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"It was me, the blue-painted cloud"4374 rezultate

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RC

Radu Contes

AutorAtelier

The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.

2 poezii, 0 proze

Mircea BraslasuMB

Mircea Braslasu

AutorAtelier

Dedicate these lyrics memory my son Valentin Catalin Brăslașu, the writing about his life from birth (28-10-1981) until death (08-07-2000), but after his death. This describes both his life and my life, but more strongly to the shock of finding veștii that my son died in a tragic car accident at age 18 years 8 months and 10 days shock from which I left with sequelae , traumatized throughout their lives. I am Brăslașu Mircea, born com.Sângeru, jud.Prahova. In 1979, on December 31, I married, from this marriage two children resulted: Valentin-Catalin-Adrian and Gabriel. In 1993 after 14 years of marriage I broke the exclusive fault of the former spouses. In the divorce we have been entrusted to educate and increase a child so-Catalin Valentin (it was 12 years) was heard by the court expressing its desire to remain with me, the fact that the account, and Gabriel (he had 6 years) was given his mother. After he finished vocational school (1999), Catalin's exam at the evening high school,...

19 poezii, 0 proze

Louis McKeeLM

Louis McKee

AutorClasic

Louis McKee (born July 31, 1951, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) has been a fixture of the Philadelphia poetry scene since the early 70s. He is the author of Schuylkill County (Wampeter, 1982), The True Speed of Things (Slash & Burn, 1984) and eleven other collections. More recently, he has published River Architecture: Poems from Here & There 1973-1993 (Cynic, 1999), Loose Change (Marsh River Editions, 2001) and a volume in the Pudding House Greatest Hits series. Gerald Stern has called his work “heart-breaking” and “necessary,” while William Stafford has written, “Louis McKee makes me think of how much fun it was to put your hand out a car window and make the air carry you into quick adventures and curlicues. He is so adept at turning all kinds of sudden glimpses into good patterns.” Naomi Shihab Nye says, “Louis McKee is one of the truest hearts and voices in poetry we will ever be lucky to know.” Near Occasions of Sin, a collection issued in 2006 by Cynic Press, has been praised by...

2 poezii, 0 proze

HG

Hancu George

AutorAtelier

Inspiration Inspiration Sit down she said, pen me a few lines, tell me of life, love, hopes and dreams. write to me of much happier times When love ruled your heart, and life it seemed Was full of possibilities, plans and endless schemes. I took up the challenge, and began to write, Of life, of love and hopes and dreams, Words flowed like rivers, as I wrote them down, Thinking all the while of the lady I'd found To inspire my thoughts, and urge me on, To make something beautiful, maybe a song. Into the small hours, I toiled away, writing down lines, throwing them away. 'Twas then that I realised, that the happier times That she spoke of and wanted, were not of that time. For the happier times were not from long ago, But were here with me now, and now I know, That 'twas the love for this lady, that made my words flow, And to write something beautiful, for her, her alone. I wrote of life, and my living with her, Of love, her in my arms forever more, Of hopes, a future for us so bright,...

2 poezii, 0 proze

Daniela Maria BeneaDB

Daniela Maria Benea

AutorAtelier

I was born in Cluj-Napoca on the 11th of September 1970. I have learned to read, write and love over there. In 1991 I moved to Brisbane, Australia. I hold a bachelor degree in International Business. Later on I followed a couple of courses in Psychology. I mainly write in Romanian, that's what makes me feel closer to the places I left. However I do write in English, sometimes it feels like the words find me better this way, or maybe it's the other way around. I read many English books, biographies, poetry, etc.

19 poezii, 0 proze

CT

Cristina Toropu

AutorAtelier

I was born in Tg-Jiu ( the beatiful place where people might admire Brancusi's monumental masterpieces), Romania. After getting my Master's degree in Mathematics from University of Bucharest and working for four years as Junior Assistant Professor in Romanian-American University, Bucharest, I decided to leave my country in order to study some more Mathematics. After spending two years in Montreal, Canada, I moved to USA where I am currently doing my Ph.D in Mathematics. Writing poems helps me convey ideas and feelings to other people. It happend that two short poems of mine, translated in French, got published in " North Texas World Literatures Review" Vol. 2, ETC... , run by the Foreign Language Department of UNT, Denton, TX, USA.

11 poezii, 0 proze

Ioan TițianIT

Ioan Tițian

AutorAtelier

Prenume: Ioan Nume: Tițian email: maa_eendo@yahoo.com Photo: by Me ... 1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? 2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? 4 Or Love in a golden bowl? (by W. Blake) ... I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away. The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start. They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter's choice Is love's bed always snow She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place And can...

6 poezii, 0 proze

John James OsborneJO

John James Osborne

AutorClasic

English dramatist. He began his theatrical career as an actor and playwright in provincial English repertory theaters. Osborne\'s plays usually focus on an individual character and the sheer force of his language rather than on action. His first commercial success was Look Back in Anger (1956), concerning a restless and vociferous young man of the working class who is at war with himself and society; it became the seminal work for the so-called angry young men. His other plays depict the frustration of living without hope in a world filled with false values. Among Osborne\'s other plays are The Entertainer (1957), Luther (1961), Inadmissible Evidence (1964), A Patriot for Me (1965), The End of Me Old Cigar (1974), Watch It Come Down (1976), and Déjà vu (1991). He also wrote the screenplay for Tom Jones (1963).

1 poezii, 0 proze

dan mariusDM

dan marius

AutorAtelier

"Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears Im well known in story, famous in song The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong My crime is discomfort, my mind ill at ease Old crow on my shoulder, my favorite disease My siblings, my rivals might tend to my wake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake And all the grand expectations of an epic of wealth Leave me long to crawl back to the womb Well, I've tasted your grace, placed it back on the shelf Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Well, I came from this city, a victim of peace But I've grown far too filthy to attend to the feast So I'll take to the hills to live savage and free I don't need nobody, nobody needs me I don't need nobody, nobody needs me" http://www.obliothedagger.blogspot.com/

289 poezii, 0 proze

CH

Carmen Harra

AutorClasic

Carmen Harra in her own words: Even as a little girl growing up in Romania, I knew I was different. After a near-death experience at age five, I was able to see things others couldn\'t. Everyone who has had a near-death experience describes the sensation of \"going toward the light.” In this parallel world, extraordinary light energy surrounds you and you see an inexpressibly beautiful light. There is no negativity and no anger or sadness, only love. It is a perfect, glowing world, filled with dazzling insights and pure truth, the way our Creator meant it to be. I\'ve never forgotten the lessons this experience taught me. Why, I wondered, wasn\'t life on Earth like this? This parallel world, which I call the Invisible World, is just as real as the physical world here on Earth. It is even more real because the people there are souls unencumbered by ego, emotions, and attachment to material things. Without these negative distractions, souls exist harmoniously in love, joy, and peace. On...

8 poezii, 0 proze

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

de Samuel Taylor Coleridge

PART THE FIRST. It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. “By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?” “The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am...

PoezieClasic

BLUE

de cristina boruga

One day a butterfly set on my nose and sais: I want you to speak about blue as if this is the last time a minute has 60 seconds. Well, I know blue is the colour of my coffee cup in the morning. I...

PoezieAtelier

The Afternoon of a Faun

de Stéphane Mallarmé

These nymphs I would perpetuate. So clear Their light carnation, that it floats in the air Heavy with tufted slumbers. Was it a dream I loved? My doubt, a heap of ancient night, is finishing In many...

PoezieClasic

Famous blue raincoat

de Leonard Cohen

It\'s four in the morning, the end of December I\'m writing you now just to see if you\'re better New York is cold, but I like where I\'m living There\'s music on Clinton Street all through the...

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The change of the heart

de Gondos Ana

I started long ago a journey And ended up with an attorney, To plead my innocence to others, Ans it was fair enough to witness The Phoenix and the change of the heart And a writer who played well his...

PoezieAtelier

The Axe Helve

de Robert Frost

I\'ve known ere now an interfering branch Of alder catch my lifted axe behind me. But that was in the woods, to hold my hand From striking at another alder\'s roots, And that was, as I say, an alder...

PoezieClasic

I was looking for love...

de blue

( after Costache Ioanid) I was looking for love, like for a lost town, Like for a singing heaven in a world of pain, I rushed into life and all that liked my eye, And I only suffered; but heaven was...

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Take this longing

de Leonard Cohen

Many men have loved the bells you fastened to the rein, and everyone who wanted you they found what they will always want again. Your beauty lost to you yourself just as it was lost to them. Oh take...

PoezieClasic

Cyber Lesson Learned

de Ohm

A letter is being written for you. 10/26 Written in draft form, why? Because I know not what else to do? It is as cold here, in draft, as it is in my heart. My body chilled, by your absence. My mind...

Atelier

20 gold buttons

de Ohm

I dreamed of meeting you in a long black dress with 20 gold buttons a big smile on my face and a big blue moon shining in the sky just the look in your eyes melted five buttons off the bottom of that...

PoezieAtelier