"When I died" – 1024 rezultate
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IMIñigo López de Mendoza
Don Íñigo López de Mendoza y de la Vega, Marquis of Santillana (August 19, 1398 - March 25, 1458) was a Castilian poet who held an important position in society and Literature during the reign of John II of Castile. He was born at Carrión de los Condes in Old Castile to a noble family which figured prominently in the arts. His grandfather, Pedro González de Mendoza, and his father, Diego Hurtado de Mendoza Admiral of Castile, were both poets with close ties to the great literary figures of the time: Chancellor Lopez de Ayala, Fernán Pérez de Guzmán and Gomez Manrique. His mother, Doña Leonor de la Vega, was a wealthy heiress belonging to the House of de la Vega. Lopez de Mendoza's father died when he was five years old, which brought his family into financial difficulties. Part of his childhood was spent living in his grandmother's household, and in the home of his uncle, the future Archbishop of Toledo. As a youth, he spent time in the court king Alfonso V of Aragón, where...
1 poezii, 0 proze
andra picincu
I started to develop my skills relevant to the business field and PR when I worked as a virtual assistant and, later, as a journalist. My studies on public relations in marketing, advertising techniques and guidelines on various issues have been promoted by well known publications worldwide, including USA Today and HealthCare.com. I have degrees in human resources management, business communication, PR, Banking and Finances, business administration and certificates in trauma and stress management. I speak four languages and I’m motivated to do my best. I have the drive and motivation to do my very best every day. I dedicated my time to improve my skills and knowledge, achieving several degrees in business and communication, although I am very young. I have the best qualifications, being responsible, friendly, having good communication and interpersonal skills. I can handle people with high temper satisfactorily and I can work under pressure.
2 poezii, 0 proze
Radu Contes
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
SMStephenie Meyer
Stephenie Meyer\'s life changed dramatically on June 2, 2003. The stay-at-home mother of three young sons woke up from a dream featuring seemingly real characters that she could not get out of her head. \"Though I had a million things to do, I stayed in bed, thinking about the dream. Unwillingly, I eventually got up and did the immediate necessities, and then put everything that I possibly could on the back burner and sat down at the computer to write—something I hadn\'t done in so long that I wondered why I was bothering.\" Meyer invented the plot during the day through swim lessons and potty training, and wrote it out late at night when the house was quiet. Three months later she finished her first novel, Twilight. With encouragement from her older sister (the only other person who knew she had written a book), Meyer submitted her manuscript to various literary agencies. Twilight was picked out of a slush pile at Writer\'s House and eventually made its way to the publishing...
12 poezii, 0 proze
Don McLean
Famed for -- and ultimately defined by -- his perennial \"American Pie,\" singer/songwriter Don McLean was born October 2, 1945, in New Rochelle, NY. After getting his start in the folk clubs of New York City during the mid-\'60s, McLean struggled for a number of years, building a small following through his work with Pete Seeger on the Clearwater, a sloop that sailed up and down the eastern seaboard to promote environmental causes. Still, McLean was primarily singing in elementary schools and the like when in 1970 he wrote a musical tribute to painter Vincent Van Gogh; the project was roundly rejected by a number of labels, although MediaArts did offer him a contract to record a number of his other songs under the title Tapestry. The album fared poorly, but Perry Como earned a hit with a cover of the track \"And I Love Her So,\" prompting United Artists to pick up McLean\'s contract. He returned in 1971 with American Pie; the title track, an elegiac eight-and-a-half-minute folk-pop...
1 poezii, 0 proze
ITIoan Tițian
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
CDConstantin Delca
'When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm better.'
48 poezii, 0 proze
ROruxandra olteanu
I am getting closer to myself...I'll let you know when I have news ...
5 poezii, 0 proze
DADîrzu Andrei-Ovidiu
I'm Alunelu from Hunedoara, Romania, a graduating student from Informatics College, a becoming artist. My hobbies are: reading books and the imitative arts. I am a funny person and I make the people around me to laugh. When I am sad I am not showing it directly. The sadness is shown many times through the verses I write.
144 poezii, 0 proze
KIKeiko Imaoka
Beginner\'s Mind (Keiko Imaoka - Tucson, Arizona) I cannot be sure when I first became aware of haiku and tanka in my childhood in Japan. They seemed to have existed for a long time in the perimeter of my awareness, undifferentiated from proverbs, mottoes, aphorisms, and song lyrics that were phrased in similar forms. Sometime during my grade school years, \"Ogura Hyakunin-Isshu\" (\"Ogura Collection of One Hundred Tanka\", edited by Teika Fujiwara around 1235) became known to me as a New Year\'s card game, in which players compete to capture shimonoku cards (100 cards on each of which the last half of a verse is printed, spread out on the floor in front of the players) that finish the verses being read aloud. At abacus school, where we played this game at every new year\'s party, my prowess in the game improved dramatically when I was in the sixth grade, after I had memorized all the poems with my tenth-grade sister who was required to do so in her archaic grammar course in school. I...
1 poezii, 0 proze
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...
Necronomikon
de Abdul al-Hazred
THE TESTIMONY OF MAD ARAB THIS is the testimony of all that I have seen, and all that I have learned, in those years that I have possesed the Three Seals of MASSHU. I have seen One Thousand and-One...
To Silvia
de Giacomo Leopardi
Silvia, do you remember the moments, in your mortal life, when beauty still shone in your sidelong, laughing eyes, and you, light and thoughtful, went beyond girlhood’s limits? The quiet rooms and...
Selected strophes from Les Chants de Maldoror Translated by Dan Clore
de Comte de Lautreamont
Canto I: 6 You should let your fingernails grow for fifteen days. Oh! -- How sweet it is to brutally tear a youth with a hairless upper lip from his bed and, eyes wide open, pretend that you\'ll...
The Apocalyptic Subculture of a Woman\'s Man
de Ohm
Where can I begin? Where will it end? Well, either in the year 2003 or the year 2006, most likely the latter. The remaining timeline grows thinner as the world grows fatter. It doesn\'t matter,...
Waiting
de Robert Frost
Afield at dusk What things for dream there are when specter-like, Moving amond tall haycocks lightly piled, I enter alone upon the stubbled filed, From which the laborers\' voices late have died, And...
THE GRIFFIN
de Alina Mihai
I took the path of silence and of black night The sunlit world was far behind me The grass swayed gently in the moonlight And trees were tall, and starry sky And yet all these I could not see. On...
de Sorin
Love is not meant for me It took a different path, Far away from were I’m at. I am banned from that place, If I come near It disappears without a trace. Then my search continues, Hope it’s all that...
Bowery Blues
de Jack Kerouac
The story of man Makes me sick Inside, outside, I don\'t know why Something so conditional And all talk Should hurt me so. I am hurt I am scared I want to live I want to die I don\'t know Where to...
on the stairs of your house
de adriana
On the stairs of your house There’s a letter in my hand. Yours. I wrote it on the stairs of your house While waiting. Don’t you remember the day my heart went on a strike? That wet summer...