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Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, and popularly known as Mowlānā but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi (30 September 1207 – 17 December 1273), was a 13th-century Persian (Tajik) Muslim poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Rūmī is a descriptive name meaning "the Roman" since he lived most of his life in an area called Rūm because it was once ruled by the Eastern Roman Empire. It is likely that he was born in the village of Wakhsh, a small town located at the river Wakhsh in what is now Tajikistan. Wakhsh belonged to the larger province of Balkh, and in the year Rumi was born, his father was an appointed scholar there. Both these cities were at the time included in the greater Persian cultural sphere of Khorasan, the easternmost province of Persia, and were part of the Khwarezmian Empire. Image of the Rumi on an old book in the Mevlâna museum; Konya,...

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Cristina Toropu

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.

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daniel d marin

some literary prizes, included in some anthologies, cooperation with some cultural magazines, editor for the cultural magazine "Oglinda literară", where I initiated and brought into effect the column "niște tineri.ro" where I promoted the young literature including by first interviews of a few milenaristic young poets (2003-2007), chief editor of the Impact youth magazine (2000-2001)... that is in the past... and a few in the present: http://danieldmarin.wordpress.com/ http://danieldemarin.blogspot.com/

13 poezii, 0 proze

Iñigo 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...

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Veronica Văleanu

All expression of energy in this universe must end where it began. Walter Russell I am a survivivore. And for a survivivore, its predatory condition is strictly related to consuming its own survivals. Born - every time I was signalled to. Married, two children. Printer.s Devil Review, vol.2, no.2 Chicago Poetry Review, Poetry Cram 14, Journal of Modern Poetry Randomly Accessed Poetics World Poetry Reading Series, Featured Poets Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts, vol.XXII, issue 3 ...as I said: Nobody can live real poetry. You have to survive it.

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Stefan Ciobanasu

Which way is the right path, as I stand upon This chaotic crossroads of hate... How many ways are there to roam On this dark and damned road of fate... "There are many ways, my son, to find where the souls of demons remain...But it takes only one second of despair and of doubt Until at last, your soul, they will gain... Inherit these lands, these things, these dreams That are yours, forever, to adore... For there is no life, in the depths of chaos, my son, For you to explore... C. Vincent Metzen - 'The Initiate' All I ever craved were the two dreams I shared with you. One I now have, will the other one ever dream remain. For yours I truly wish to be. Nightwish - Ever Dream

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Keiko 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...

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Fred Moramarco

Dr. Moramarco is a Professor of English at San Diego State and the Editor of Poetry International, an annual journal of new poetry published there. He is the co-author of Containing Multitudes: Poetry in the United States Since 1950 and Modern American Poetry, and co-editor of Men of Our Time: Male Poetry in Contemporary America. ,,I\'ve devoted a lot of my life to poetry. Reading it, writing it, writing about it. In her wonderful novel, \"Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant,\" Anne Tyler writes, \"There ought to be a whole separate language for truth.\" I think there is such a language--the language of poetry. Poems create the miracle of connecting our inner lives. We live in a world where the language of advertising, commerce, and politics are so filled with falseness, deception, and manipulation, that we have an absolute longing to hear words spoken from the heart, with clarity, precision, and authenticity.``

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An everlasting love

de Filip Ruxandra

It was the middle of the night when he first saw me. I was no bigger then 5 centimeters and I was looking into the mirror, dressed in my new little white dress. I didn’t realize till late that I was...

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Am venit, am văzut, m-am ușchit!

de Liliana Pintocara

Fusese o zi plină. Vizitasem Vaticanul iar aparatul meu foto era plin de poze. Singura soluție economică era să găsesc un internet cafe și să le descarc pe stickul care-l aveam în geantă. Băiatul...

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TOWER OF SONG

de Leonard Cohen

My friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I use to play And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on I’m just paying my rent every day In the tower of song. I said to Hank...

The Final Cut

de Pink Floyd

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes I can barely define the shape of this moment in time And far from flying high in clear blue skies I\'m spiralling down to the hole in the ground where...

A happy/unhappy event

de Adrian Arvunescu

It was a beautiful day when I met Traian on a cargo ship to Afghanistan. We both were illegal immigrants seeking a better life. I forgot to mention that I m from Papua, where big people eat little...

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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...

The Witch of Coos

de Robert Frost

I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountains, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking. MOTHER Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up...

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...

The Code

de Robert Frost

There were three in the meadow by the brook Gathering up windrows, piling cocks of hay, With an eye always lifted toward the west Where an irregular sun-bordered cloud Darkly advanced with a...