"last breath." – 20265 rezultate
0.01 secundeMeilisearchPaul Alexandru
3 poezii, 0 proze
Geo Mihali
Last but not least i'm off the leash reach for your masterpiece Feel the release from the phantom bangs you Snatched off i'll put you in a frame and hang you Comin' at you're village from a different angle
2 poezii, 0 proze
chirea alexandra
coca cola,cioran,fum de tigara,sylvia plath,veverite triste,milka,ceainarie,facultate,limba franceza,nietzsche,ingeri,condillac,micsunele,negru,camus,abba,last year at marienbad,guns&roses,our generation,francois villon,ness cu cola,1984,seasons in the sun,turta dulce,ceai negru,ferma animalelor,sinestezie,marchizul de sade,te iubeam,pink floyd,cimitire,ian mcewan,miros de moarte,cruci,rascruci,blesteme,enjoy the silence,concert depeche,scooby doo,descartes,nichita stanescu,blaga,te uita cum ninge decembre,piata romana nr 9,accident,fericirea i un lucru marunt,o aripa care vibreaza,un pitic ce danseaza..
1 poezii, 0 proze
Raymond Carver
The American short story writer and poet Raymond Carver was born in Clatskanie, Oregon, on May 25, 1938, and lived in Port Angeles, Washington during his last ten, sober years until his death from cancer on August 2, 1988. He was a Guggenheim Fellow in 1979 and was twice awarded grants from the National Endowment for the Arts. In 1983 Carver received the prestigious Mildred and Harold Strauss Living Award which gave him $35,000 per year tax free and required that he give up any employment other than writing, and in 1985 Poetry magazine\'s Levinson Prize. In 1988 he was elected to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters and was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Hartford. He received a Brandeis Citation for fiction in 1988. His work has been translated into more than twenty languages. At least that\'s the basic biography. Of course there\'s no room in it for the nature of the hardship he and his family went through during most of those fifty...
3 poezii, 0 proze
AAmara
"Poet divin, lumina fara moarte m-ajute-n grai iubirea-n veci fierbinte cu care pururi ti-am citit din carte" Infernul - Dante Alighieri This is me for forever One of the lost ones The one without a name Without an honest heart as compass This is me for forever One without a name These lines the last endeavor To find the missing lifeline Nemo - Nightwish Last dance, first kiss Your touch my bliss Beauty always comes with dark thoughts I wish... Wish I had an Angel - Nightwish
4 poezii, 0 proze
RVRenée Vivien
Renée Vivien, born Pauline Mary Tarn (11 June 1877 - 18 November 1909) was a British poet who wrote in the French language.[1][2] She took to heart all the mannerisms of Symbolism, as one of the last poets to claim allegiance to the school. Her compositions include sonnets, hendecasyllabic verse, and prose poetry. Vivien was born in London, England to a wealthy British father and an American mother from Jackson, Michigan. She grew up in Paris and London. Upon inheriting her father's fortune at 21, she emigrated permanently to France. In Paris, Vivien's dress and lifestyle were as notorious among the bohemian set as was her verse. She lived lavishly, as an open lesbian, and carried on a well-known affair with American heiress and writer Natalie Clifford Barney. She also harbored a lifelong obsession with her closest childhood friend and neighbor, Violet Shillito – a relationship that remained unconsummated. In 1900 Vivien abandoned this chaste love, when the great romance with Natalie...
17 poezii, 0 proze
John Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
0 poezii, 0 proze
EBElizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (6 March 1806 – 29 June 1861) was one of the most prominent poets of the Victorian era. Her poetry was widely popular in both England and the United States during her lifetime.[1] A collection of her last poems was published by her husband, Robert Browning, shortly after her death. Works/Collections 1820: The Battle of Marathon: A Poem. Privately printed 1826: A Essay On Mind, with Other Poems. London: James Duncan 1833: Prometheus Bound, Translated from the Greek of Aeschylus,and Miscellaneous Poems. London: A.J. Valpy 1838: The Seraphim, and Other Poems. London: Saunders and Otley 1844: Poems (UK) / A Drama of Exile, and other Poems (US). London: Edward Moxon. New York: Henry G. Langley 1850: Poems ("New Edition", 2 vols.) Revision of 1844 edition adding Sonnets from the Portuguese and others. London: Chapman & Hall 1851: Casa Guidi Windows. London: Chapman & Hall 1853: Poems (3d ed.). London: Chapman & Hall 1854: Two Poems: "A Plea for the Ragged Schools...
1 poezii, 0 proze
NTNovica Tadiæ
Novica Tadiæ was born in 1949 and has lived most of his life in Belgrade. The author of fourteen previous collections of poetry, including The Object of Ridicule, Monster, and The Unknown, he is the most-respected living Serbian poet. Tadiæ has won almost every major Serbian literary award, including the prestigious Laureat Nagrade. In the last two decades, he has served as editor of several Serbian literary magazines. Tadiæ's books of poems have been translated into more than two dozen languages.
1 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
Story
de Andrei Dumitrescu
Like the loneliest dagger seeking its next victim ready to stab her, Its next prade in the wilderness of chaos, Bringing fire down from the heavens -in chains wild Prometheus- so I am,so I stay in...
Another On The Same
de John Milton
Here lieth one who did most truly prove, That he could never die while he could move, So hung his destiny never to rot While he might still jogg on, and keep his trot, Made of sphear-metal, never to...
Mireasa tristă
de Diana M. Ploscar
Parcurg ideea de Suniata, smulg mai conștientă ca niciodată perfuzia rațiunii; atât de rece, atât de violent. Curăț o stradă a negării. Se păstreaza rece în palma mea fierbinte, plină de speranță;...
Der Meister ( II )
de Alexandru Red
Die Wahrheit ist ein Chor aus Wind Kein Engel kommt um euch zu rächen Wiese Tage eure letzten sind Wie Stäbchen wird es euch zerbrechen. The truth is the breath of wind No angel comes to avenge you...
To smile with the smile of a god
de Andrei Dumitrescu
For to see with the eye of the mind is to embrace the seeing with the flame of blue darkness, For to breathe with the breath on the angel is to love with the unkind kindness of invisible creatures...
Crochiu
de George Lână
Ca un burghez aștept să îmi treci mâna prin păr însă tu răvășită și în criză de timp mă țintuiești cu privirea și îmi strângi criminal respirația-n ușă în vreme ce pe lângă castani vântul trece în...
things that happen
de olga cojocaru
Îl ascult și sunt smerită sunt prea personală pot să scriu propoziții lungi care să o închidă pe Tiki a mea și ea să rămână așa să surâdă o portocală albastră două codițe și un năsuc ros întors pe...
I Lost My Nights
de bayar
I lost my nights with trembling thoughts Around the spirit of growing hope I lost my nights with senseless love All for nothing: nothing from all… I urged myself to bluer skies Like in a fantasy...
A lung-full
de Dragos
The drops of rain sparkle ruby and turn to blood falling down my chest, on my face, onto dirt. The same soul that once hated the eerie storm now drops down in the puddle of blood in ecstasy blending...
Memory
de Iurcencu Teodora Ioana
Brightly the sun of summer shone Green fields and waving woods upon, And soft winds wandered by; Above, a sky of purest blue, Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue, Allured the gazer\'s eye. But...