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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

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.``

2 poezii, 0 proze

Ioana Veronica Epure

Născută pe 22 iunie 1988, am terminat liceul Traian din Constanța, profil mate-fizică. Studentă la Facultatea de Comunicare și Relații Publice "David Ogilvy" din cadrul SNSPA. Texte publicate în Informația Cernavodei (ziar local cernavodean), Adolescentul (suplimentul cotidianului Cuget Liber), revistele literare Agora și Tomis. Premiul "Tinere Condeie" 2004, 2005. Participare la festivalul Primăvara poeților, 2006. Membră a cenaclurilor literare Săgetătorul și Atlantis. Membră agonia.ro din iulie 2004. "I take a bottle of wine and I go drink it among the flowers. We are allways three ... counting my shadow and my friend, the shimmering moon. Happily, the moon knows nothing of drinking, and my shadow is never thirsty. When I sing, the moon listens to me in silence. When I dance, my shadow dances too. After all festivities the guests must depart. This sadness I do not know. When I go home, the moon goes with me and my shadow follows me." (Vangelis, "The Little Fete")

31 poezii, 0 proze

Susan Howe

Susan Howe was born in 1937 in Boston, Massachusetts. She is the author of several books of poems and two volumes of criticism. Her most recent poetry collections are The Midnight (New Directions, 2003), The Europe of Trusts (2002), Pierce-Arrow (1999), Frame Structures: Early Poems 1974-1979 (1996), The Nonconformist\'s Memorial (1993), The Europe of Trusts: Selected Poems (1990), and Singularities (1990). Her books of criticism are The Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History (1993), which was named an \"International Book of the Year\" by the Times Literary Supplement, and My Emily Dickinson (1985). Her work also has appeared in Anthology of American Poetry, edited by Cary Nelson (Oxford University Press, 1999); Moving Borders: Three Decades of Innovative Writing by Women, edited by Mary Margaret Sloan (1998); and Poems for the Millennium, Volume 2, edited by Pierre Joris and Jerome Rotherberg (1998). She has received two American Book Awards from the...

3 poezii, 0 proze

Millosh Gjergj Nikolla

Millosh Gjergj Nikolla (October 13, 1911 - August 26, 1938) was an Albanian poet born in Shkodër, Albania. Migjeni, pen name of Millosh Gjergj Nikolla, was born in Shkodra. In a letter of 12 January 1936 written to translator Skënder Luarasi (1900-1982) in Tirana, Migjeni announced, "I am about to send my songs to press. Since, while you were here, you promised that you would take charge of speaking to some publisher, ‘Gutemberg’ for instance, I would now like to remind you of this promise, informing you that I am ready." Two days later, Migjeni received the transfer he had earlier requested to the mountain village of Puka and on 18 April 1936 began his activities as the headmaster of the run-down school there. The clear mountain air did him some good, but the poverty and misery of the mountain tribes in and around Puka were even more overwhelming than that which he had experienced among the inhabitants of the coastal plain. Many of the children came to school barefoot and hungry, and...

2 poezii, 0 proze

Ioan 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

Serban Stanescu

I've been born on June 11, 1959 in Bucharest. I graduated in 1978 chemistry high school from Bucharest, called Costin D. Nenitescu. In 1988 I graduated the Techincal University of Bucharest, Metallurgy - Forging & Heat Treatments. In 1995 I've reconsidered my career plans and headed to IT&C. In 1997 I graduated my first master in Computers- Databases. In 2007, I finished the second master in Computers & IT. Otherwise? I like writing. I'm doing that since I was 10, and I just couldn't get rid of this "habit". I haven't published anything until august 2006, and I decided to start on the Internet. As for the others, I'm a common person, with my "lows" and "hights", like anyone else... I've published my first book, in Romanian, "Inner Rhythms" in april 2007. I'm also writing and publishing on several sites and blogs. Published books: "Ritmuri Interioare", 2008, ISBN 978-973-87654-6-7; "Autodezvoltare, Ocultism, Extrasenzorial", 2009 ISBN 978-973-0-07327-0; "Casa și Familia", 2009, ISBN...

43 poezii, 0 proze

René Depestre

René Depestre (born 29 August 1926) is a Haitian poet and communist. He lived in Cuba as an exile from the Duvalier regime for many years and was a founder of the Casa de las Americas publishing house. He is best known for his poetry. The city of Jacmel, his birthplace, is often evoked in his poetry and his novels, in particular Hadriana In All My Dreams (1988). He did his primary studies with the Breton Brothers of Christian Instruction. His father died in 1936 and Rene Depestre left his mother, his two brothers and his two sisters to go live with his maternal grandmother. From 1940 to 1944, he completed his secondary studies at the Pétion college in Port-au-Prince. Étincelles (Sparks), his first collection of poetry, appeared in 1945, prefaced by Edris Saint-Amand. He was only nineteen years old when the work was published. The poems were influenced by the marvelous realism of Alejo Carpentier, who planned a conference on this subject in Haiti in 1942. Depestre created a weekly...

31 poezii, 0 proze

Ishikawa Takuboku

Takuboku Ishikawa - un poet din era Meiji. Și-a început cariera ca romantic și a scris spre sfârșitul vieții poezii ce aveau ca subiect probleme sociale. Takuboku a fost considerat unul dintre cei mai buni poeți de tanka ai vremii și unul dintre importanții precursori ai poeziei moderne. Takuboku Ishikawa (石川 啄木 ,Ishikawa Takuboku?, February 20, 1886–April 13, 1912) was a Japanese poet. He died of tuberculosis on April 13, 1912. Well known as both a tanka and \'modern-style\' (shintaishi or simply shi) or \'free-style\' (jiyūshi) poet, he began as a member of the Myōjō group of naturalist poets but later joined the \"socialistic\" group of Japanese poets and renounced naturalism. Major Works His major works were two volumes of tanka poems plus his diaries: * Ichiakuno suna (A Handful of Sand) 1910 * Kanashiki gangu (Sad Toys) published posthumously in 1912 Timeline Ishikawa Takuboku, ca. 1900 * 1886 - Born at Joko Temple, Hinoto-mura...

6 poezii, 0 proze

my skin

de B. Andreea

Take a look at my body Look at my hands There\'s so much here that I don\'t understand Your face-saving promises Whispered like prayers I don\'t need them \'Cause I\'ve been treated so wrong, I\'ve...

Dark

de Andrei Dumitrescu

Under my skin crawling the demons struggle within my blood,my veins,my flesh my hate and my sorrow, dieing in my death in the name of Him, the unholy one the eternal dark one, in the graviest days of...

Profetul-fără-Binoclu

de Ioana Veronica Epure

„I’ve got you under my skin...” cânta Omul-cu-Binoclu de pe stânca lui Orașul îi căzuse neștiutor la picioare iar el îl urmărea fascinat cum se zbate cu un ac înfipt în spate niciodată mort dar...

aceste clipe

de valentin ursache

say those words that lifts me up hear my whispers endlessly touch my skin.. caress me live!...these moments \'cause you are my breath see the lines upon my face say you\'ll be there in the night hear...

Still...

de Crisan Iulian

Blood and mists Just silence… Eternal struggle between graves of time My lips are frozen My eyes, made of crystal I am made of nothing… I hear, but not your voice I see, but not your essence I feel,...

Pointless ear of mine

de Dafina David

Pretty far- Soul, come with your spheres for my dawn, i’m so dizzy-Ruben-girlish, master of the univers - hurricane with no fear but breaking neck when breathing too fast! - Mercy- dining mercy,...

Soul-Written Miniatures in Words…

de Andrei Lucian Dragoi

Sands… Her breasts put together are the most wonderful castels ever built in the primordial sands… Unfortunately they have no windows… I could have seen The First Man-Rise!… Pictures The spirits of...

To me he seems like a god

de Cristina

To me he seems like a god the man who sits facing you and hears you near as you speak softly and laugh in a sweet echo that jolts the heart in my ribs.For now as i look at you my voice is empty and...

Oana’s not here

de Florin DeRoxas

Oana’s not here, Oana is gone, Oana’s my sweetheart for long time, and I don’t know what should be done, because she still hurts my heart; she’s one of us who never gives back no matter what we do....

New York in autumn

de Andrei Dumitrescu

I want to visit New York in autumn and breathe the falling leaves through the rush and the spin, As I do want to hug all those sweet, unknown creatures of you from the low top to the high bottom...