"so pure" – 20090 rezultate
0.01 secundeMeilisearch
RDRadu Dumitrescu
Everything I think is golden - crystal, fucking beautiful shit, man. I am so fucking pure.
8 poezii, 0 proze
AIaurel ifteni
Prea bogată pentru o hîrtie, prea desuet so pun pe net... Totuși: născut la Suceava, copilărit în Galați, liceu militar la Cîmpulung Moldovenesc; Școală de aviație Aurel Vlaicu, cadru activ la catedra de invatatmint a școlii de aviație pînă în 1986; Pînă în prezent liber culegător, cugetător, călător pe gînd, pe nor, pe restul cu dor... minastire fără picior pană este fostul zbor...
2 poezii, 0 proze
LPloredana preda
Su di me avrei molte cose da dire, ma non so quanto possano interessare gli altri. Cosicché, ho pensato di descrivermi in poche parole: Io sono… quel che sono… Viaggiatrice folle In mezzo alle parole, Cuore buono. Nutrendomi d’amore, Alla vita dando un senso, Riscopro l’Universo In tutto il suo splendore.
16 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
MMMircea Micu
Micu Mircea s-a născut la 31 ianuarie 1937 în comuna Vârșand, județul Arad, pe granița cu Ungaria. Tatăl a fost ofițer de Jandarmi, mort în timpul războiului, mama casnică. A copilărit și și-a făcut școala primară în satul vecin, Grăniceri, la un unchi al său după mamă. Având în familie doi intelectuali, crescuți în spiritul Școlii Ardelene, beneficiază de lecturi literare so-lide. În 1950, se mută la Arad, urmează un an cursu-rile Liceului „Moise Nicoară“, după care se înscrie la Școala Pedagogică de Învățători. După absolvire, frecventează cursurile Facultății de Filologie, vreme de trei ani. Se angajează în învățământ, la Șiria (satul lui Slavici), predând ca profesor su-plinitor. Își dă definitivatul în Surdo-pedagogie. Ocupă, rând pe rând, postul de redactor la Stația locală de radio, redactor la ziarul local din Arad. În 1965, vine în București și este angajat la Uniunea Scriitorilor, unde a ocupat diverse funcții administrative, până în 1989. A lucrat și la Asociația...
9 poezii, 0 proze
ULUrsula K LeGuin
Ursula Kroeber was born in 1929 in Berkeley, California, where she grew up. Her parents were the anthropologist Alfred Kroeber and the writer Theodora Kroeber, author of Ishi. She went to Radcliffe College and did graduate work at Columbia University. She married Charles A. Le Guin, a historian, in Paris in 1953; they have lived in Portland, Oregon, since 1958, and have three children and three grandchildren. Ursula K. Le Guin writes both poetry and prose, and in various modes including realistic fiction, science fiction, fantasy, young children\'s books, books for young adults, screenplays, essays, verbal texts for musicians, and voicetexts for performance or recording. She has published six books of poetry, twenty novels, over a hundred short stories (collected in eleven volumes), four collections of essays, eleven books for children, and four volumes of translation. Few American writers have done work of such high quality in so many forms. Several of Le Guin’s major titles have...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Grigoraș V.Vasilică
Born in his hometown Constanta, Tomis Boulevard 310 from a peasant family , his father being jokeu stud horse Mangalia , turn from a family of horse breeders village Lucina PROTV broadcast television . His mother was a very religious woman educating his son before educators and teachers , knowing the alphabet and read it before he go to kindergarten . Reading the newspapers every day to the elders at the gate. Starting kindergarten classes, already his mother teaches arithmetic and math , so his son years in a row only take first prize every year in courses taken at the secondary school in the town of Ovidiu, where his parents moved . His mother dies at her birthday on 5 november 1978, after his father married with a vicious woman practicing prostitution to place Herringbone of Wheat. In 1984 begins Industrial High School Marina of Constanta, under the tutelage of the Ministry of National Defense, where parallel attends the Higher Institute of Information , specialty Psychology -...
0 poezii, 0 proze
Christina Rossetti
Christina Georgina Rossetti, one of the most important women poets writing in nineteenth-century England, was born in London December 5, 1830, to Gabriele and Frances (Polidori) Rossetti. Although her fundamentally religious temperament was closer to her mother\'s, this youngest member of a remarkable family of poets, artists, and critics inherited many of her artistic tendencies from her father. Judging from somewhat idealized sketches made by her brother Dante, Christina as a teenager seems to have been quite attractive if not beautiful. In 1848 she became engaged to James Collinson, one of the minor Pre-Raphaelite brethren, but the engagement ended after he reverted to Roman Catholicism. When Professor Rossetti\'s failing health and eyesight forced him into retirement in 1853, Christina and her mother attempted to support the family by starting a day school, but had to give it up after a year or so. Thereafter she led a very retiring life, interrupted by a recurring illness which...
8 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
CKConstantinos Kavafis
Constantine P. Cavafy, also known as Konstantin or Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, or Kavaphes (Greek Êùíóôáíôßíïò Ð. ÊáâÜöçò) (April 29, 1863–April 29,1933) was a renowned modern Greek poet who lived in Alexandria and worked as a journalist and civil servant. In his poetry he examines critically some aspects of Christianity, patriotism, and homosexuality, though he was not always comfortable with his role as a nonconformist. He published 154 poems; dozens more remained incomplete or in sketch form. His most important poetry was written after his fortieth birthday. Cavafy was born in 1863 in Alexandria, Egypt, to Greek parents, and was baptized into the Greek Orthodox Church. His father was a prosperous importer-exporter who had lived in England in earlier years and acquired British nationality. After his father died in 1870, Cavafy and his family settled, for a while in Liverpool in England. In 1876, his family faced financial problems following the crash, so, by 1877, he had to move...
4 poezii, 0 proze
so pure
de catalina marincas
uite acolo pe peretele stâng al sufletului o cergă ardelenească ghemuiți langă ea desenăm cai primordiali, ne aruncăm marea pe umeri și scriem.. eu țin in palme iriși ce oglindă perfectă, tu lași...
A nearby romance
de Petrea Laurentiu Cristian
I never thought I\'ll ever find A love so pure, I was so blind How could I ever think of that? Really don\'t know, but I looked back And there you were, waiting for me There\'s nowhere else I\'d...
What You Offered Me...
de Tia
Snow...white and pure Slowly falling toward the frozen earth... I stare out the window carefully watching its every move... Lost in my thoughts...of me...of you, The distance and time between us. The...
Why
de Emma
Why is it life so dear to us? Why is it pure,magic and thus Sparkling,hidden under mists of grass, On the ground of sky Lightened by the faithful moonly rye. However absurd this definition seems This...
Black Eleven
de Andrei Dumitrescu
Smile ! Your smile is pure, Is full of light is empty of the tiredness that consumes us all in hipocrizy: Burning flag of the lost patiance: Here we are pretending to smile Pretending to cry...
Sonet 154
de Cristian Vasiliu
Her ankle softly torment on the chest Released my wings so sharpen and so thin Into the breath of spring from east to west And the enchanted world that lies within. Two flowers blink and misty rivers...
My love is still here
de Marlena Culi
Red rose, red rose As pure as love it self, White roses as the light of Your sweet kisses. I felt once the window Of you heart open Oh, I remember that day, Like it was yesterday? No more tears, and...
maximalizarea plăcerii
de Lesenciuc Teodor
\"A heart is a fragile thing. That\'s why we protect them so vigorously, give them away so rarely and why it means so much when we do. Some hearts are more fragile than others... purer somehow, like...
Somewhere in the DARK ... It was a holy man
de Luca Tiberiu
Somewhere in the DARK ... It was a holy man For bein' dead so many lost live Wonder how long before the soul dies, Today I heard you cry for the firs time, It was the worst time The way I heard you...
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...