Ετικέτες
- Άρθρα
- Βιβλιοπαρουσίαση
- Γλυπτική
- Διαθεματικότητα
- Εκδηλώσεις
- Επιστήμη
- Ζωγραφική
- Θέατρο
- Ιστορία
- Κινηματογράφος
- Κοινωνία
- Λαογραφία
- Λογοτεχνία
- Μνήμες
- Μουσική
- Μουσική.
- Μυθολογία
- Παιδεία
- Περιβάλλον
- Σαν Σήμερα
- Σύγχρονη Λογοτεχνία
- Ταξιδιωτικές Εντυπώσεις
- Τέχνη
- Τεχνολογία
- Τηλεόραση
- Υγεία
- Φιλοσοφία
- Φωτογραφία
- Ψυχολογία
Δευτέρα 31 Μαΐου 2021
Η Αίγυπτος του 19ου αιώνα μέσα από τον φακό των αφανών αδελφών Ζαγκάκη
ΚΑΙΤΗ ΛΙΑΝΟΥ - ΙΩΑΝΝΙΔΟΥ "Ο χορός των λυγμών" Μυθιστόρημα
Καίτη Λιανού - Ιωαννίδου :Ο χορός των λυγμών
Εκδόσεις :Αγγελάκη
Ετος Εκδοσης :2021
σελίδες : 474
Δέσιμο: Μαλακό εξώφυλλο
ISBN: 978-960-616-196-4
Σάββατο 29 Μαΐου 2021
Three poems of Subash Singh Parajuli ( Poet from Nepal )
What do I write
Do I write Supremo’s tedious acts to men
Do I write their misfortune of being devoted to him
Do I narrate tug of War in between of brothers for hoax democracy
Do I write a state’s melancholy who is being sandwiched by trespassers
What do I write
Do I write a tale of untold sliver lining clouds
Do I write few verses of a flower that springs from gutter
Do I write her lecherous beauty that sucks many eyes
Do I write a poem of hungry serpent slithering on the highway
Do I write a baby’s shattered dream who is basking by the tomb of his father that sent away from overseas
What do I write
Do I write a mystical journey of predators
Do I write celibacy life of Gurus with maiden
For all what the seeds that they do drop
Will wisely return as per karma’s future crop
So, what do I write
To those one whose game of thrones has seized by self
Or That what you are seeking from others that is your own graveyard
For all everything happens at its own pace
When you eventually cease for nothing you get perfect joy and peace!
Do I write to celebrate life while you have it that you found
Or still waits till it turns to be ripen fruit falls to the ground!?!
Refugee
Every year after year, I migrate as a migratory bird for the last destination
The destination of map is divided by the whole emperor
My living is become as curse
That often barters with substantial purse
Within existing of zillions body I always remain as alien
Seasons after seasons, duly many insulted my body
Without any sensible reasons I am being averse
When I wished to belong to the whole universe
Day by day, I am being swept away by a conflict and violence
That driven out to be summoned in temple and old place
Where God even cast a shadow of ghost
And treats me as a conviction and criminal
I travelled thousand miles and miles crumbling through terrain
Where dunes appear as green mirage of valleys
I sail throughout sea waves drowning dear ones
I have nothing but little attire to hide my gender
Everybody laughs wherever I roam to protect identity
Sometimes I become Rahina of Barma
Sometimes I become Kurdish of Iraq
Sometimes I become monks of Tibet
Mostly I become a victim of nuclear debate
which put much stake on my sentiments of breathing
that starve to death with terror feelings
When I was living in a beauty of small hamlet
The landscape of hills and rivers covered by lethal war
My harmonious family and identity has been buried within it
that drags me to seek a host of companionship
and I flee with hungry breathing
striving with burden of death
as being a refugee within zillion of bodies
I travel from eastern to western valley
For seeking a good nap and breadcrumb throughout dead alleys.
She was left as orphan
And remained as abandoned trash in the nook of street
Who was unknown of her father
Nor she had seen face of her mother
She didn't know where was her abode
And from where she came to nearby an oak tree
As days passed, often fighting with astra dogs for living
Sometimes, being playful with gnats and frogs
under the shade of a tree
She rejoiced her loneliness within crowded faces
One-day, when her tender hands being taken
The tree's leaves flutter to seek her for seasons
The dogs get mourned for days
Birds forgot to sing from the branch of old tree
None have seen where she is been
After years, the same street named as 'Red Light Street
Where like her, many nestlings are being caged!!
Short bio of poet
Παρασκευή 28 Μαΐου 2021
Three poems of Diwash Ghimire - Poet from Nepal
Diwash Ghimire -Nepal
Oh..! man
Earth is the bosom of motherhood,
Why are you fighting as Palestine and Israel?
If the mother's arms are not safe,
Understand
We will all end.
Oh...! man
Open your eyes, ask your heart,
The wound on the mother's arm,
It hurts us all.
Oh...! man
You faint
When trying to kill another,
You can't be safe yourself.
Ih....! man
Seek to understand the truth,
Ask yourself
You and I are on the same earth.
Oh...! man
You are fighting a bloody war,
Not far from me
Your war has hurt me here.
*****
A White mother dove Poet - Diwas Ghimire
To express a love for the beauty of nature,
The white mother dove is flying in the sky,
It is bringing a message of peace and love.
To keep warm with sunlight,
Butterflies are dancing,
And flowers are blooming,
The white mother dove is flying in the sky,
It is bringing a message of peace and love.
Humans are planting small trees and seeds,
The clouds are happy and the rain is happy,
The white mother dove is flying in the sky,
It is bringing a message of peace and love.
The rainbow is making the sky more beautiful,
To express a love for the beauty of nature,
The white mother dove is flying in the sky,
It is bringing a message of peace and love.
*****
FROM THE MOTHER WOMB POET
Diwash Ghimire Nepal
This earth belong to me
Yes , its belongs to me
Why fighting and shouting
Yes , the land belong to me
The earth belong to me
The universe belong to me
Trees, Mountains, River ,Birds
Everything belong to me
Yes, its mine
The holy places belong to me
All the country belong to me
My country belong to you
And you belong to me
I was inside my mother womb
I want to see this beautiful earth
yes the land belong to me
But unfortunately i couldn't
See this beautiful earth
yesterday i was killed together with mother
In bomb blast
I cryed , shouted but nobody listened
yesterday, i was killed together with mother in bomb blast
I was unlucky ,
I couldn't observe this beautiful earth
This beautiful heaven
Yes , its true yesterday , i was killed together with mother in bomb blast .
Τετάρτη 26 Μαΐου 2021
ΔΗΜΗΤΡΗΣ ΒΑΡΒΑΡΗΓΟΣ "Παράτα με" Μυθιστόρημα
ISBN: 978-618-5556-53-2
ΣΙΜΟΣ ΑΝΔΡΟΝΙΔΗΣ "Τζον Ντος Πάσσος / Manhattan Transfer"
Ελένη Βασιλείου-Αστερόσκονη "Άγγελοι" Ποιητική Συλλογή