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Άρθρα με ετικέτα ‘Ποίηση’

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Eerie Woods

Eerie woods, a weasel plays, Sleek and swift inside a maze, Through the grass, it hops and kicks, Chasing mice with playful tricks, Moonlit night or sunny day, Whiskers twitch, there’s no delay, Silent woods, a weasel eats, Hungry tummy’s joy repeats.             woods δάσος eerie απόκοσμος, μυστηριώδης sleek στιλπνός,… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο With Treats in Hand

                      His feet were frozen, his throat a bit sore, But Lance dreamt of treats, he couldn’t ignore. “I want ice cream,” he quacked with delight, “And frozen custard, now, that would be alright!” His friends were concerned, said, “Rest, take a break!” The penguin… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο The Tale of a Doodling Fish

In the ocean deep, a fishboy drew, His scales so bright, a colourful view. In class, he’d float, his mind afar, Doodling dreams beneath the ocean’s star. Teacher spoke of waves and sea, But he painted worlds wild and free. Ignored the lessons, lost in his trance, A fish with fins, and a vivid glance…. (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Mr Ant’s Class

With diligence and eagerness, Melissa took flight, In the realm of words, she found her light. Mr Ant, a teacher wise and keen, Encouraged her buzz, the classroom serene. The bee transformed, no longer tired, In Mr Ant’s class, she aspired. Words became wings, knowledge a quest, In the garden of learning, they both were… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο From Disdain to Delight

In a neighbourhood of Athens, where history whispers its tale, Lived a brother and sister, just ten and eight, setting sail. School bells would chime, a rhythm frail, Yet their disdain for learning, they couldn’t curtail. Their teacher, a man with warmth and care, Guided with patience, a beacon of light. In lessons, he wove… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο The Wild Iris

At the end of my suffering there was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting. Then nothing. The weak sun flickered over the dry surface. It is terrible to survive as consciousness buried in the dark earth. Then it was over: that which… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd: Petals on a wet, black bough. – Ezra Pound (1885-1972) This poem was first published in 1913 and is considered one of the leading poems of the Imagist tradition. Pound’s process of deletion from thirty lines to only fourteen words typifies Imagism’s focus on economy of language,… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Happy New

Joe yelled, “Happy New Year.” The cow yelled, “Happy Moo Year.” The ghost yelled, “Happy Boo Year.” The doctor yelled, “Happy Flu Year.” The penguin sneezed, “Happy Ah-choo Year.” The skunk yelled, “Happy Pee-yoo Year.” The owl hooted, “Happy Too-woo Year.” The cowboy yelled, “Happy Yahoo Year.” The trainman yelled, “Happy Choo-choo year.” The clock… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Canary
28 Δεκ 2023

Canary

Συντάκτης: Κων/νος Βούλγαρης | Κάτω από: Εκπαίδευση στον 21ο αιώνα

Billie Holiday’s burned voice had as many shadows as lights, a mournful candelabra against a sleek piano, the gardenia her signature under that ruined face. (Now you’re cooking, drummer to bass, magic spoon, magic needle. Take all day if you have to with your mirror and your bracelet of song.) Fact is, the invention of… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο I Saw a Man Pursuing the Horizon

I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. “It is futile,” I said, “You can never—” “You lie,” he cried, And ran on. – Stephen Crane (1871-1900)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο These Stories We Wear

these stories we wear— scars, stretchmarks, wrinkles, are wrongly labelled as imperfections. but aren’t they such beautiful, courageous signs of how we have lived?   – Sabina Laura

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο When You Come

      When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few. Baubles of stolen kisses. Trinkets of borrowed loves. Trunks of secret words, I CRY.   – Maya Angelou (1928-2014)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Dreams
27 Δεκ 2023

Dreams

Συντάκτης: Κων/νος Βούλγαρης | Κάτω από: Εκπαίδευση στον 21ο αιώνα

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. – Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens   – William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) This clean-cut gem by Jewish American poet and doctor William Carlos Williams invites us into a moment of mindfulness and appreciation of everyday beauty.

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Robert Frost

  Robert Frost (1874-1963) was an American poet from San Francisco, California.  

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο The Purple Cow

I never saw a purple cow, I never hope to see one, But I can tell you, anyhow, I’d rather see than be one! Gelett Burgess (1866-1951) was an American artist, art critic, poet, author and humorist from Boston, Massachusetts.

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Snowball
25 Δεκ 2023

Snowball

Συντάκτης: Κων/νος Βούλγαρης | Κάτω από: Εκπαίδευση στον 21ο αιώνα

              I made myself a snowball, As perfect as could be, I thought I’d keep it as a pet, And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas, And a pillow for its head. Then last night it ran away, But first, it wet the bed! – Shel… (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Νικηφόρος Βρεττάκος

Το παιδί με τη σάλπιγγα          Αν μπορούσες να ακουστείς θα σου έδινα την ψυχή μου να την πας ως την άκρη του κόσμου. Nα την κάνεις περιπατητικό αστέρι ή ξύλα αναμμένα για τα Χριστούγγενα— στο τζάκι του Νέγρου ή του Έλληνα χωρικού. Να την κάνεις ανθισμένη μηλιά στα παράθυρα των φυλακισμένων…. (συνέχεια…)

Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Mark Strand

Mark Strand (1934-2014) was a Canadian-born American poet, essayist and translator from Summerside, Prince Edward Island. He was a professor of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University from 2005 until his death in 2014. Η μετάφραση που έκανα σε αυτό το ποίημα αποτελεί ταυτόχρονα και μία αυθαίρετη ερμηνεία, καθώς δεν είναι σαφές εάν μιλάει… (συνέχεια…)

Otto Leland Bohanan (1895-1932) was an African-American poet, composer and singer from Washington, DC.   The Washer-Woman A great swart cheek and the gleam of tears, The flutter of hopes and the shadow of fears, And all day long the rub and scrub With only a breath betwixt tub and tub. Fool! Thou hast toiled… (συνέχεια…)