Wednesday, February 1, 2017

CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU


CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

I'M NOT A REAL POETESS

Soon I will write
Real Poetry
I strive for this a long time
But I produce fragments
That's why I do not recommend them to the crowd
I shall continue to practice in metaphore
In allegory, in mappings
In symmetry, in beauty
On the rythm and the metron
I limited myself even in rhyme
So I acquire the courage
To write One day even only One poem
Which will sweeten the undeniable loneliness







TONGUE OUT

Tongue out
Life, home, manners
became caricatures


Cheap morticians
undertake even the
burying of dreams

An aversion
for what I was adequately
fascinated with
I do not understand anymore

On which foundations did I build
my life?
How much falsehood did they feed me?

It's outrageous really
that I return in adolescence
in my fifties .

I trust only
my internal being
and there's wilderness in there

That was your life, Madam!
Admit it! It has gone.
Take it easy. Peace...

Fly for the last time
Try your wings again
You are experienced in falling down

No problem...







TO FEEL

For some reason I gather things
I gather tears inside me
I gather screams
I gather words
As the ant does with the seeds
As I gather the summer clothes in the closets
Someday, one day will come, won't it ?
It will bloom again
Even for a moment
A great moment
The next great moment
I want to live now
Sometimes it is impossible
Nowadays, it is impossible for many people
I collect words inside me
I gather sceams
I gather tears
I feel
At least I feel something
(c)
CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

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