Saturday, October 1, 2022



You Forgot


wrong and you know it

but you have to learn to suffer

In the station you will wait for

the spring you expect

and yet you are old for enduring...

And your love that you had lost

in the suitcase you had forgotten

the dreams that you had folded

In the canopy of the sky

you had spread

But when love becomes a

habit then when everyone asks for

help, you are somewhere else

and cry the truth that your

lover was reading

from bitter fairy tales...


Love Is Blossoming


A flower that

life is love

In the garden of the soul

blooms the kiss, the caress...

Love transforms

with a brush of joy


Love is translated

into many languages

​​It brings spring to the look

it brings the smiling sun

Love will say that you give emotion

and receive a breath of happiness

Love someone said

that it is the embrace of the stars

in the peaceful and bright moon of companionship...


The Pooling Waters Of Poetry


Pooling waters cause

conflicts at the level

of a non-negotiable

hyperbolic egocentrism.

Suggestions for exchanging expressions

under the cover of immature inks.

Virtual frequencies of waves,

an enchanted tide of thoughts

that penetrates mental wires,

artificial smell, melancholic

psychically charged sentiments

and perceptions...

Those who know how to recognize

the words are not ashamed to

look them in the face, since

they themselves neither swim in shallow mental

waters, nor do they converse in maddening

undercurrents and tender ups and downs

in a ship of poetry anchored in lands of

spiritual silence.

Thoughts tyrannize the night,

their sleeplessness becomes a moon sponge

fighting with star swords and shields

the heavenly pillows of unruly clouds.

Ponding but internally peaceful

poetic waters, phrases and exclamations being

refreshments flow seductively

on the lips of

paper pages thirsty for eternal coolness,

having scrawled words

and crossed adverbs in entire

headings of the modern paltry,

tasteless oozing wooden discourse of knowledge.

Then as if from a machine hope comes the

liberating, heartfelt kiss of poetry to

redeem hesitations, notions and entertainment

the pages are reborn bright without routines

and gray houses or a gray neighborhood

the inner psychic sun bathes with its lyrical

rays, giving true meaning

to a weary traveler

the exuberant...of "becoming"...down!




PETROS KYRIAKOU VELOUDAS was born in Agrinio in 1977, where he still lives today. He graduated in Greek Culture at the Open University of Greece School of Humanities in Patras. He has worked as a radio producer in local radio stations, while publishing his humorous poems or stories in the newspapers of the city of Agrinio such as MACHITIS, ANANGELIA, PALMOS. He is a kindergarten teacher and works as a private employee. Today he is a member of the International Society of Greek Writers (DEEL). His literary work is included in the Panhellenic poetic encyclopedia of CHARIS PATSIS. He is a member of the International Society of Greek Writers (DEEL), executive director of the poets' guild of Argentina, academic poet of the Brazilian poetry academy-AMCL, member of the WORLD POETS UNION, WRITERS' UNION, WORLD POETS UNION, GREEK POET AMBASSADOR FOR EQUALITY IN BANGLADESH. His poems are translated into many languages, he is also a lyricist. His songs are on youtube. Hobbies, comic reader and creator, amateur actor.



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