Saturday, April 1, 2023





Metamorphosis, a tale so strange and true

Of a man transformed, what he must endure

From human form, to insect he's changed

His world now upside down, rearranged

The weight of his body, his family's disdain

His voice unheard, in their eyes he's vain

No longer a son, a husband, a brother

Just a bug, unwanted, by all others

Yet in his mind, he's still the same

Though his body's changed, his soul remains

Lost in a world, he doesn't understand

Caught in a metamorphosis, beyond his command

The walls close in, his freedom confined

His once-happy life, now forever declined

He yearns for release, to be set free

But the world he knew, no longer sees him as he

The tale of Gregor Samsa, haunts us still

A story of change, of loss, of free will

It challenges our views, of what it means to be

And the true nature, of humanity.


Prehistoric Footprint


A footprint in the sand, a simple trace,

Yet holds within its lines, a tale untold,

Of creatures once so strange and wondrous grace,

That roamed this earth, so ancient, so bold.

The prehistoric footprint of man,

A record of a time so long ago,

When giants walked, and beasts roamed the land,

And life was wild, and nature ruled the show.

This single step, a link to our past,

A window to a world so different now,

Of hunters, gatherers, and creatures vast,

That lived and died, before recorded how.

Yet in this print, a message still remains,

Of our ancestry, our roots, and where we stand,

A reminder of the journey that sustains,

And the connection to this ancient land.

Cherish this footprint in the sand,

And all it tells us of our story grand,

And hold it close, as a symbol so grand,

Of our journey through time, hand in hand.




In ancient times, when gods still roamed,

And tales of heroes filled the land,

The Muses sang, a rhythmic drone,

Of battles won, and loves so grand.

The mythodea, a symphony,

Of melodies and stories told,

Of courage, strength, and destiny,

Of heroes bold, and legends old.

With lyres in hand, and voices strong,

The Muses spun their tales divine,

Of daring deeds, and epic wrongs,

Of battles fought, and loves that shine.

Their music echoed through the ages,

A timeless sound, so rich and true,

A celebration of life's stages,

Of all that's great, and all that's new.

Listen to the Μythodea,

And bask in its melodic glow,

And feel the wonder, and the majesty,

Of the tales, the Muses' hearts still know.




ELENI IOANNOU is from Kavala, Greece.___Writes poetry, is involved in painting and photography.___She has attended theater, creative writing, architectural design, painting, photography, singing and piano classes. She participates in seminars when she gets the chance because she likes to refresh her knowledge.___She has studied Fashion Design, Interior Design and Makeup Artist in schools in Athens. During her studies, she has taken part in group painting exhibitions and fashion shows.___She has participated in photography galleries of Fotografos magazine, in group photography exhibitions, in painting exhibitions such as "Artistic May 2016", Cheap Art, REMbrand name at Gallery Lola Nikolaou, etc.___Her poems have been awarded in Greece and abroad and are available in electronic and printed form, in ebooks and poetry anthologies. Her photographs and paintings have also been recognized and awarded.___She is in constant action and feels lucky because she is doing what she loves and expresses herself. After all, life is too short to be sad...



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