ANGELA HRONOPOULOU

 

By Your Hand...

 

For how much longer will you balance

with the emptiness of your life wasting away?

Weights in your holey pockets are the broken dreams.

Injured legs from the marches

in the broken castles of youth,

where you keep coming back...

Broken glasses the words

that you strive in vain to match...

And cracks everywhere.

They wait your one stumble.

Arrogance once saved you

Not enough now.

Nothing is enough!

Contradictions killed hope

or you, mindlessly,

suffocate her in the crib?

Your cries in the wreckage are untimely.

Your horizon is full of closed doors

Every look turns back idly.

All land is disappeared.

This is your work!

It’s not about to change anymore.

You see? Time cooled down too.

Now you know!..

 

Matching Travels

 

With wishes and supplications,

little traveler,

castles are not taken.

Tomorrow is not even touched.

Keep these words in mind:

Far to go, don’t lust!

The valuables inside you are beating!

You got old and didn’t feel, little traveler,

the simple things of the mind, the self-evident things.

 

Great preparations are useless.

If you didn’t think in yourself,

if you didn’t wander around thirsty

from the beginning to be taught,

to crawl like a baby...

The farthest yet so close to you to taste

with the longing of the illiterate,

with the stubbornness of a torrent,

you didn’t understand anything!

Don’t mess with Time!

It was given to you,

but you wasted the precious gift.

You’ve been forgotten for a long time

in distant trenches

and the battle was lost, little traveler.

So unfair...

 

Did We Forget?

 

We hung those dreams

- Do you remember? -

in the lively, happy sun!

“Wait”, we were saying,

“for conditions to ripen”.

But we forgot.

We just gave up.

And the Winds tore them apart.

They are damaged now.

As faded rags they lie down.

Half-melted from the storms of conceit

and yet so clean!

Our dreams, my friend!

Deep down we didn’t believe

that we would ever go back

at that time

where the look was torn in two...

Irrevocably now!

At that time

we knew it was the last...

 

ANGELA HRONOPOULOU

 

ANGELA HRONOPOULOU is a poet and a writer. She was born in Thessaloniki, Greece. She studied at the American College of Greece. She has published two personal poem collections. Her poems have been awarded in literary competitions and have participated in Poetry Anthologies, literary magazines and literary websites.