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Panagiota Zaloni Poem
PANAGIOTA CHRISTOPOULOU-ZALONI
Poetess, novelist, essayist, painter,
Editor of literary magazine KELAINO
e-mail: tzina@otenet.gr
Address: Zaloggou 16, 13231 Petroupoli-Athens-Greece
Haiku in English
of Mrs Panagiota Christopoulou-Zaloni
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Poem and love
With scented thoughts
Holy Communion
*
Lyres are starting
Divinely are chanting
I feel so happy.
*
Pain and sorrow
Filled is the heart
Sigh of blood.
*
My white roses
Same with my sorrow
They are so faded.
*
The snow of your Soul
A shroud to your dignity
Was a destiny?
*
White violets
For Christ’s Resurrection
I bind with poetry.
*
In my happiness
The clouds falling piously
Became vowels
*
Nostalgia’s music
On the leaves of time
It is twisting.
*
Crumbs from your kisses
Mixed up with memories
I am gathering.
*
For the resurrection
Of the “substance”
Crash yours “ego”.
*
Fragrance of memories
In the leaves of your mind
Icons hand painted.
*
The train of your life
The road carved by love
Has passed away
*
Was demolished
The castle of my dreams
Without any reason
*
Stars of diamonds
In your apron tonight
Feel sentimental
*
The white pigeon
On the great horizon
Writes “Freedom”
*
The cruel masters,
Which are hard dominators,
We deny them all.
*
Pale from sorrow
Looks upon to my memories
The moon of my mind
*
They are planted
In children’s smiles now
Cartridges of machine – gun
*
Night of January
Behind the barbwire
I saw light of hope
*
Lights on the waters
The kisses are gleaming
The shore shines.
*
The wind and the mind
Sure for eternity
They are running
*
Fear at wide plains
Love’s nets were ruined
The birds homeless
*
Mine sacred cup
I feel with light from the moon
And burn incense
*
Ungratefulness
You wore me the sorrows
Stuck on my body
*
I think of writing
Thoughts and words
With another ink
*
Will search and find
A perfectly smiling ink
And a pen of joy
*
Every morning
At everlasting time
YOU, ME and LOVE
*
I fix the poem
Cream rose coloured
I offer it to you.
Copyright © Panagiota Zaloni | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Panagiota Zaloni Poem
POEMS
0F MRS PANAGIOTA CHRISTOPOULOU-ZALONI
Athens-Greece
20160621
It’s time
It’s time of thought.
The Love discovers
Secret paths
And “she’s guided to the dream”.
It’s time of beautiful…
The Love conquers
The summit of Olympus
Emotion plays pleasantly.
It’s the time of union…
The Love gathers
Untouched roses
The night is perfumed with myrrh.
It’s time of coronation…
The Love on its throne
With pure golden wreaths
Happiness is liberated.
Words of mystery
In the coincidence of the times
The future things have come
Loaded with words of mystery
They spread them in our thirsty souls
And they passed through our pathless.
They are living there now,
Shy, enchanted and modest
They can’t reach our lips,
They only play silently, secretly,
Behind the transparent glow of our eyes,
When one sees himself
In the eyes of the other one,
Until the sunset comes behind them
And from the peeks, the wind blow round with myrrh,
Rolling downhill thyme and mint upon us.
Night’s song
The pillow on which you are getting old
With hours full of light,
With hours full of ecstasies
You, the open county-singer,
You, the god of fantasy
And the sky
From your open window
To fill your palms
With stars…
To set himself in silence
In old erotic paths
Enchanted by the country-singer’s songs
To be kissed in deep lust
With words, colors, fragrances,
Engraving lines
On the body of a night’s song
In chorus words
An ocean of emotions and feelings
Intoxicated,
He widens the night,
To explore boundlessness,
To conquer what’s absolute,
To imprison the skies
An ocean of thoughts and ideas
He rebels in the night, intoxicated
To be transformed into voices
So white and strange,
To be transformed in chorus words
Of texts of life,
To present again, lost moments
To be naturalized in time.
How?
Night…
A good night,
With its own mystery,
With its own torture
Without laughter
Your dream parked along
In an anonymous vertical line
On the road of Reality
It’s rising…
How?
How can you fight it?
Fuente Grande
She traveled, she traveled…
All the time she traveled in carefree,
On the hinder croups of her blue horse
But alas, yesterday, in the fountain
Of the new Fuente Grande
They harmed her on the back,
Full of jealousy, the obscene ones
She was assumed as a disturbing
Beggar of L o v e
Copyright © Panagiota Zaloni | Year Posted 2016
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