Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Best Cypriot Poems

Below are the all-time best Cypriot poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Cypriot poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Cypriot poems, articles about Cypriot poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Cypriot poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

New Cypriot Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cypriot poems are below this new poems list.

View all new Cypriot Poems

The Best Cypriot Poems

Details | Cypriot Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Living Painting

“Where is it?” I asked the art dealer with no preamble whatsoever. The tears were about to spill down my cheeks, and I found it hard to get the words past the lump in my throat. He sensed it.

He looked down at me from his studio balcony. “I sold it.”

I turned away and ran towards my car, the grief eating away at my soul as the tears now gushed down needing release. Why had I waited? It was too late. Too late.

At home, I flung myself on the living room couch and through sobs, told my husband what had happened. He looked at me dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what that painting meant to me. 
He had been away on one of his many trips when I had passed by the art studio and seen the painting. Perhaps anyone else would have found it plain, not outstanding, not heart stopping, but for the first time, a painting actually spoke to my heart.  I was enthralled by the image of a wooden door of a typical Cypriot village home- just a door but cascading down around it was a spray of fuchsia bougainvillea, my favorite flower. The contrast of the colors of the door, the wall, and that spray of heavenly flowers was simply overwhelming. I loved everything quaint…the lovely villages of Cyprus, the cobblestone streets, the picturesque homes. My heart mourned. It would not be comforted.

Why hadn't I just written a check? Why had I waited to ask for permission when I knew how badly I wanted that painting to be hung on my wall, feeding my soul every day with beauty? Why had I been naive enough to tell the art dealer that every time I passed by the window, my heart would beat in a frenzy, for after that, he had placed it in the very front of the display window. Now it was gone. FOREVER.

Time passed. Every time I remembered my painting, my heart bled. I moved to Lebanon. You can never know how overwhelmed I was when I first saw the backyard of my new home, for there were TWO fuchsia bougainvillea trees, the branches of one reaching down to almost touch my dining room window. 

My heart sings everyday, for these flowers are not captured on canvas, they live. The flowers dance and sway with the breeze, contrasting with the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, and the brown of the pine tree trunks. I look at the spray of glorious flowers, and my soul is fed by my loving God.

Persian Proverb by Saadi: 

“If of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left
Sell one and from the dole
Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul”

Eileen G

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013