Creation and Criticism

ISSN: 2455-9687  

(A Quarterly International Peer-reviewed Refereed e-Journal

Devoted to English Language and Literature)

Issue 03 : Oct 2016

Five Poems of Dimitris P. Kraniotis


Dimitris P. Kraniotis (1966), who lives and works as a physician in Larissa, Greece, has been invited and participated in several International Poetry Festivals around the World. He is the author of 7 poetry books: "Traces" (1985), "Clay Faces" (1992), "Fictitious Line" (2005, "Dunes" (2007), "Endogram" (2010), "Edda" (2010) and "Illusions"(2010) and the Editor-in-Chief of the international anthology in English "World Poetry 2011" (205 poets from 65 countries). Also he is one of the 76 co-authors from 26 countries of the Global Harmony Association’s book “The ABC of Harmony” (candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize 2013). He has won international awards for his poetry which has been translated in 25 languages and published in many countries around the World. He can be contacted at dimitriskraniotis@gmail.com.


 

1. Fictitious Line

 

Smokes

of cigarettes

and mugs

full of coffee,

next

to the fictitious line

where the eddy

of words

leans against

and nods,

wounded,

to my silence.

  

2. Sinful Corners

 

“St. Nicon Repent-Υe”

on the calendar

of a cloudy morning,

with the rain to persist,

determined to wash away

the Erinyes of guilts,

victories and defeats

in sinful corners

of pavements and rooms,

of minor moments

and of similar, too.

  

3. Illusions 

 

Noiseless wrinkles

on our forehead

the frontiers of history,

shed oblique glances

at Homer’s verses.

Illusions

full of guilt

redeem

wounded whispers

that became echoes

in lighted caves

of the fools and the innocent.

  

4. Stolen Receivers

 

Engraved rocks

with pictures

of intense feelings,

naked wood-frames

with paintings

of faceless garments,

delusions in succession

of inactive volcanoes,

fields under extinction

of childhood

furious wounds

in set-up trials

and we, command-givers,

stolen ideas receivers.

  

5. Ashes

 

The fireplace

was eager

to put a fullstop,

in the sentence

where the road

of my dreams

stuck

upon the word of happiness

with sparkles

of wet logs

I collected

from the inside of me

that I dared

to turn to ashes.