Treasure Island

Constantinos Grigoriadis

(28-2-1955 / Greece)

Identity


I asked myself who iam.
I was looking for identity.
I felt the silent of my soul.
........................
........................
read full text »


Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Comments about this poem (Identity by Constantinos Grigoriadis )

Enter the verification code :

  • Peter Stavropoulos (6/14/2007 3:05:00 PM)

    For what my opinion is worth, Constantin, another excellent poem. Again the imagery is powerful. In your biographical clip you stated your uncertainty of identity, or unwillingness to define or limit your identity, and this desire for poetic freedom and license has again been expressed very well. If this is an underlining theme of your work, and you can maintain the powerful imagery, then you could produce a sustained work on this subject. Something I would enjoy to read. For what my opinion is worth. I'm only a writer like you. Best wishes. (Report) Reply

  • Pia Andersson (3/11/2007 1:05:00 PM)

    Beautiful...yes the stars are homeless or perhaps they feel at home whereever they are..i like your poem
    Wishing you a joyful evening
    Pia (Report) Reply

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Let not this earth be divided, gajanan mishra
  2. With situation, hasmukh amathalal
  3. Misery Loves Company, Bill Cantrell
  4. Hot Summer Tanka, Toshie Nohara
  5. No need to ask, gajanan mishra
  6. Truth, Tony Adah
  7. Walking the dog, Nassy Fesharaki
  8. Prince Charming, Electric Lady
  9. With promising words, hasmukh amathalal
  10. pray to me, tara mahdavi

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]