Alisa Evsyukova

Rookie (1975 / Russia)

Biography of Alisa Evsyukova

Alisa Evsyukova poet

Artist, Journalist, Poet, Psychologist./

I was born in Krasnodar in the south of Russia where the rational analytical West and the ideological spiritual East met and merged.
Poetry has always been my faithful companion that helped me to unlock the philosophies and religions of different epochs, cultures and diverse intellectual directions. My thirst for knowledge developed my consciousness.
“We are like buds closed; as your consciousness become bigger you become a flower…one thousand-petalled lotus.” (Osho-Bhagwan Sree Rajneesh) .Consequently, a blissful aroma spreads around us, as we comprehend the expression in every creation. I believe that verses have the spirit of communication that goes beyond merely what the ear hears
My poems expresses my life’s experiences and spiritual realization. Poetry, for me, is a language we all speak as love is a common experience we all share.
I believe that poetry is the way of seeing the world hidden under a mask of the ordinary, concealed it behind a grey customary façade. There is a miracle behind it: prediction of the Future, prediction of the Present.
Poetry is the way of universal understanding; it speaks through the hearts and reaches the souls. poetry aims to achieve of love and to enhance the quality of man’s spirit. Is is the call of the soul; a verse can be the essence of the beauty of the universe from the Universe. My fervent wish is that my paintings will send out the light and will be able to reach people everywhere, empowering them to change our world and make it a better place.
Art showed me the way to freedom. This freedom helped me to realize my mission in life. Life is a gift, it is a beautiful poetry. When I open my heart to life, inspiration descends on me like shimmers of golden rain quenching my thirst, penetrating my body, my thoughts and filling my soul with unconditional love. This love replicates itself in my creations and allows the world to share with me this sublime blessing.

PoemHunter.com Updates

It’s Time To Choose.

The seconds are smashed like glass of beads
That dropped on black asphalt.
The clock is counting sluggish beads
Of chilling lifeless heart.
The existence is drifting in the waves of time,
Recalling the Breeze of Truth.
The reminiscence is watching trough immortal life
The Emergent of ancient ruts.
The endless cry of the lost souls

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