danae kavouridi
danae kavouridi Poems
Wet eyes,
but no tear on this youthful part of skin,
the part where tears go, when they drop.
The taxi driver said: baby, you look so young,
...
Throw a pebble on the water and let it jump three times.
Bring her a flower, not a dozen of roses.
A living flower, a cyclamen rooted deeply in warm soil,
just place it on her window,
...
Smile to me the land is green,
cherry blossoms, mandarin,
the greatest things are to be seen,
come and hold me be my queen.
...
Whisper to me a song goodnight
and place me in your hug
the hug that has the limit of starry skies.
I don’t mind that you have muddy wings
...
We are all tiny pebbles
at the end of the beach,
next to the rocks
where the wave angrily splashes.
...
The sky was blue and it was night,
The road was full of cars
wandering like crazy glow worms.
She was standing right in the middle of the street,
...
Thursday evening
11: 45 the time is now,
just got back
from my painting class...
...
I was never a princess,
but in my dreams
I travelled through golden skies
and slept on feather clouds.
...
It’s been a while ago,
that my path was
filled with silent sorrow.
Blocked all the joy,
...
If I was a good painter I would draw the air
I have stopped weeping now and scribbling my dreams.
Someone told me a story, it was about his dogs
they were locked in cages in his big green garden for half a day.
...
I had a tattoo with your name
on the skin surface,
between my thumb
and my forefinger vein,
...
You know these types of love
that are like teenage dreams
filled with pink ink hearts,
on a school notebook,
...
All alone like a tiny stone
who can see this part of me?
All I have been until this dawn.
is a little tree- great and green promised to be.
...
It’ s time to sleep,
Fall in the nest of broken sorrows
Don’t come back home,
Don’t bring your abusing footsteps
...
There were three,
cancer beds
on the old house
with the grey crumbled walls.
...
danae kavouridi Biography
My name is Danae, I live in Athens, Greece and I work as a psychologist in a Dementia day care centre. I write since my teenage years. The last seven years I wrote Poetry and short stories, even blogs. I have lots of inspiration but my personal time is around two hours a day. I am a working single mother. My first readings and inspirations were many. I will always distinguish Gabriel Garcia Marquez as my favourite writer also Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Herman Hesse and many others. As for poets, Pablo Neruda, Federico Garcia Lorca, Vladimir Mayakovski and many Greek poets such as Yiannis Ritsos and Tasos Leivaditis (my favourite) .)
The Best Poem Of danae kavouridi
The Taxi Man
Wet eyes,
but no tear on this youthful part of skin,
the part where tears go, when they drop.
The taxi driver said: baby, you look so young,
a Lolita, a sweet marshmallow,
a skin that hasn’t sinned…
(only if he knew)
the non-regretted sins,
the drugs, the alcohol,
all the astonishing addictions,
the wild non-love making
with men, once she thinks a woman maybe…
Can she really remember?
Her distinguished youth,
A rock n’ roll adolescence,
That led an old serious Jewish therapist to the words
“we cannot work together anymore’’
she was rejected once again
by a man who was deeply in love with her…
Always used to make fun of his shoes:
How can a forty year old Freudian lined psychoanalyst
wear low Doc Martins?
Now she tries to cry,
swallowing her last fashionable rejection…
by such a sweet man,
but still a man.
She’s not in love or in lust,
It’s only a formally authorized hope,
for a second soft, pure stroke –
with the fingers of the back of the palm
to the noticeable (by the taxi man) youthful skin.
In the ride, she said:
I ‘m a mother- I ‘m thirty two years old.
Admiration again!
To him, with the soft touch
She said nothing…
There was no admiration,
Just a sad feeling of sympathy saying
“I think I know your world,
but I do not want to come in.
I ‘m already destroyed by love,
by a woman with a less perfect skin”.
She tries to cry,
For him-for that rejection.
But no! Just wet eyes and permanent frowned eyebrows
‘’people who think a lot always have that’’
grandpappa said at her sixteen birthday….
Tomorrow she smiles again,
and life continues
with self born sarcasm and unconditional generosity.
The taxi driver said
'smile, it makes you pretty'
She did!
It made her pretty…
but all she wants is another stroke-
by him, on the cheek…
Hey! A tear!
Oh no, just a crazy joke!
Her mood is partially back.
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