Dejan Stojanovic

Dejan Stojanovic Poems

To transform a grimace into a sound
Sounds impossible, yet it is possible
To transform a vision into music,
To go outside an enslaved personality,

Tell me something less significant,
Something about our biology, for instance,
About what you hear while sitting under the tree,
About lonely lions in the prairies;

There is a moonlight note
In the Moonlight Sonata;
There is a thunder note
In an angry sky.

I see a new star on the horizon;
It's not the Morning Star;
It's a star without light.
This star without the light is the brightest

We dream and fight
With demons real and imagined;
We only live if we dream;
We grow from our dreams,

From where do simplicity and ease
In the movement of heavenly bodies derive?
It is precision.
Sun is never late to rise upon the Earth,

To find the hidden place
Longing freely to explore
Break obstacles and recognize
Invisible sparks emanating

You shall not stop or hesitate and sway
Until you pass through the forest,
And compare the beauty of the summer's day and night—
Until you arrive in your own Ithaca.

To hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;

The sea was the house and the world was the nave
You were the sea and you were the nave

The nave was stormy, the sea was calm

I see you new tonight.
Thoughts on fire
Burn and scream—
New you are, tonight.

Singers pass but a song lives
Feeding the eternal flame

New minds, burning

Our world hides in the hospitable sea,
Murmurs tirelessly the forgotten song,
Tells the same story in a same way,
Listens to itself, indifferent to you,

You are from California
I am from the Midwest
But we met in Arizona
And went to the desert

In the dream, Homer, Lucretius, Virgil, Ovid, Dante, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, and Robert Frost meditate in the Kingdom by the sea and want to know if they found Eldorado.

Shall I compare you to the summer's night
My beautiful Anabel Lee?

I am your slave, desire,
I am your slave, pride,
I am your slave, vice,
I am your slave, success.

There can be no forced inspiration,
But there can be mergers with the world

There can be a flowing of feelings

There is a word on the crossroad
That marks the open road ahead;
There is a song coming from the dark woods
Of growing cities, no less dangerous;

Everything in nature exists
Based on the law of attraction.
Lovemaking derives from that law,
Fighting comes from the friction of conquest.

At twenty-six, I was inexperienced;
Still, I knew much about love
In the waste land, reasoning,
It's not important when you start

Dejan Stojanovic Biography

Dejan Stojanovic was born in Pec, Kosovo (the former Yugoslavia) , in 1959. Although a lawyer by education, he has never practiced law and instead became a journalist. He is a poet, essayist, philosopher, and businessman and published six critically acclaimed books of poetry in Serbia: 'Circling, ' 'The Sun Watches Itself, ' 'The Sign and Its Children, ' 'The Shape, ' 'The Creator, ' 'Dance of Time.' In 1986, as a young writer, he was recognized among 200 writers at the Bor (former Yugoslavia) Literary Festival. He also received the prestigious 'Rastko Petrovic' Award from the Society of Serbian Writers for his book of interviews with major European and American artists and intellectuals. In addition to poetry and prose, he has worked as a correspondent for the Serbian weekly magazine 'Pogledi' ('Views') . His book of interviews from 1990 to1992 in Europe and America, entitled 'Conversations, ' included interviews with several major American writers, including Nobel Laureate Saul Bellow, Charles Simic, and Steve Tesic. He has been living in Chicago since 1990.)

The Best Poem Of Dejan Stojanovic

Big Miniature

To transform a grimace into a sound
Sounds impossible, yet it is possible
To transform a vision into music,
To go outside an enslaved personality,
To become impersonal by transforming
Into sand, into water, into light,
To feel the air and breathe the air
By becoming the air, become
A bird, the first cell, the first man,
Become a wandering comet,
A dying star, a newborn cluster of stars
And hear the melody of galaxies,
Love making of black stars,
Sense the hellish or heavenly nature of quasars,
Be in everything and come back
To a miniscule particle of personality
To find out how great all is.

Dejan Stojanovic Comments

Jasbir Chatterjee 22 December 2011

Dancing of sounds is a beautiful poem on nature versus art...Yes, art is a mere imitation of life and nature in particular...

4 2 Reply
Sandra Kay Davis 27 May 2010

Astounding insights! Wisdom abounds in your words... THANK YOU!

5 2 Reply
Dickson Mseti 26 April 2010


4 0 Reply

Dejan Stojanovic Quotes

The deeper thought is, the taller it becomes.

My feelings are too loud for words and too shy for the world.

The most complicated skill is to be simple.

To hide feelings when you are near crying is the secret of dignity.

It is beautiful to express love and even more beautiful to feel it.

For a moment at least, be a smile on someone else's face.

I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.

Those who hate rain hate life.

Too often, feelings arrive too soon, waiting for thoughts that often come too late.

Either you will be you or you will not be at all.

I visited many places, Some of them quite Exotic and far away, But I always returned to myself.

Every star was once darker than the night, before it awoke.

When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.

Whatever others may say, they say it to deceive and comfort themselves, not help you.

There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.

Even if you are alone you wage war with yourself.

To risk life to save a smile on a face of a woman or a child is the secret of chivalry.

I recreate myself; that is my only power.

Words rich in meaning can be cheap in sound effects.

A breeze, a forgotten summer, a smile, all can fit into a storefront window.

When all is lost, there is still a memory.

Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.

I travel, always arriving in the same place.

You are not what you are; You are darkness Looking for light within.

One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.

You not only are hunted by others, you unknowingly hunt yourself.

He will understand when it is too late that it is easier to love.

Since there is no real silence, Silence will contain all the sounds, All the words, all the languages, All knowledge, all memory.

Nothing is made, nothing disappears. The same changes, at the same places, never stopping.

Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.

While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful.

It is beautiful to talk about beautiful things and even more beautiful to silently gaze at them.

The world is always open, Waiting to be discovered.

When within yourself you find the road, the right road will open.

We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.

Hope without love is hopeless.

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