Biography of Panmelys
Born poor. Had wonderful teachers who helped me climb out of the hole. Lived in East End London 5 yrs, then Wales (motherland of Mother) where we were even poorer. Obtained a SRN certificate; escaped to N.A. joined MRT dramatic art school in Montreal, obtained certificate after 2 year training in order to read my poems and those of others in a professional way. Lived in Quebec, married with 3 children- moved to New York then to Paris and have lived there ever since. A nobody who believes she's a somebody meant to pass on her messages. Boasting was once a Greek attribute, so maybe I've got some Greek blood, along with others, as I believe the genes hve their proper memory. Panmelys 2015 This name only to be used on all artistic work: please, thank you. PANMELYS
Hidden Force book of poems Canada l97O's. Many poems published in N. A. and France, usually submitted by friends. Some published in their French translations by René Agostini, Professor at University of Avignon, himself a poet, writer, musician. Just opened a website look under Panmelys.com, have fun and enjoy life, it's short. Live every moment as if it were your last- and remember: Love is never wasted, even when it does't last.
warm winter overtones of a sunset's glow poet paints deep emotions of an epoch's passing
The Chess Game
Vanity is an integrated part Of every artist: Even their modesties are suspect, To be understood
Child Of Delight
For you small child of delight with your wild wayward cries this world I would remake
Hands That Rock Cradles - Rule Worlds
Born into an age long flown into winds of which no rerurn will ever revive - glory
this is not that hour that was, nor ever shall be, what once ran wildly - with the wind's frenzy
Foe A Syrian Baby's Grave
How to exult a poem on this day when you awake to see a little boy washed upon the shores of your counry, drowned: no words can remove these tears which have jogged,
Yesterday's Unfinished Say
Great art will always be great love, of finding paths to show beloved its aching heart, keeping tryst with something missed.
Homage To Carol Ann Duffy
It's always worth one's while to absorb vibes, Vibrations, from other people's work and lives, Last listening was a reading by a poet laureate Whose poetry sang sagas and ballads alive
Welsh Patterns In English Tongue
Strict metric melodies mold - and mingle with jingle sounds so old hard to behold and uphold - Celtic tidal tides, long rolled.
Now, in this January cold I let my old bones think of thee A son of New Year's birthday born Where our first morn did eyes so see
St Valentine Message Of Love
Another dream, another illusion Where waking finds an empty pillow Another hope, another deception Where aching heart sees no tomorrow
We were lovers in a hurried world. We were worried so we gave to others What our hearts desired for ourselves.
Spring Rain Homage To T.S. Eliot
Has the Winter kept you warm Covered you in forgetful snow And will you not now Allow my Spring Rain to ripen
A Token Kiss
Ir's love as light as snow whose soft embrace as gentle as those flakes that fell somewhere
A Token Kiss
Ir's love as light as snow
whose soft embrace
as gentle as those flakes
that fell somewhere
on childhood's face
bestows upon my brow
a token kiss, of something missed!