Poems of Woman Scream 2019-Athens-Greece

ALEXIS DARAS
“Forced vaccination”

The shudder of my eyelids
the asymptomatic shapes
libation to the wind of change
heroes balancers in chaos
no rope, no possession, not worthy ones
The world goes ahead, you do not need it.
The world sinks into nonexistence
it does not need your eulogies
it can die alone
it dies because of loneliness anyway,
there is nothing more to be predicted.
The prophecies have been self-fulfilled
in a self-same world
unsuspecting for the fact that
it knows nothing else
than itself.
It has been severely extinct
He found the existence very hard
his life much harder
the pleasure despicable
and the joy a horrible infestation,
the pain unbearable
you must be cut all over
so you can become yourself too
the man-lie
and you forget it, you forget everything
because there is not enough space
for devices, instructions, hysteria,
wiring, pills, fashions,
bans, implants, screens,
so then you become foolish,
wake up, snow has covered you
the snow does not stop, wake up!
if you had felt what is happening to you
your tears alone would have saved you,
Oh my unique self
your skin is my last stronghold.
Wear explosives all over your body
and go out into the crowd which
rushes on you and pulls me to fall with it.
Do not touch me. Enough.
I'm a bomb ready to explode
in the smallest touch of your needle.
You did not leave me anything that's worth it
I can no longer continue to fake that I'm a snail.
The word is not what is missing, it's the voice.
God, are you listening to me? God, are you asleep?
Maybe if I make a loud sound you will hear me.
Even if new excellent worlds  arrive
I will not welcome them without myself.
There is no longer farther,
the time of arguments is passing
the time of hopes and alliances,
Everything is being stripped to the bone
and your cellular intelligence is springing.
You know now, you clearly see in what
consists your being
in your decision.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 

DESPOINA DELIGIANNIDOU
”Athina”*

Fortunately
Athina is a bustling city  

Fortunately                                                                                                     
Athina never sleeps

Had she slept she would see dreams
and those dreams should come true

But how could she dream
with tears in her eyes ?

You see Athina
an old hag of a city
wearily drags her crimpled  mules
on broken marbles


Proudly inspects her reflection
in burned down windows
trying to hide
her Anatolian origin
and the patches all over her wounded body

An old Diva Athina
Grins
to sing an Aria
Ends up dragging a bitter
Amaneh* love song, 
fading to a sob

And the pain in her voice counts
generations thousands
Aman* aman
Translator’s note:
*Athina is is the way the word Αthens is pronounced in Greek
**amaneh is along-drawn out oriental love song
*** “Aman!” meaning is “Oh God!” or “Gosh!”, “Damn!”, “Oh dear!”, “Uh!Oh!” , “Oh boy!” etc.
Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 

ΑΝΝΑ DRAKOPOULOU
"Giving Birth"

Head lowered,
my knees push the belly down,
In the eyes my waters have just broken
And I gave birth to the cry.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 

MARIA GOLIA
"Protest in a red notebook"

I cry out with three mouths
Give love
To the place of love
Like the moon in the sky
Like the grass on earth
Like feathers on birds
Like water at source
I drop blood on every page
for what I did not see
Save the planet!
Save the planet!
I yell
Oh Woman!
Play hopscotch for the first time as a little girl
Oh Man!
Kick the ball without antagonism
Let’s put our hand of peace on the cross
Both of us
Both of us
The conflict won't do any good
to none of us
We are the only hope
for what I did not see
Let the planet be saved
By both of us
By both of us

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
DESPINA KALPAKIDOU
«I love you»

Even if you left, if you were just a passerby,
you did not really went away,
you have not been buried in the reckless darkness
you haven't been washed by the river's waters
nor the wind lifted you and scattered you away
as a molecule of dust
as a rubbish to waste...

Even if you left, you still stay,
your body got lost, its warmth, its tangibility
the true touching went away,
the eyes which were full  of light and promises.
But here you are, I got you, I hold you tight
You won't be lost.
Your eyes are heavy on my body
although I will never touch
your body’s aura fairy tale.

Even if you are alive or not, what is it matter?
Now you are inside me
you are the spirit, my spirit,
a piece of me, soul from my soul.
You live and breath with me,
my little self, my deep love.

So, learn it! It is now that you have gone away,
that you’re mine even more!

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
EFTICHIA KAPARDELI
“Light”

Ιn the motionless  city  the white rose
  of love is forgotten
***
In the mud and soil
where the light diminishes
I sleep deeper and deeper
***
Angels wings encircle me
heavenly melodies with the "birth of light"
acquit me
***
With the soul I seal this rhyme
I hit the earth with my feet and wake her up
Under the warm sun, I take root here forever

Translation Eftichia Kapardeli
Editing Chryssa Velissariou
 
ANASTASIA KARAOGLANI
“Unspeakable miracle”

 Unspeakable miracle
how she both keeps virginity
-after so many relationships-
and also woundless and smiling she emerges
 from  the mystery of her katharsis
and rosy she appears smiling
in juicing breasts
for children feeding
and men`s jealous staring knifes.
Call it a miracle or not,
it's only her
as  day laughs and sighs fade away
and on her pillow memories do lean,
stitches  from centuries
pain - their milk-
 are begging for and hurt

Translation Anastasia Karaoglani
 
IOANNIS KARVELAS

I place this flower on the feet of women-mothers of war"
Our own child
"God'' 's willing
everything's allowing
and He created His world
wisely but a bit franticly,

I cannot bear this world
I cannot stand it
Our children and every other  kid on this Earth is ours

Later
the gods will come and  they will sign
instead of me...

Later
one could lose his mind
just by touching the frozen bodies of death
because of the evil.
Hope this evil never happen to you
A mother to bury her baby

Who, tell me, who
will bring to her
the bad news?
What "god"?
Even the demons fear her...

Later
she digs by herself a pit to be buried ...
She leaves her baby outside the grave, for You to see!
You say you are fair, don't you?

And then she says
"I won't throw my baby down there" !!!!

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
ANNA KEKEMPANOU
"Metamorphosis"

Loneliness is buzzing in the dark.
Even the wolf is afraid of the darkness.
Hey wolf, are you here?
I feel you close to me.
I feel your breath in my mouth
and my soul escapes from my body.
Hey wolf, are you here?
My heart is snowing and freezing.
Oh my wolf, it's getting darker and you're late.
I'm just afraid to confront one more night all alone.
I fought bravely with the wolves inside me.
I looked fear straight in the eyes.
But loneliness is buzzing in the dark.
So I screamed like a wolf in the night.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
ISMINI LIOSI
“that man”

that man who
is allowed to touch no woman
is looking beyond the woman
who comes in waving her lungs
having her hands on her waste

that man who
is allowed to touch no woman
is looking over the woman
who is standing in front of him
rising her dress

up above a cloudy sky
far away a dark sea
that man who
is allowed to touch no woman
is looking to his inside arches he sheds no tear

the cloud the water was finished, only
her thighs laugh like a sunny winter
and they walk out
to the road that leads to the forest – Come on, she tells him.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
CHRISSA MASTORODIMOU
"Iphigenia"

They killed you as if you were a lamb
Iphigenia
Why didn't you ever scream?

They offered you
as a gift to the God of vengeance
aiming to appease the winds
supposedly
but the true reason was that you
looked like no other woman.

They have been sacrificing you
every day ever since
and with new pretences
always according to the long
journey.

But your executioners
had no better luck
nor will they ever have.

They just touched earlier
the garment of death.

Their transcendence's journey
became a trip towards death

and the trophies of their victory
became futility's trophies.
Translation Chryssa Velissariou 

ANTONIS PAPADOPOULOS
“The mourning”

Now she mourns.
There were times she had cried bitterly. But it passed.
She often had felt her eyes moist,
when a naughty little child,
when a tender and weak girl,
when a woman who knew how to convince.
Her crying had washed her filth away,
but sometimes it made her get dirtier than before.
She was deceiving others through crying,
as well as she was repenting through it,
The dazzled landscape of her life
was laying behind her tears,
she was planting on her damp face
seeds of wheat and cannabis.
The tear was awakening in her eyes oceans’ storms,
but also the sweetness of the sea shore
which got early sleepy
and always got out her handkerchief
while waving goodbye to someone
and then she was holding it dampened
when alone in the evenings,
expecting the turbulence of the new day
and the new night of lullabies.
Now she mourns.
Wondering about the night
which is sliding out of the closed window,
with the furniture which is diffusing slowly in the dark,
with the craving still stirring inside her,
for everything and for nothing,
less and less for everything,
more and more for nothing.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
THEOCHARIS PAPADOPOULOS
“Without face”

I was without clothes
And you were without face.
You gave your body to me
As you gave it to everybody else.
When we were finished,
You took the money
And went away,
With no word out of your mouth.
After some days,
I saw your photo on the TV.
It was being said that you were dangerous,
Seropositive.
Then I noticed,
 that it was you
 without clothes
 and I with my hands
 I was looking to find
 my face.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
ΕVA PETROPOULOU LIANOY
“Female figure”

A female figure
Sat down
And embroidered by the open window,
Behind the purple linen curtain.

A female figure
was knitting
a sweater
for the winter’s nights.

A female figure
held the flag of the revolution
shouting for Freedom

A female figure
was singing a lullaby
for the eyes of a child who were going to sleep
that Saturday night !!

A female figure
fainted down covered with blood,
from the stones
of her fellow human beings
she had committed a crime
- she had fallen in love-

A female figure
painted her toenails red
and behind her tightly covered
body and head,
told all her friends
she had been tortured by her husband
the precedent night

A female figure
was sold as slave at the age of twelve
so that her poor family succeeds
to survive
 in a village in the Guangzhou district.

A female figure closed
the great book
with the title,
“Woman is silent”
and she fell deeply asleep right afterwards
on the deck of a wooden boat
which supposedly would lead her
in a land
full of opportunities....
Someone told her about it...
Translation Eva Petropoulou-Lianou /Editing Chryssa Velissariou

ALEXANDRA PAVLIDI
“Anima stamina”
pieces of chunks are gathered
which fall apart from you.
you do not have to put them back in the right place, you do know it ..
It makes no sense.
They will drop down again ...
Put them the way you can. One beside the other, or above, or below,
Improvise!
it does not matter that you will be a whole no more.
you will be imaginative,
you will be pioneering
you will be the warrior with the paper armor,
you will be the emperor Saga crouched on the floor
in the palaces of sorrow.
Put your muzzle down in the soil and in the mud,
Follow the dart of the new blood.
Godspeed!

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
NIKOLETA REPANI
"Oh Myself"

Oh Myself
There, on the edge of the cliff
watching your world falling apart
since you were a child you keep being grabbed
by a sunshine ray, by an edelweiss...
You rise your gaze to heaven
and you are lost in its endless blue,
you are fascinated by the nightingale that sings in the ravine.
Your soul becomes an eagle and travels to the universe
while your body is slowly transforming
into a tiny forget-me-not.
You are not afraid of everyday anymore,
you are not hurt by your problems,
you take the lightning in your hands and you beat down the injustice.
You got used to loneliness,
as you listen to the rushing waters of the waterfall next to you
you dream of how it would be if...
You could dive in the depths of love...
Romina 05/20/2017
Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
ELENI SETTA
“A crippled-blind life”
A crippled-blind dancing
On me that light's shining
A crippled-blind dancing
is so overwhelming.

So distant and unspeakable,
So logical and impeccable,
Elsewhere God is mercying.

Tambourine and zurna 're beating,
to the depths of my being,
That beat is dominating.

Crazy, ecstatic music
monotonous and rhythmic,
It turns me out of landing.

My feet loudly knocking,
Τo unknown tempo jumping,
My body's shaking...
My soul melts dripping.

I'm a joy's beggar,
Α rhythm of disaster,
Μy course engraving.

My madness accompanying,
Οne more change seeking,
What story of a loser!

For years lonely walking,
For a roof constantly looking,
Even if it's a loaner.

Aiming my shame to hide,
Searching my guilt to find,
Before the wash of raining.

My crippled-blind living,
Without proper breathing,
Without a Sun for sharing...
My only friend's the lie.

Although I'm a different person
The need which governs me, I mention,
It seems no God's ally.

My need defines my acts
My head is under its ax
No change until I die.
With the thought on the great Greek writer Andreas Karkavitsas and his novel  "The beggar" / Translation Chryssa Velissariou

KATERINA SKINTZI-XADULU
 “I wish to tell you...”
I wish to tell you...
about the tear-down  sullen simple women...
for these women who men threw up
like nothing after they had sucked them dry ...
I wish to tell you...
about the other women,              
the mild ones,
the gray haired ones,
the frank ones,
the simple women whose thought is
a high way to pleasure...
I wish to tell you...
about those women who grew up turning their backs
in the coveted ugliness of their parents as children...
I wish to tell you...
about those women who have studied
the denial of their lost opportunities...
I wish to tell you...
about those women who set up  a wonderful throne
for whoever they loved and then                          
after many years 
they demolished that throne with their one hands
and proudly surpassed that destruction... 
I wish to tell you...
about those women who gave birth to their life's star
beyond theories, ideas, acts and sins, as their last shine,
as a small revolution, 
as a suicide of their own ego...at least ...
Finally I wish to tell you...  
about us the simple women who gallop like wild horses
to board on communication's train...
I wish to tell you...
about us
the simple women who are old now and
we looked deep in our being
but we were not scared,
because we withstood to cut off even the tentacles of our love... 
I wish to tell you...
about us the both mistresses and friends
who you call at once simple ones
if we look for a moment bellow the thread
to the void of the emptiness... 
I wish to tell you...
about  all of us who mix and stretch or shrink words,
what unbelievable need we have             
for an inspirational room of ours,
or an immense moment of creation,
for a productive awakening of our soul...
for a corner of anguish in everyday boredom and 
during  our daily struggle?
I wish to tell you...
about  all of us who turn our back in self-reflective mirroring
and we look for the shelter of pleasures like babies
and then we fatally accept the wise silence of men
in front of death's feast.
I wish to tell you...
about all of us ...
both men and women from now on…
no name, no label,

no one’s superiority to exclude...

any figure,  any person,      
any soul,  any entity,
to be as it can be useful with
Humanism for the humanity...
All of us ...
 Simple women or not...

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
ACHILLEAS S.SPYROPOULOS
"Return"

The thoughts were transmuted passionately tonight
and are wandering overnight
in the unfortunate cobblestones of the Eros’s non-existence.
The memories became cracks
Immersed in a lustful immobility
They are trying hard and are pulsating until
they quench the cries of endless moments
which have been thrown in the deepest silence's sea.
The  source of the undisclosed path
is the unseen hope
which hidden for years was searching for a way out.
This hope gave the alienated fruit
Through cruel absences out of place
And was entombed
In the cinder of internal confrontations
Seeking to match bitter memories
In the dizziness of Eros’s rebellion.
So suddenly
This strange night
Expectations are raising
Wounds are closing
The cobblestone streets become clear roads
And they show the way to
Vast green pastures.
The pain became a cry.
And the cry a hope.
The miserable cravings
started a chord of unexpected roar
And lightning memories
play a blare
to temper the giddy gallop of love
engraving new paths
thoughts resurrected
in whole worlds
bright worlds
without thirst
without darkness
without death.
And then everything seem so beautiful
So shiny…

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
IOANNIS TOUMPAS
"In case I was ... "

In case I was Eros,
I would love people.
Every one of them.

Maybe I would love a bit more the cracked ones.

The ones who look for a hug,
So they do not break,
for some affection

or other way for suicide.

As also the ones whose Gods hated them
And the life's cliffs have chosen them.

I would love more the ones who believe
in the wind
So they definitely opened their wings.
And fell down.

In case  I was Death
I'd love the living ones.
Every one of them.

I would have
the ones who
God hated
like siblings though.

I would get down by them in the right moment
So that God see us together.

When the end comes, justice also comes for everything.

Even for the failures of the Gods.
Where were you God? Weren't you watching?
They're also Your kids.

Look at them ...
Look with how much  love
they come into my arms

Hey God!
Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU
“Woman howl”

When I think about the notion "woman"
I wish to stop writing poetry
Because I'm a woman no more
I'm an injured female wolf
I tried hard, I protected myself a lot
so me to continue being an archaic serene "Kore"
But the lustful pleasures of the senses
mutated me into a priestess betrayed by her gods
I bite and scream at night
I aim to talk about life
And in the end I delight to deal with ghosts
I hate him who once transformed me into a goddess
and then he threw me into hell
I hate my death
When I think about the notion "woman"
I give birth, I'm hungry and in pain at the same time
I wish so strongly
To stop screaming poetry
During my lycanthropical boundless fool moons

Translation Chryssa Velissariou
 
JULIE VENTOURA
«Medley»

Now that the gongs stopped
I will sing for you like
An echo on the wave of silence
Now that the light is chained on the corner
And flagellates the irons of the infinite
I will shine for you
I will be
A shield that breathes. In your body
A knife that engraves your mind
I will bring the universal waves of expectation to the anchor and I will start.
The trip

The cascade on the island beats the stones ruthlessly

The flags of the festival dances in the wind
which whistles
which turns around me
which becomes a shadow in the middle of the sea.
A colossus.
With hands. Barbarian limitless branches on the sleeping sand's flesh
How green were the leaves of the fern that you offered to me that afternoon
when you covered me
And you blinded me
And I died
And you resurrected me
And I never told you about it
You stole my breath
You deceived me with an irresistible fallacy !!!
Advocate of the conceivable line of
Despair
Like a garish garland in its garbage.
Of the loneliness in the bronze river that burns out of light
Like a rose-colored gem at the edge of the crown
Like a drunken jasmine. Which spreads into the yard and captivates our breaths
which are kidnapped looking for freedom
Bitter breaths which are sweetened by the night
Harmoniousness that becomes notes on the pentagram
a river of ink
The sun got sick and the moon is stretching out its hand
I'm lost, lost in your light
I reach the threshold of the sky
I whiten in the dark
I become a lake drunk by the sails of your sounds
I caress the tops of the grass spreading out of your breaths, ivy that embraces the lumen
leaving open scars,
omens,
 of unending soul
If I do not hold the yesterday's breaths
it's because I never breathed
If I do not hold jasmine
It's because I never cut off from it
Tonight I will wish
To see you again.

Translation Chryssa Velissariou