Responses to American Poetry

The aim of this online space is to host the research work of university students or young scholars as this emerges from larger projects focusing on the American poetry scene. The objective of this initiative is to bring this kind of research activity to the attention of the general public in an attempt to further promote the exchange of ideas with regard to the process of reading, understanding and appreciating poetry writing.

  

Tatiani Rapatzikou 
(Associate Professor, School of English, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Greece; Advisor and initiative co-ordinator trapatz@enl.auth.gr)

 

Stelios Kompogiannis

 

Rodini Alourgida

I’m a wound and a sword
A victim and an executioner
Don’t leave me
I won’t
Kick her out
For you

~

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s
the fairest of them all? She is.
Effulgent effigy, enviable visage
lustrous figure, coquette.
She has no manners, no respect,
Pride, nothing.
I was anxious you’d desert me
Never
Which one do you like better, me or her?
You. Always.

~

Immersed fingers in my skin
Flames seeping through me
Tongue, shredded to pieces
All of existence, silenced
I’M BURNING, I’M BURNING

~

A family photograph. Mother, child,
a shapeless figure looming large, without
a face. A row of naked bodies.
Roses sprouting from their loins.
Thick blood gushing over their thighs
Dressing their fleshly guises.
I’m the sword.

~

Δεν αντέχω άλλο.
Πνίγομαι.
Μπούχτισα-
Με τις ντάλιες, τα γαρύφαλλα, τις διανέλλες,
Τα βότανα, το κάρδαμο.
Θέλω ο άνεμος να διαλύσει,
Να σκορπίσει αυτούς τους ροδαλούς μίσχους,
Να ξεχαρβαλώσει τα’ αρωματισμένα άνθη τους,
Να τους πετάξει μαζί με τα νεκρά τους φύλλα.

~

Do I really yearn to be a woman?

~

I see your face across mine
But I cannot recognise you
Where are you?
I’m fogbound
You, so near yet so far
The waning moon, luminous, adorns you
Superficies, as of glass
Where are you?

~

I’m scared
Everything is dim
The road to sanctity is narrow
Outlines becoming harder to discern
Forget about Father, you have me
Contorted faces, swollen
Gaze of odium and disdain
The sword is the wound

~

Return of a Father

~

Of a lover afloat the crimson river of Cocytus
Lithe corpus, selenite eyes
The faceless figure in the photograph
I want everyone to sink in oblivion,
Mired out of existence, EVERYONE
My eyeballs are incinerated, burst out of their sockets
No more light for me
In ceaseless darkness I belong.

~

Να έδιωχνα από την μνήμη μου
Τούτο τον τόπο, να βρω μιαν άλλη ομορφιά
Σ’ ένα φριχτό,
Ανεμοδαρμένο μέρος.

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