Публикувано от: bogpan | септември 11, 2019

… the story of my life . . . and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

Magic collection!


FromMother’s Day: Flowers and Native American soapstone bear

My Life Is Not Mine—
Give wanting what other people have.
That way you’re safe.
“Where, where can I be safe?” you ask.
This is not a day for asking questions,
Not a day on any calendar.
This day is conscious of itself.
This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness,
More manifest than saying can say.
Thoughts take form with words,
But this daylight is beyond and before
Thinking and imagining.

Excerpt from The Essential Rumi, Colman Barks

Well, it’s rather late Tuesday here, but still Tuesday, and apologies for the delay in publishing this post and for some of the confusions in correspondence with poets. The past week has been complicated by low oxygen saturation and if you understand oxygen hunger, you know it’s disorienting and exhausting. Thanks for understanding and patience.

We have a profoundly moving collection today…

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Публикувано от: bogpan | септември 9, 2019

The Man Who Collects

Thank you SpillWords Editorial Team!

The Man Who Collects

A great taste for Flavio’s poetry!


For Iris

Flowers for you
with a flower’s name;
Heart knows it
Heart tells you
everything you need to know
to live.
You paid for every breathe
but you seemed to be good, yet.
I hope it has been
‘cause you loved stayin’ where
we are still.

(Fiori per te
che colsi di nome da un fiore;
in petto si sa,
il cuore t’insegna
tutto ciò di cui necessiti
per vivere.
Caro t’è costato ogni caro respiro
ma ancor non davi a vederne costo.
Il cuor mi suggerisce
creder ché tu amasti il luogo
dove noi ancor stiamo.)

di nerodavideazzurro (trad. dell’autore), qui:


La nebbia al lago

Al levare del sole,
felice corri in
riva al lago
tra la nebbia
della radura
e come ovattata
da ombre e fasci di luce
tu Ginevra
sogni spuntare dalla natura
quel cavaliere errante
che ti porti in sella
come un amante.

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Публикувано от: bogpan | септември 2, 2019

Списание „Нова асоциална поезия“, бр. 22, септември, 2019

Божидар Пангелов – Август

Публикувано от: bogpan | август 30, 2019


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„as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.“


House-museum of Cavafy, Alexandria courtesy of Roland Unger under CC BY-SA 3.0

“In these dark rooms I pass
such listless days, I wander up and down
looking for the windows – when a window opens
there will be some relief.
But there are no windows, or at least
I cannot find them. And perhaps it’s just as well.
Perhaps the light would prove another torment.
Who knows what new things it would reveal?
C.P. Cavafy, Windows  

When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – do not fear them:
such as these you will never find
as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – you will not meet them
unless you carry them…

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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 15, 2019

***(I hear)

I feel the person by me –
like an ocean.
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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 14, 2019

Read Poetry: A Letter, by божидар ПАНГЕЛОВ

Thanks to the editorial team of the Poetry Festival!

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

I’m writing a letter to you.
It’s in a maze. Like me.
Surely you’ve seen the Perseids.
Above the sea.
It’s the same with the words,
which I’m writing or have written.
I don’t remember.
And they are always another.
Not those ones which I’d like to say.
Or I’ve said?
I don’t remember.
I’ve abandoned the thought
like a traveler who is walking
to a harbor.
The ships depart there.
Further and further.
Further …
May I see you,
how you’re walking along the little cobble
which I haven’t passed in,
to meet you and to tell you
the love is one.
I don’t remember if I said this to you.
In fact, I don’t know if it’s where
one should pass through to somewhere.
I don’t know if you’ve seen
The Perseids and the sea.
I don’t remember.
If I write anything else
but one –

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Wonderful inspiration and a colorful poetry collection!


“I’d love to wake up to complete silence, white sheets, and the smell of crisp air and roses.” Maria Elena,Eternal Youth

And it being Tuesday, here are the responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, Awakening, August 7. Today our poets explore the ins, outs, pleasures and occasional weirdness of one of the most pivotal points of the day.

Brown-eared Bulbul shared under CC BY-SA 2.0 license

This collection is courtesy of bogpan (Bozhidar Pangelov), mm brazfield, Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brookes, Anjum Wasim Dar, Irma Do, Sheila Jacobs, Sonja Benskin Mesher, Tamam Tracy Moncur, Pali Raj, and Clarissa Simmens.

Today we also warmly welcome Urmila Mahajan in her first appearance on this site. Urmila mentions a bulbul bird in her poem.  I’d never heard of it. I had to look it up. The bulbul – pretty bird – doesn’t live in the Americas or in Europe.

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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 10, 2019

Marry Me

Thank you SpillWords Editorial Team!

Marry Me

Thank you, my dear friend!



Ho cura

Ho cura delle mie mani
perché toccano

dei miei piedi
perché mi portano

dei miei occhi
che osservano

delle mie orecchie
che ascoltano

della mia mente
che immagina

del mio cuore
che batte.

Perché la vita
si dispiega
e da me si sprigiona
e a me ritorna.

di Biagina Danieli, qui:



Nessuna idea
sul tempo che mancava
alla fine dell’estate.
Godevo di quei giorni
verdi e d’oro
e del sonno nel silenzio
della notte montana.
Ero bambina,
erano le vacanze.
Ah, cosa darei
per quella sospensione
così simile all’eterno
adesso che son grande!

di Silvia cavalieri, qui:



Maria Maddalena: un sonetto (traduzione libera)

Gli uomini ti hanno detta meretrice
per caricarti e caricarti del loro stesso di peccato,
donna costretta a coprire e contenere
quei sette diavoli inviati da OgniUomo.
Ma un uomo ti…

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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 8, 2019

Undici giugno 1970(Единадесети юни 1970г) от Flavio Almerighi

Скъпи читатели,стихотворението „Единадесети юни 1970г“ е написано от чудесния италиански поет Flavio Almerighi. Същото е включено в стихосбирката „durante il dopocristo“( по време на постхристиянина)2008г. За повече може да посетите неговия блог тук

Undici giugno 1970

questo giorno che cade
me ne rammenta un altro
piccola super bravissima,
oggi a ricordare con nostalgia
la stessa scuola, il cortile
le maestre dell’ultimo sabato,
recinzione prive di punte
e dello stesso verde.

Scrivimi un’altra poesia,
sappia essere pane,
viole in acqua pulita
ammorbidenti l’anima.
Sono come a Rodi,
reggo un lume per leggerti
l’Oca delle Nevi,
per educarmi ad educare.

Tu vai, tranquilla
non mi muovo,
aspetto qui.

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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 8, 2019


I look at the roots
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Публикувано от: bogpan | август 6, 2019

Bozhidar Pangelov ,A Refined Bulgarian Poet .

via Bozhidar Pangelov ,A Refined Bulgarian Poet .

Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 22, 2019

La vita è bella

I thank miombopublishing editor Mbizo Chirasha for this wonderful announcement.
„Meet one of Bulgaria finest poet soon to be featured in TIME OF THE POET PROFILES:
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 21, 2019

sull’amore finito (on love gone wrong) by Flavio Almerighi

sull’amore finito (on love gone wrong) by Flavio Almerighi #poem #guest post

Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 16, 2019

translation into Greek/превод на гръцки език

A great thanks to Zacharoula Gaitanaki for the translation and presentation of the Greek language.


Ο Bozhidar Pangelov γεννήθηκε στη Σόφια της Βουλγαρίας, το 1959 και είναι σύγχρονος Βούλγαρος ποιητής. Το ψευδώνυμό του „Βogpan“ („Θεός Πάνας“) προέρχεται από την ελληνική μυθολογία. Άρχισε να γράφει ποίηση σε ηλικία δεκαέξι ετών και δημοσίευσε τα πρώτα του έργα το 2002. Το πρώτο βιβλίο του «ΤΕΣΣΕΡΙΣ ΚΥΚΛΟΙ» (2005) που γράφτηκε σε συνεργασία με τη Βάνια Κωνσταντινόβα, βασίστηκε στα μοτίβα από τους ελληνικούς θρύλους και μύθους. Τα επόμενα βιβλία του ήταν το «ΔΕΛΤΑ» (2005), «ΤΟ ΚΟΡΙΤΣΙ ΠΟΥ…» (2008) και «Ο ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣ ΠΟΥ…» (2013). Το δίγλωσσο βιβλίο του (στα βουλγαρικά και τα αγγλικά) «ΕΝΑ ΦΤΕΡΟ ΤΟΥ ΦΟΥΓΙΑΜΑ» (2014) κυκλοφόρησε από το Hammer & Anvil Books στο Amazon.com ως έκδοση Kindle. Τα ποιήματά του έχουν μεταφραστεί στα ιταλικά, γερμανικά, πολωνικά, ρωσικά, κινέζικα, ελληνικά, αγγλικά και τουρκικά και δημοσιεύονται σε χώρους ποίησης, σε ανθολογίες και λογοτεχνικά περιοδικά σε όλο τον κόσμο. Αυτός με τη σειρά του μεταφράζει ποίηση από τη ρωσική στη βουλγαρική. Συμμετείχε στο γερμανικό πρόγραμμα: „Η Ευρώπη … παίρνει» (Europa ein Gedicht. Castrop Rauxel ein Gedicht, Ruhr 2010) και στην «Άνοιξη Βροχή ποίησης» (Κύπρος, 2012). Τώρα ζει και εργάζεται στην Σόφια.

Bozhidar Pangelov: On the Sand They Remain –––-


Στην άμμο παραμένουν –
τα βήματα των πουλιών.
Η θάλασσα μουρμουρίζει
πριν το νυχτερινό φεγγάρι
Τη ζωή που μας έχει αφήσει
για την άμμο.
Και πόσο εκλεπτυσμένα
διάσπαρτο είναι
το χαλίκι.
Δεν μπορείς
να το μαζέψεις
στην κοιλότητα ενός χεριού.
Στην άμμο παραμένουν –
τα ίχνη των πουλιών.


[ Απόδοση στα ελληνικά από τη Ζαχαρούλα Γαϊτανάκη, 16/7/2019. ]

Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 15, 2019

And so the life is Emile*

The old lady has a round bonnet
(in flowers) and the nicest smile.
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 10, 2019

under the ground

girl’s fingers
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 8, 2019

mourning brooch, a poem


“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” William Shakespeare, Macbeth

the memories have little substance
they flit and fly, pollen on the wind,
like the quick passing of a joyful birth,
the school years, the sweet trysts ~
a waving bridal veil . . .

. . . the way your love drained you of your dreams
just to fill yourself with him

. . . . . the epitaph of tears

only when yesterday becomes a story,
once upon a time, do memories
become memorial, a mourning brooch
forever warm upon your breast

© 2013, Jamie Dedes


Recent in digital publications: 
* Four poemsI Am Not a Silent Poet
* Remembering Mom, HerStry
* Three poems, Levure littéraire
Upcoming in digital publications:
* Over His Morning Coffee, Front Porch Review (July 2019)
* From…

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Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 4, 2019

“ Езикът, на който умирам“-Васил Прасков

Имам честта и удоволствието да съм редактор на най-новата книга на „лошото момче в българската литература“ – Васил Прасков! Желая успех на книгата с поезия “ Езикът, на който умирам“ и на автора!
Корица – Лилия Пангелова

I have the honor and the pleasure to be the editor of the latest book of the „Bad Boy in Bulgarian Literature“ – Vasil Praskov! I wish success to the poetry book „The language on which I’m dying“ and the author!
Cover – Lilya Pangelova66012801_10218096903270043_5025413152829865984_n-1

Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 3, 2019

I am/Аз съм

I am
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юни 30, 2019

Saha Marana

I am happy with the publication in two languages ​​(Bulgarian and English) of my poem in „INDIAN PERIODICAL“.
Thanks to editor Siddharth Sehgal!
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юни 30, 2019


memory of man
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Публикувано от: bogpan | юни 26, 2019

„Nothing Remembers“, Michael Dickel / Review, Interview, Poems

via „Nothing Remembers“, Michael Dickel / Review, Interview, Poems

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