Dimitris P. Kraniotis (Greece) – President WPS

Dimitris P. Kraniotis (Greece)
President WPS
 
Dimitris P. Kraniotis is an award-winning Greek poet. He was born in 1966 in Stomio (Larissa) in central Greece. He studied Medicine at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. He lives in Larissa (Greece) and works as a medical doctor (internal medicine specialist physician).
He is the author of 9 poetry books in 6 languages: “Traces” (in Greek, 1985), “Clay Faces” (in Greek, 1992), “Fictitious Line” (in Greek, English & French, 2005), “Dunes” (in French and Romanian 2007), “Endogram” (in Greek, ed. Malliaris Paedia, 2010), “Edda” (in French & Romanian 2010) , “Illusions”(in Albanian, 2010), “Leaves Vowels” (in Italian, Pluriversum Edizioni 2017) and “Tie of Public Decency” (in Greek, ed. Kedros 2018). Also he is the editor-in-chief of the international anthology in english “World Poetry 2011” (205 poets from 65 countries). He has won many international awards for his poetry which has been translated in 25 languages and published in many countries around the World. He was invited and he has participated in several International Poetry Festivals. He is Academician of Academy Tiberina of Rome and International Academy of Micenei (Italy), Doctor of Literature (Litt.D.), elected President of 22nd World Congress of Poets (Greece 2011) by United Poets Laureate International, President of World Poets Society (W.P.S), Director of Mediterranean Poetry Festival (Larissa, Greece), Ambassador to Greece of “Poetas del Mundo” (Chile), Editor of the poetry magazine “Poetics @ GR”, former Professor of Department of Nursing in University of Applied Sciences of Thessaly and member of several literary organizations (National Society of Greek Literary Writers, Hellenic Literary Society, Greek PEN, World Poetry Movement, etc).
 
His official website: http://www.dimitriskraniotis.com/
 
 
Our heart’s visitors
 
A stranger’s talk
with a stony garment,
threateningly hovers
in our every step,
cold drops of courtesy
burn our breath.
 
Did hope ceased
to visit our heart?
 
The snow today
isn’t white.
It is colourless
like the iris of our eyes,
like good morning
which doesn’t come out of our lips.
 
Did love ceased
to visit our heart?
 
A torn poster
in the whirl of the wind
our every word,
blue pebbles
sunk in the blue of the sea
our dreams.
 
Did poetry ceased
to visit our heart?
 
 
 
Stolen receivers
 
Engraved rocks
with pictures
of intense feelings,
naked wood-frames
with paintings
of faceless garments,
delusions in succession
of inactive volcanoes,
fields under extinction
of childhood
furious wounds
in set-up trials
and we, command-givers,
stolen ideas receivers.
 
 
 
Ode to the peace hero
 
You were born once
for a thousand revolutions.
You died once
with a thousand resurrections.
You enlightened eternal ideals
into chests full of dreams.
You blew poets’ words
into harmonious winds.
You got hurt by faceless wounds,
slapped injustices,
you fought for Freedom,
and won for Peace.

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