Dimitris P. Kraniotis is an award-winning Greek poet. He was born in 15 July 1966 in Stomio (Larissa), a coastal town in central Greece. He studied at the Medical School of the Aristotle University in Thessaloniki. He lives and works as a medical doctor (physician) Internal Medicine Specialist in Larissa, Greece.
He is the author of 4 poetry books: “Traces” (poems in Greek, Greece 1985), “Clay Faces” (poems in Greek, Greece, 1992), “Fictitious Line” (poems in Greek and translated into English and French, Greece 2005) & “Dunes” (poems translated into French and Romanian, Bucharest, Romania 2007).
He is elected President of 22nd World Congress of Poets (Greece 2011) by United Poets Laureate International, Founder & President of World Poets Society (W.P.S.), Academician of Academy Tiberina of Rome, Academician of International Academy of Micenei (Italy), Doctor of Literature (Litt. D.) by World Academy of Arts and Culture, Vice-President of Larissa Union of Poets and Writers, Vice-President of Larissa Medical Association “Hippocrates”, Special Secretary of Thessaly Association of Letters and Arts, Ambassador to Greece of Poetas del Mundo (Chile), Editorial Director of the Greek medical magazine “Hippocrates”, Member of the Board of Directors of Cultural Organization of Larissa Prefecture and Member of the Editorial Board of the Greek literary magazines “Graphi” and “Pnevmatiki Larissa”. He is member of National Society of Greek Literary Writers, Hellenic Literary Society, Greek PEN, Hellenic Society of Writing Physicians, International Society of Greek Writers and important international organizations.
He has won a number of international awards for his poetry which has been published in many countries around the World. His poems have been translated into English, French, Arabic, Romanian, Bulgarian, Serbian, Albanian, Dutch, Czech, Chinese, Turkish, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Bengali, etc. Central theme in his poetry is contemporary man, his impasse, his worries, his fears, his hopes and dreams.
Please visit Dimitris Kraniotis website www.dimitriskraniotis.com where there is much more to discover!
Poems from the poetry book “Fictitious Line“:
Fictitious line
Smokes
of cigarettes
and mugs
full of coffee,
next
to the fictitious line
where the eddy
of words
leans against
and nods,
wounded,
to my silence.
Ideals
Snow-covered mountains,
ancient monuments,
a north wind that nods to us,
a thought that flows,
images imbued
with hymns of history,
words on signs
with ideals of geometry.
Illusions
Noiseless wrinkles
on our forehead
the frontiers of history,
shed oblique glances
at Homer’s verses.
Illusions
full of guilt
redeem
wounded whispers
that became echoes
in lighted caves
of the fools and the innocent.
The end
The savour of fruits
still remains
in my mouth,
but the bitterness of words
demolishes the clouds
and wrings the snow
counting the pebbles.
But you never told me
why you deceived me,
why with pain
and injustice did you desire
to say that the end
always in tears
is cast to flames.
Rules and visions
Life counts
the rules;
the sunset, their exceptions.
Rain drinks up
the centuries;
spring, our dreams.
The eagle sees
the sunrays
and youth, the visions.
Denials
A roar of cars
seals the dawn
with short-cut answers,
with unyielding denials
that are repeated
explicitly
every sunset.
One-word garments
Waves of circumflexes,
storms of adverbs,
windmills of verbs,
shells of signs of ellipsis,
on the island of poems
of soul,
of mind,
of thought,
one-word garments
you wear
to endure!
Maybe
The cloud struggled
against the sand
underneath the rain
of “no” and “yes”,
forcefully treading
on the rationale
that obeys
the impasse of ” maybe”.
What I ask
A ball of threads
my prayers
whisper
frightened.
Foolish “I”s
are choked
without you ever
knowing
what I ask.
The “don’ts” and “zeros”
The night
that strangled
the endless moments
I had wished
to live,
passed by
without my lighting up
the candle
I had longed
to warm up
all the “don’ts” and “zeros”.
Ashes
The fireplace
was eager
to put a fullstop,
in the sentence
where the road
of my dreams
stuck
upon the word of happiness
with sparkles
of wet logs
I collected
from the inside of me
that I dared
to turn to ashes.
Limits
Fragments of glasses
in the empty room
of the inarticulate whispers,
bleed
our limits,
fill
with sores
the caress of our soul.
Poems from the poetry book “Clay Faces“:
To the dead poet of obscurity
(In honor of the dead unpublished poet)
Well done!
You have won!
You should not feel sorry.
Your unpublished poems
-always remember-
have not been buried,
haven’t bent
under the strength of time.
Like gold
inside the soil
they remain,
they never melt.
They may be late
but they will be given
to their people
someday,
to offer their sweet,
eternal essence.
Victory
Short
is the life of victory.
Stuck
on the mud of the mistakes,
on the mud of the tarmac.
Poem from the poetry book “Traces“:
To you I speak
To you I speak,
do not show indifference.
This moment
to me
is mighty.
I am happy.
These words I uttered
and all were sad.
They left,
heads down.
Poetry in this post: © Dimitris Kraniotis
Published with the permission of Dimitris Kraniotis