by Borce Panov
Red and white granes
While
I was juggling
with my red grains
In condition
full of panic
You came juggling
with jour
white grains
And while this
passionate game
was going on
We mixsed up
the granes
All of a suden
You said to me
to take care
You must not
los any grains
Because you
need them all
The white ones
for living
The red ones
for loving me
Poetry
This mirror
is
the smoothest
shaved chek
on which
the beard
isn't growing
any more
Be carful
it can make you
sad
when
you stand
in front
of it
/ biography/
He was born in Radovis and graduated Macedonian language and literature at the Faculty of filology in Skopje, in 1986.
A member of the Macedonian Writers’ Association since 1998 and a member of the association’s Presidency since 2008. He writes poetry, plays and essays and until now has published these books :
-“ What did Charlie C see opposite “ , in 1991, an edition of “ ALFA” , awarded as the best book at the anonymous contest of the Macedonian Literature Youth.
The same year, this book was also awarded as the best debut , that was published in the period between the previous Struga Poetry Evenings and the next one , winning the award “ Studentski zbor” / Student’s word /.
His poetry book “ Cyclone eye” was edited in 1995 by the publishing house “ Fenix” in Skopje.
His poetry book “ Stop Charlie” was published in 2002 , in the edition
“ Karamanov” of the Culture Centre “ Aco Karamanov” from Radovis.
The next poetry book “ The beat “ was published in 2006 in the publishing house “ Dialoque” from Skopje. This book was contesting for the prestigious award “Aco Sopov” in 2006.
The publiser “Gurga” edited his “ Glass riddle” , also a poetry book in 2008.
At the moment he is working on his last book called “ Chaving a baloon”.
Borce Panov is also an author of the following plays:
- “ The fifth calendar time “
- “ The double of the town”
- “At the middle of the street, a dead end “
- “ Homo Sapunens”
- “ Catch the sleep walker”
- “ Devided by his own nose”
- “Summer cinema” .
Borce Panov is empoyed as senior administrator for educational and cultural matters in the Municipality of Radovis , and he is also an artistic coordinator for the International Poetry Event known as “Karamanovs’ Meetings” , that have been held for 45 years in Radovis in honor of the poet and hero Aco Karamanov.
The Angel’s Quill
All night I am chasing one square of light
In which I am traveling like persistently fleeing dream
Into compartment in front of checker’s nightfall
While morning is arranging my crystals of sparking
With scaling down Sun in fine glittering words
And returning me at the beginning of traveling
With all of that which leads into uneasiness
Like I was never born
Like I died in some time before than it was my time
To return into this moment
And I am stranger again to what I dreamt of
Without my lived-in past
In the kaleidoscope of this present moment
Which is shifting darkness between crystals
Opening in front of me and closing behind you
While postponing my awakening
And again I am following the square of light
And God is gloomy at the end of Heaven
Like amoeba- star which gathers mind
Thousands of years from the beginning of dreaming
And I know
In handkerchief of wind he is returning ashes back to me again
That I have to sorrow like a cry at birth
And that I have to remember an angel
Which left me like an orphan in the threshold of life
In beehive full of flickering words
And with one little feather pulled out from the wing at farewell
With only one word I am writing my soul once again
Migrant Soul
The same as that
Czar's captive
Sentenced
To thirst and to hunger
Rare
Suckles only
Breast milk
Of young woman
who no longer
breastfeed her infant
And Secretly
Fed by jailers
With one word only
To hang
In life
With a word
To pull
One moment
With a moment a day
And night
From tomorrow and over tomorrow
A whole time
All the time
A moment
Just one
That moment
Only to you
To go west
To pop
Until you return
And begin to talk
The thousand and one words
With your
And with my body
My migrant soul
Thorny Glagolitic Chant
Love death truly
Because she
has her desires too
Like an arrow
Traveling at day
And hitting
At night
Suddenly
You wrote this to me
And like a thunderbolt enlightened
My mind that night
When you said
That some time ago
I spit into snake's
mouth too
Because of the dark brushwood
In me chanted in glagolitic with a thorns
I accepted to my self
Then one more time
That
On the tightened nerve
I was pacing very often
Between life
And death
And my days without love
I wanted
To be shorter
For forgiveness I asked you
And for
Not to ask of me
To love her
Whose
Only wish is
To ask of us
To leave too early
From this life
Without love.
Letter Of Fortune
A long ago
I'm patiently lurking
the shadows
At the end, I'm closing them
in white envelopes
always again
asking myself
is this
writing poetry too
One day I
received a letter
which said that
I was fortunate to be chosen
and that I will,
If I don't disrupt circle,
experience great happiness
Then
I remembered again
that each day
I'm opening letters
and persistently reading
their whiteness
That's why I please,
Do not interrupt circle
when you'll get
this letter
with no address
*
What did Charlie C. saw from the upside down?
There comes Charlie winded like a toy
-Idiot, he is whispering to me
and turns sharply down,
hanged onto his long foot to the wire,
he leaks my blood thru wire from the nerve fiber
fast
with his thumbs he lift up,one by one, the tails of his little
tailcoat
becomes a dot between the dots ...
What did Charlie C. saw from the upside down ?
We ate fish - he was carefully sucked the bones
of the shoe
I sucked the tacks of the sheat-fish
what remained we throw into the garbage cans
that hop from the orgasm-m-m-m-m-m of the cats
-Faster, Charlie,faster
a volcano is turns into typhoon
(you do not see it)
You dancing
yours foot is stuck with the chewing gum on the floor,
now it is clear that he is a giant from a half upward
and he shoot aaah, he shoot us from a distance!
Faster Charlie, move away, tear off!
What?!
You're in love. Terrible! You're in love Charlie
the head of your soul is outside of the skull
A black rock, a sad one
now floating inside my head Charlie
Typewriter types my heart
a sheet is hopelessly white, although power failure ...
Although power failure I know that deep through the whiteness
I feel
My blood is close to the other side and it's time to wake up,
although I do not know where ...
You ... you might have laughed from the upside down Charlie?
*
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