Thursday, March 3, 2011

Julijana Velickovska-Dimoska

Butterfly

I drew a butterfly
on my right thigh
using blue ink
a bit darker
than the sky.

[in my daddy's shoes]


I had a dream

                                                  I wanted
                                                  Meter and seventy
                                                  Black heels
                                                  And a Bug
                                                  Blue
                                                  Metallic
                                                  Cabrio
                                                  White legs
                                                  Long hair
                                                  And big tits
                                                  like Monica Belluci
                                                  blue dress with white dots….
                                                  In front of the steering wheel
                                                  A white rose
                                                  And red light
                                                  On the traffic-lights…

                                                  I have no Bug
                                                  no white rose
                                                  nor a dress
                                                  not even blue…
                                                  just some white dots
                                                  into my eyes…

[fairy]







Open book

                                                 You’re an open book,
                                                 He said,
                                                 You’re a cactus shaped in a heart,
                                                 You’re a cat
                                                 Alone and wet from the October rains…
                                                 You’re a book,
                                                 He said,
                                                 Beautiful, special book,
                                                 Which I read only when it rains,
                                                 while listening to jazz …
                                                 You’re a book,
                                                 That I love to read,
                                                 That I choose to read
                                                 For holydays
                                                 For special occasions,
                                                 You’re a book
                                                 standing on my FB Books - Tab
                                                 You’re an illustrated book
                                                 Illustrated book of poetry,
                                                 You’re a wet book,
                                                 Dowsed by the October rains
                                                 And frosted
                                                 at dawn…
                                                 You’re a crumpled, lone, sad special book
                                                 Standing by yourself on the bookshelf
                                                 I bought it just for you,
                                                 He said,
                                                 I bought the shelf in London.
                                                 You’re a book
                                                 For special occasions
                                                 I read you when I like to treat myself
                                                 But you won’t leave me alone…
                                                 You have that scent…
                                                 That smell of rotting flower
                                                 Wet paper…
                                                 You call me,
                                                 You want me to read you on a regular day?!
                                                 I took you from the shelf
                                                 And you were soaked
                                                 But there was no rain today?!
                                                 My dear, salty lonesome book
                                                 I’ll open you
                                                 tomorrow…
                                                 I’ll read you
                                                 the day after tomorrow…
                                                 I’ll read you
                                                 in two
                                                 or three days…
                                                 And then, my book…
                                                 I’ll just return you
                                                 at the library…


* When u start with poetry?
- what were the first things that inspire you to write? -what started your journey in the arts and poetry ?

I started writing when I was about 11, 12 years old. It’s the age when you start thinking about who you are, what is the meaning of life and things like that and some thoughts and feelings were born and were wondering in my head till I wrote them down.
I get inspired by many things, the world and people around me, my inner world, my emotions and thoughts of life.
The biggest influence that I had back then, was the rock music.
My love towards drawing dough, was born at early age, since I could hold a pencil by myself!


*Do you think that the poetry is strong weapon in the hands of person who know how to use it to bring his message between the people?

Well I do think that poetry can be a very useful and powerful media so one can bring his message between the people, but I don’t like the expression weapon, because weapon is destructive and I’m a constructive person, so I like to think that my poetry can touch other people and it can lead to other creative ideas and actions, to build a better world.

*You are published poet, who have his first book. how's the feeling/ does it helps in the future promoting of your poetry?
- on which languages till now ur poetry is translated on?

The fact that I am a published poet helps a lot. When you are published people approach you more seriously and read your work more carefully, they don’t take you for granted. And that is sad I think, because there are a lot of good writers out there that didn’t had the opportunity to be published and the world doesn’t even know about their work and the big loss in the world of culture because of that. It is hard to do art and be appreciated, it is now and it always was.
But when you are a published writer it is like you’ve crossed an initiation rite and as a reward you get the feedback from your readers and share your poems and thoughts and feelings with them, and that is just wonderful, pure love.
My poetry so far has been translated in to English, Chinese, Dutch and Serbian and soon it will be published in a literary magazine in Spanish.



...besides writing poetry, u draw illustrations that actually took part of your book and were the graphic solution/ design for. .. which came first - the art or the poetry?

Well in my life first came the drawing and then years after the writing. The drawings I used as illustrations in my poetry book “Mosquitoes” occurred in parallel in the same period of time and they are not directly connected to the poems, but they do have the same messages and ideas as the poems in my book so I decided to wrap them up together and complete the story.


@kihuPotru

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