Magazin za kulturu, umjetnost, nauku i obrazovanje 
Magazine for culture, art, science and education
.
  • DIOGEN plus
    • Ekrem Ajruli
    • Susan Bright
    • Jadranka Tarle Bojović
    • Senad Kurić
    • Samira Begman Karabeg
    • Tanja Zubčević Alečković
    • Ljiljana Crnic
    • Dalila Krasnić
    • Nena Miljanović
    • Ali F. Bilir
    • Mirza Okic
    • Elfrida Matuč Mahulja
    • Boris Kvaternik
    • Sonja Juric
    • Ljubica V. Davcik
    • Aleksandra Jovanović
    • Dr.Ram Sharma
    • Nura Bazdulj Hubijar
    • Belmin Biberović
    • Radmila Vukadin
    • Vinko Drača
    • Majo Danilovic
    • Berislav Blagojević
    • Soheil Najm
    • Aron Baretić
    • Jennifer Greene
    • Shaip Emerllahu
    • Thór Stefánsson
    • Giuseppe Napolitano
    • Amir Or
    • Alisa Velaj
    • Nina Malinovski
    • Roman Kissiov
    • Goran Simic
    • Luis Arias Manzo
    • Bojana Stojanovic Pantovic
    • Allabhya Ghosh
    • Chris Lawrence
    • Ilir Muharremi
    • Gordana Vlajic
    • Daniel Jakopovich
    • Jahanera Noor
    • Jidi Majia
    • Nenad Tanovic
    • Fehim Kajevic
  • Authors /Autori DIOGEN pro culture magazine 2009-2018
    • Bardhyl Maliqi
    • Dr. Adolf P. Shvedchikov
    • Jelena Bogdanovic
    • Christiana Dobreva Stankova
    • Marianne Larsen
    • Milena Vukoje Stamenkovic
    • Tomas O Carthaigh
    • William Bilkic
    • Darko Perovic
    • Djuro Maricic
    • Neal Whitman
    • Sebastien Doubinsky
    • Mirjana Grbac Pismestrovic
    • Jadranka Ivanovic Bolog
    • Jagoda Ilicic
    • Ilija Lakusic
    • Fabijan Lovric
    • Petar Pismestrovic
    • Willy et Emily Marceau
    • Dragan Jankovic
    • Zlatko Martinko
    • Irena Gjoni
    • Zdravka Sheyretova
    • Ljiljana Milosavljevic
    • Zora Jovanovic
    • Aida Zaciragic
    • Zeljko Krznaric
    • Lidija Pudjak
    • Jadranka Cavic
    • Dalila Hiaoui
    • Franjo Francic
    • Lindemberg Pereira da Silva
    • Vasia Bakogianni
    • Violeta Milovanovic
    • Michael (Dickel) Dekel
    • Katlin Kaldmaa
    • Igor Braca Damnjanovic DIB
    • Khurshid Alam
    • Mbizo Chirasha
    • Lauri Pilter
    • Tamara Lucic Dinic
    • Petar Lazic
    • Mirjana Miljkovic
    • Anesa Kazic
    • Filip Dimkoski
    • Dariusz Pacak
    • Nebojsa Milosavljevic
    • Maja M. Siprak Brletic
    • Mirko Popovic
    • Milenko Cirovic
    • Zeljko Krstic
    • Milunika Mitrovic
  • CONTACT
    • Adem Abdulahu
    • Eva Lipska
    • Mehmed Đedović
    • Duška Vrhovac
    • Mexhid Mehmeti
    • Burhanedin Xhemaili
    • Naime Beqiraj
    • Sabahudin Hadžialić
    • Athanase Vantchev de Thracy
    • Veselin Dželetović
    • Eugeniusz Kasjanowicz
    • Peko Laličić
    • Carl Scharwath
    • Darko Habazin DAKS
    • Lidija Pavlović Grgić
    • Patrick Sammut
    • Mirko S. Božić
    • Marina Kljajo - Radic
    • Gustavo Vega
    • Fahredin Shehu
    • Radomir Micunovic
    • Valerio Orlic
    • Barbara Bracun
    • Dusko Domanovic
    • Ante Matic
    • Mirjana Bulatovic
    • Ivan Rajovic
    • James Brandenburg
    • Helen Ivory
    • Danilo P. Lompar
    • Juri Talvet
    • Polly Mukanova
    • Djurdja Vukelic Rozic
    • Stanka Gjuric
    • Krystyna Lenkowska
    • Diti Ronen
    • Elma Dugic
    • Anna Bagriana
    • Marius Chelaru
    • Armin Bolic
    • Bujar Plloshtani
    • Craig Czury
    • Dusan Zivic
    • Gonzalo Salesky
    • Igor Rems
    • Ndue Ukaj
    • Benjamin Hasic
    • Richard Berengarten
    • Enver Muratovic
    • Sabah Al Zubeidi
    • Zoran Basic
    • Valentina Petrovic
    • Jeton Kelmendi
    • Dimitar Hristov
    • Heather Thomas
    • Naida Hrustemovic
    • Laura Klapka
    • Iskra Peneva
    • Alma Jeftic
    • Nemanja Dragas
    • Ines Perusko Rihtar
    • Radojko Lako Veselinovic
    • Emilija Mijatovic
    • Iouri Lazirko
    • Irena Maric
    • Goran Vuckovic
    • Salih Bazdulj
    • Senada Besic
    • Dzevad Kucukalic
    • Dzejlana Sutkovic
    • Anita Palavra
    • Stevo Basara
    • Olga Lalic Krowicka
    • Ladislav Babic
    • Aniceto Remisson
    • Nora Dubach
    • Vjekoslav Zadro
    • Vasiljka Maric
    • Safeta Osmicic
    • Marina Drobnjakovic
    • Carlos Vitale
    • Suzana Ostric
    • Helena Horvat
    • Miso L. Korac
    • Franc Tominec
    • Julije Jelaska
    • Albina Idrizi
    • Ivona Jukic
    • Nemanja Hodzaj
    • Amir Sulic
    • Dwaipayan Regmi
    • Giorgio Bolla
    • Jovica Djurdjic
    • Marko Lj. Ruzicic
    • Peycho Kanev
    • Ruzica Gavranovic
    • Smajil Durmisevic
    • Salv Sammut
    • Zdravko Odorcic
    • Zivko Avramovic
    • Vlado Franjevic
    • Miroslav Pilj
    • Vladislav Pavicevic
    • Pere Risteski
    • Zarko Milenic
  • DIOGEN home page
    • Dragica Ohashi
    • Petraq Risto
    • Cai Tianxin
    • Sladjana Atanasova
    • Miguel Angel Bernao Burrieza
    • Evgenij M'Art
    • Olivera Docevska
    • Hamidreza Shekarsari Salimi
    • Bozidar B. Bagola
    • Braha Rosenfeld
    • Muniam Alfaker
    • Aleksandar Sajin
    • Milena Rudez
    • Niels Hav
    • Aleksandar Isailovic
    • Alexander Ocheretyansky
    • Elena Prendzova
    • Philip Lewis Henderson
    • Izeta Radetinac
    • Marija Pogorilic
    • Omer C. Ibrahimagic
    • Robert A. Vrbnjak
    • Veljko Bosnic
    • Zvonimir Grozdic
    • Violeta Allmuca
    • Jurata Bogna Serafinska
    • Arkadijusz Frania
    • Silvia Guiard
    • Slobodan Vukanovic
    • Redzo Butkovic
    • Zhang Zhi
    • Katarina Saric
    • Dragan Krsnik
    • Nia S. Amira
    • Verica Tadic
    • Adrian N. Escudero
    • Dajana Lazarevic
    • Menduh Leka
    • Mirjana M. Stakic
    • Natalia Belchenko
    • Sandeep Chandrashekhar Deshmukh
    • Nizar Sartawi
    • DIOGEN INTERVIEW PAGE >
      • Ivanka Radmanovic
      • Antonia Kralj
      • Branislav Crnic
      • Slobodan Dosic Stjepanov
      • Dragi Tasic
      • Ilija Mikic
      • Miroslav R. Zecevic
      • Pande Manojlov
      • Sanijela Matkovic
      • Ana Bogosavljevic
      • Tamara Lujak
      • Yuan Changming
      • Dejan Djordjevic
      • Svetlana Zivanovic
      • Dusan Radakovic
      • Sasa Mickovic
      • Pietro Pancamo
      • Larisa Softic_Gasal
      • Sanaz Davoodzadeh Far
      • Klaudia Rogowicz
      • Marko Stanojevic
      • Igor Petric
      • Gloria Wolf
      • Ivan Sokac
      • Jasmina Malesevic
      • Miroslav Stamenkovic
      • Refika Dedic
      • Arife Kalender
      • Neval Savak
      • Mbizo Chirasha
      • Mesut Senol
      • Hristo Petreski
      • Claudia Piccinno
      • Jadranka Varga
      • Jozo Jakisa
      • Murat Yurdakul
      • Serpil Devrim
      • Aydan Yalcin
      • Tom Veber
      • Marija Dragicevic
      • Grigorije Gavranov
      • Emir Sokolovic
      • Vladan Kuzmanovic
      • Tithi Afroz
      • Selda Kaya
      • Nebojsa Amanovic
      • Irena Kovacevic
      • Natasha Xhelili
      • Partha Sarkar
      • Natasa Krizanic
      • Vyacheslav Konoval
      • Sudhakar Gaidhani
NA LISTI Od 04.8.2010.g. / 
LISTED SINCE August 4th, 2010 
among leading European magazines:
Picture
All Rights Reserved
 Publisher online and owner: 

Sabahudin Hadžialić, MSc 

Sarajevo & Bugojno, 
               Bosnia and Herzegovina        
        

MI OBJEDINJUJEMO RAZLIČITOSTI...
WE ARE UNIFYING DIVERSITIES
Picture
Picture

Preporuka za 2014 - Narudžba knjiga / Purchasing of the books / Bücher bestellen
Picture
Samira Begman
Picture
Avery Thorn
Picture
Sabahudin Hadžialić
Picture
Samira Begman
Picture
Sabahudin Hadžialić

Picture

Bojana Stojanović Pantović, Beograd, Srbija

Picture
Bojana Stojanovic Pantovic was born in Belgrade, Serbia (1960). Critic, poet and translator. Full Professor at the Department of Comparative literature, Faculty of Philosophy in Novi Sad. Researcher in the Expressionistic Movement in Serbian, South-Slavonic and European literature, Gender Studies, Genealogy of the short prose genres, Contemporary poetry. Visiting professor in Halle, Hamburg, Berlin, Ljubljana and Wroclaw. In 1995-2001 she also lectured at the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade, where she lives.

Selected works: Serbian Expressionism (Srpski ekspresionizam 1998), Heritage of Sumatraism (Nasleđe sumatraizma, 1998), Morphology of the Expressionist Prose (Morfologija ekspresionističke proze, 2003), Rebellion against the Centre (Pobuna protiv središta, 2006), Spans of Modernism (Rasponi modernizma, 2011). Editor and co-author of the Conscise Dictionary of Comparative Terminology in the Literature and Culture (Pregledni rečnik komparatističke terminologije u književnosti i kulturi, 2011), Prose-poem or prozaida (Pesma u prozi  ili prozaida, 2012).

Poetry collections: Endless-She (Beskrajna 2005), Fiancées of Fire - prose poems (Zaručnici vatre 2008), Shining (Isijavanje 2009); upcoming: Lections about Death (Lekcije o smrti,  2013).

Her papers and poems are translated in english, german, french, greek, slovenian, macedonian, polish and spanish language.

See also: http://sl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bojana_Stojanović Pantović 



VILLA AMIRA, Street Ante Starčevića 33, 
Orebić, Croatia
http://villaamira.weebly.com/

LP vinyl sell from 
Bosnia and Herzegovina
http://lpvinyl.weebly.com/


            Čitalačko bdijenje mrtve pjesme


Da, poezija Bojane Stojanović Pantović u prvom, zbunjujućem, čitanju kao da rabi odu, opelo poetici par excellance...Ali, kada se vratimo ponova čitanju predočene poezije (što kvalitetna poetika uvijek čini obrazovanom čitaocu) pred nama se otvara sasvim drugi svijet.  Svijet ljudskih težnji za razumom, raciom, objašnjenju svekolikih svakodnevnica, ljudi, misli...promišljanja. O sebi, svijetu. I o poeziji, Naravno. 

Njeno čitalačko bdijenje čak i "mrtvoj pjesmi", kako i sama veli, je ipak usmjereno buđenju novonastalih vizija. 

Vlastitih apriori.  A aposteriori? Osjetićete. Ne dok čitate, već kada iščitate poruke  razumnih težnji autorice. 

Vrijedi.

Riječ urednika

Sabahudin Hadžialić
12.4.2013.

          Reader's wake of the dead poem


Yes, poetry from Bojana Stojanovic Pantović in the first, confusing, reading looks like she uses the ode, requiem to the poetics par excellence ...But when we come back again to the reading of presented poetry (which quality poetics always does to the educated reader) in front of us opens a whole different world. World of human aspiration towards reason, racio and explanation of the overall daily life, people, thoughts ... reconsiderations.


Abouth herself, about the world.And about poetry, of course.

Her reader's wake even for "the dead poem", as she states, is still focused towards awakening of the emerging vision.


Her own apriori. And what about aposteriori? You will feel. Not while reading, but when your read through the messages of reasonable aspirations of the authoress.

Worth.


Editor's word

Sabahudin Hadžialić
12.4.2013.


         IZ CIKLUSA  ARIJADNINO KLUPKO

1.

S.Antonio di Padova prega per noi
govorili su pred počinak
Snežana i sedam patuljaka, Uspavana lepotica
šaputali bi nam pred spavanje
mi smo bili patuljci
skrivali se pod suknju Zle veštice
sisali joj krv
lomili purpurne potpetice
iščekivali trenutak kada će
Zver od ruže postati princ
sanjali Velikog Oza
vezanih nogu koračali putem Žutih opeka
Yellowbrick Road
Gle! Kuća od Zlata


2.

rozete        ušne  školjke
glava u utrobi
Casa D Oro      
preslikavaju prozore u karlice
beonjače
liče na golubove iz leta Gospodnjeg 1508.
po gležnjevima  hodu  i  ostalom
tiho polažu njihova jaja u svoju
kožu   na očne kapke 
rozete
ušne školjke 



3.                                                                                    


                                          U Kući od Zlata strašni Oz
poklonio nam je veliku mrežu od inja
Istorija se ponavlja
rekao je tada
Nismo ga više sanjali
valjda se pretvorio u ribu
                         puža                                                                     meduzu
zrno peska
krije se u našim bočicama
                         lavabou                                                                 akvarijumu
dobri Oz
nevidljivi Oz
                                                                     Oz
                                                                                Oz
                                                                                            pada kosi sumrak
                                       
                                                 

                                                 LEDENO   DOBA
                                                              

                                                                 1.

                                               paprat   palme   pinije
                                               skeleti morskih zvezda na koralnim sprudovima
                                               ljušture puževa uronjenih
                                               u sedefastu limfu
                                               veliki pauci pletu mreže od inja
                                               zubi     slonova  kost
                                               ždralovi izvijaju duge vratove i
                                                                            osluškuju sneg
                                               paprat  palme  pinije
                                              

                                                                2.

                                               umesto lica imaš oči
                                      pod ledom ih držiš širom otvorene


                                                                  3.

                                               izmena vida
                                               drukčiji raspored glasnih žica
                                               otvrdnjavanje nutrine

                                                              4.

                                              čeona kost  bedro  nožni članak
                                              sada su samo pećinski ukrasi

                                                               5.

                                            uramiti lice
                                            isisati krv
                                            uvoštiti
                                            otisnuti u krečnjaku

                                            ................................

                                            potom sastrugati



U KRATKOM  IZDISAJU

Između redova samo
slovnih mesta
razrokih pogleda
slepljenih listova
skoro nevidljivih proreda

Mogu biti šta god  želim
sve što od mene
može biti
Od nas
u kratkom izdisaju

Na sporednoj postelji
ljubavničke margine
koja se neprestano širi
i uvećava
da bismo se udobnije smestili
među čaršave
pod baldahine

I čvršće
priljubili
telima
jedno uz drugo
u čitalačkom bdenju

Kad jedan usni
drugi svu noć
govori  naglas

Ono što nikada pre
ni posle toga neće
reći
čuti
ni pročitati
šapatom ili
krikom

Svejedno



DRUGI  PROLAZAK  KROZ BRANDENBURŠKU KAPIJU

Nije svaki ulazak u grad  isti :
nekada je dovoljno
dotaći kožu
neke stare kuće,
pa da se vrata pećine
otvore širom.

Nekada se vodom do njega stiže:
spajanjem obala
jedne, ili dve reke,
dubinskim kadrom
kojim se moreuz
pretapa u more.

Al ovde moraš drugačije :
prilagoditi korak
talasanju oblaka
i njihovom trenutnom snimku.

Potapšati konja po sapima,
ogrnuti plašt,
isukati mač,
pozdraviti uzavrelu gomilu.

Proći, tako,  nevidljiv, kroz vazduh.




                                         ŠKRINJA

Zauvek će ostati skriveno
Što ostavih duboko u šumi :
Slomljeni krčag
Progorelo krilo slepog miša
Poruku od nepoznatog gosta

I još više:
Prepuna škrinja blaga
Koje prebrojavam
U tvom odsustvu
I dugo zagledam taj pramen  kose

 Udvajam se
To sam ja
Opet ja
Ljubim svoje lice
Milujem se nežno
Da li sad vidiš da si to ti
U šumi spletenih ruku
Nalik našim
Koje nisu ničije


Zovem sebe
Odazivaš se ti
Opet ti
Zamene su nepodnošljive
Otkrivam svoje lice
A znam da je tvoje
Ljubim ga sa strahom

I škrinja se polako
Za nama
Zatvara




LEPTIRICA

Onde gde prestaje sećanje
Nema ni provalije
Ni vinuća u nebo

Ni ravne linije
Ni koridora svetlosti
Iz druge galaksije

Samo beli povez
Preko očiju
Crna voštana tablica
Na kojoj su svi znaci poravnani

Sva glagolska vremena
Preseljena  u večni pasiv
U trpljenje jezika

Ničim izazvanog
Osim hira promene
U prvom licu

Što bi da napusti telo
Teskobnu čauru
Iz koje pred svitanje
Leptirica ne izlazi



                                                    ISIJAVANJE

Već danima niko me ne zove
ne remeti dnevnu satnicu
ne proverava jesam li napolju

Ili možda nisam      ne
na granici nevidljivoj

Jesam li dakle unutrašnja
ili sasvim malo spoljašnja
gde sam sebi unutra
a gde spolja
na rubu promenljivom

Pred vratima u uglu
ostavljen prazan čanak
bez hleba i vode
bez mesa i suza –
dok posvuda veje sitna so....

Sklonih se zato
među kućne stvari
koje odavno ne koristim

Postadoh spokojni deo
Nameštaja
Posuđa
zamena za štafelaj
Samujem

kao srebrni samovar
blistam se
Iz mene navire

medena tečnost
al smrznut je
moj lik na staklu

Već danima

niko me ne zove
niko ne obilazi

Špijunka je beznadno

zaklopljena
kvaka  na vratima
otpala
na kapiji čami
sasušen venac 

Samo u beloj

samo u munjevitoj
figuri svetla
Neko tamom                                           
ka meni putuje




OVO  I  ONO  VREME

                                 Katarini, to England

Razvući vreme
kao ribarsku mrežu
kroz koju propadaju
sati
kao u bunar
bez dna
a ipak se talože
u rečni mulj
u topljeno
zlato

Ovo i ono vreme
Od juče
Od pre nekog
Trena
Od  uvek

Može se odmotati
kao folio
drhtavih pejzaža
starih mapa
gde Zemlja je ravna
i  naporedna

Može se useliti
kao duh u lampu
u napuštenu preslicu
što obavlja
tajni nalog tkanja
ženske kose i bršljana –

Kroz posvećeni čin
zaruka
pomalo incestuozan
jer spaja poroke
lepote i minulog

Između dva čekanja
desiće se:
ono što već je prošlo
i ono koje iščekujemo
kao zavet mladenaca
kao zauvek osmehnuto

Dok u najvišim  kulama
ne odzvoni gong
za završni nastup
žrtve
za poslednji urlik
gomile

I  krv s gradskog trga
Kao izvor
U dubini
Ne proključa



OSTAJEŠ  SAM  U TAMI
         
Ostaješ sam u tami
tamo gde te obično ostavljam da sediš
i zuriš u vrh zašiljene olovke
u razjapljene čeljusti pištolja

Niko ne može da prekine
konopac koji te spaja s belim kavezom
koji te štiti od ptica
od sunca
od nje

Iščekuješ zvuk koraka
koji te užasavaju         uvek
i uvek iznova    ruka se tanji
ključna kost se lomi
u param parčad     telo je
već požutelo i sprženo

Da li u čelu čuvaš previše svetlosti
od koje se slepi
ili suvih očiju padaš na zemlju
u poslednje buđenje

Ostaješ sam u tami  






CRNI  PROZORI

Crni  prozori
Na telu kuća

Zure kao prazne oči
U kojima niko ne stanuje

U sebi skupljaju
Gutljaj po gutljaj mraka

Ponovljenih večeri
Magle u kojoj nestaju šine

I love prolaznike
Što se upisuju korakom

Crni prazni prozori
Šire se preko fasade

Zapljuskuju kolovoze
I pločnike

U kojima vide
Sebe same

Kao besne talase
Kao crnu morsku penu

Kao crno

Samo crno



VEČERNJA  ŠETNJA

Ostajemo konačno
same ti i ja

Ubledele i poluispavane
sigurne da ovo predveče
pripada samo nama

Ti s jedne
ja s druge strane
ledenog ivičnjaka
hodamo svaka za sebe

I ćutimo
da bismo ostale cele
i odbacile svaku
pomisao

Kako bi nas
još neko mogao
voleti
u ovo doba dana

Kada i ti više ne
daješ znake života
Samoćo



BIVŠI  PUTNICI                                           

Sve dalje od svetla, sve bliže zazidanom prozoru
u podzemnoj železnici, do kog se spuštam
                                                            kao u rudarsko okno.

Naučila sam da razaznajem nijanse mraka, spolja i unutra,
i ne može me prevariti udaljeni plamičak
                                                            što se zastrašujuće bliži

Daleko sam od isijavanja: ono se dešava negde drugde,
u železničkom hangaru, u mrtvačnici gde je
svako konačno sam, hladan  i definisan paljenjem sveće.

Nema odraza, nema odsjaja na licu vagona,
samo  prazne table lebde na dolaznim peronima,
i sumračni likovi bivših  putnika nadiru
                                                   u oblacima ugljene prašine





SVE   TO

U sluhu su zamrle julske žege
i ubrzo, sve će se preobraziti:
kamen, brezov list, baštensko cveće, bogomoljka.
Sve to, da bi se proživela mrtva pesma.

Spušten je pogled iza planinskih vrhova
i uspostavljena  vladavina avgusta.
Iz južnih luka pristiže krik galebova
ukrštajući se sa zovom domaćih ptica.
Nebo se mreška kao površina dubokog mora.

Slatko je i podatno u šumi koja tone
i izranja kao glava na krštenju.
Raspored četinara zavisi od
narasle strasti između plime i oseke.

Sve to, da bi se napisala mrtva pesma.



IZMEĐU DVA DOLASKA  FERIBOTA
                                                
U jedan letnji čas stane sve:
kapelica sa temeljima pod zemljom,
upaljena sveća za nepoznatog šetača
što ne strahuje od mraka.

Pun  mesec teško pritiska more
darujući mu bleštavu kožu;
truli napušten vrt u Limenasu
nadomak paganskog svetilišta.

Između prstiju curi pesak
i galebovi pričaju svojim
nerazumljivim jezikom pučini:
čujem mirni glas moje sestre
u ravnomernim pauzama
između dva dolaska feribota.

Niko ne maše na rastanku,
iako je rastanak konačan.
Niko ne uzvikuje dobrodošlicu,
iako svi hrle u zagrljaj.
Ljudske figure su crvene i zbijene,
kao konzerve na rafovima supermarketa.

I samo taj jedan sat razlike
čini da se sve razlije i vrati svom početku:
Agori, ljubavi vode i kopna, vatre i vazduha,
zračnom podneblju večnoga odmora. 

FROM THE CYCLE  ARIADNA'S HANK

1.

S. Antonio di Padova prega per noi
they would say before sleep
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
The Sleeping Beauty
they would whisper to us before sleep
we were dwarfs
we were hiding under the skirt of the Wicked Witch
sucking her blood
breaking her purple heels
waiting for the moment when
the Beast turns from a rose into a Prince
we were dreaming of Oz the Great
walking the Yellowbrick Road with our feet tied
Yellowbrick Road
Look! The House of Gold

2.

rosettes      earlobes
head in the guts
Casa D' Oro
they trace the windows to the pelvis
sclera
they look like pidgeons from ana domini of 1508.
similar ankles the walk and other
they silently lay their eggs in their
skin      on their eyelids
rosettes
earlobes



3.

                                In the House of Gold Oz the Great
gave us a big frosting net
History repeats
he then said
We didn't dream of him anymore
I guess he turned into a fish
a snail                                    a jellyfish
grain of sand
he's hiding in our bottles
in the sink                       in an aquarium
good Oz
invisible Oz

Oz

                Oz
                                                                           
                                                                  the oblique twillight falls


ICE AGE

1

fern    palmtrees     pines
starfish skeletons on coral
                                  reefs
shells of snails dipped
into nacre lymph
big spiders are knitting a frosting net
teeth      elephant bone
waterbirds are craning
                               and listening to the snow
fern     palmtrees     pines



2

you have eyes insted of face
under the ice you're keeping them wide open


3

change of sight
different disposition of vocal cords
hardening of the womb

4

frontal bone thigh ankle
are now just cave decoration

5

to frame the face
to suck out the blood
to wax
to print in the limestone

...................................

then scrape


IN A SHORT EXHALE

Between the lines of only
letter places
cross-eyed looks
glued sheets
almost invisible spaces

I could be anything I like
everything that could be
out of me
Out of us
in a short exhale

On the side bed
of lover’s margin
which permanently broadens
and magnifies
so that we could place ourselves
more comfortable
in between the sheets
under the canopies

So that we could nestle
to each other
with our bodies
in a reader’s wake

Once one falls asleep
the other speaks out loud
throughout the night

The things that they’ll never say
hear
read in whisper
or scream
before or after it

It doesn’t matter






THE SECOND PASSING BY THROUGH THE BRANDENBURG GATE

Not every entry into the city is the same:
sometimes it’s enough to
touch the skin
of an old house,
so that the doors of the cave
widely open.

Sometimes we come to it by water:
by merging the coasts
of one or two rivers
with a deep cadre
by which the strait
decants into the sea.

But here it must be different :
adjust the step
to the swell of the clouds
and to their current frame.

Pat the horse on the croup,
put on your cloak,
draw your sword,
salute the seethed crowd.

To pass by, invisible, through the air.




THE CHEST

What I left deep in the woods
Will forever be hidden :
A broken jug
A burnt wing of a bat
Unknown guest’s message

And even more:
A top-full case of treasures
That I count
When you’re not here
And I study that hair wisp
for a long time

I double myself
It’s me
Me again
I kiss my face
I caress myself
Can you see now that it’s you
In the woods of entangled arms
That resemble ours
That are nobody’s


I call myself
You answer back
You again
The substitutes are unbearable
I uncover my face
And I know it’s yours
I kiss it fearfully

And the chest closes
Slowly
After us



BUTTERFLY (SHE)

There, where the memory ceases
There’s no abyss
Or soar to the sky

There’s no straight line
Or the corridor of the light
From another galaxy

There’s only white blindfold
A black waxen board
On which all the symbols are aligned

All the tenses

Are moved to the eternal passive
To the suffering of the language

Unprovoked
Except for the caprice
Of the change
In first person

That wants to vacate the body

An anxious cocoon
From which the butterfly
Prior to the dawn
Doesn’t get out



THE SHINING

Nobody has called me in days
disturbed the daily timetable
checked if I’m outside

Or maybe I’m not       no
on the invisible border

Am I therefore internal
or just a little bit external
where am I (to myself) inside
and where outside
on a changeable edge

In front of the door in the corner
there’s an empty bowl left
without bread and water
without meat and tears –
while powdery salt
winnows everywhere...

So I sheltered
among home things
that I haven’t used in a long time

I became a serene part
Of the furniture
Of the dishes
a substitute for an easel
I spend my hours in solitude

like a silver samovar
I glisten

A honey liquid

gushes from me
but frozen is my
silhouette on the glass

Nobody has called me in days
Nobody has visited me

The spyhole has been

hopelessly shut
the catch on the door
has dropped off
there’s a dried wreath
languishing on the gate

Only in the white
Only in the fulminant
figure of light
there’s somebody
in the darkness
travelling towards me


THIS AND THAT TIME

                               to Katarina, in England

To stretch the time
like a fisher’s net
through which the hours
collapse
as if into a well
without bottom
and still they store
into river silt
into melted
gold

This and that time
From yesterday
From a little while ago
From forever

Can be unwrapped
like a folio
of trembling landscapes
of old maps
where the Earth is plane
and parallel

Can move in
like a ghost into a lamp
into an abandoned distaff
that fulfills
the secret order of weaving
the woman’s hair and ivy –

Through a devoted act
of engagement
a little bit incestuous
for merging the vices
of beauty and the elapsed

Between two waitings
it will happen:
what’s already been over
and what we await
like a vow of the newlyweds
like an eternal smile

Until in the highest towers
the gong strikes
the final performance
of the victim
the last scream
of the crowd

And until the blood from
The city square boils
In the depth
Like a spring




YOU STAY ALONE IN THE DARK

You stay alone in the dark
where I usually leave you to sit
and stare into the peak
of a tapered pencil
into the snapping jaws of the pistol


No one can break
the rope that connects you
to the white cage
that protects you from the birds
from the sun
from her

You expect the sound of the steps
that always horrify you      again
and again    the hand is thinning
the collarbone is breaking
into pieces       the body is
already yellow and seared

Do you keep in your forehead
too much light that blinds
or you fall to the ground
dry-eyed
into the last awakening

You stay alone in the dark


BLACK  WINDOWS

Black windows
On the body of houses

Staring like empty eyes
In which no one lives

Collect in themselves
Gulp per gulp of darkness

Of the repeating evenings
Fogs in which rails disappear

Hunting passers-by
Who inscribe their foot steps

Black empty windows
Spread over facades

Wash the roads
And pavements

In which they see
Themselves

Like the furious waves
Like the black sea foam

Like black

Only black



NIGHT STROLL

We’re finally alone
you and me

Pale and half-sleepy
convinced that this
early evening
belongs to us only

You on one side
me on the other
of an icy curb
we walk each to our own

And remain silent
in order to stay whole
and reject
any thought

So that there could be
somebody else loving us
at this time of the day

When you won’t be giving

any signs of life either
Solitude



FORMER TRAVELLERS

Further from the light, closer to the walled  window
in a subway, to which I descend
                                          like into a shaft.

I’ve learned to recognize the nuances of the dark, outside and inside,
and I can’t be tricked by a distanced flicker
                                          that is scarily getting closer

I’m far from shining: it’s happening somewhere else,
in a railway hangar, in a morgue
where everyone’s finally alone, cold and defined by lighting of a candle.

There’s no reflection, no gleam on the face of the wagon,
only the empty tables hover on the incoming platforms,
and dark figures of former travellers surge
                                          in the clouds of carbon dust


ALL THAT

The July heats have died in the hearing
and soon, everything will change:
the stone, the leaf of a birch, garden flowers, the mantis.
All that, in order to live a dead poem.

The view behind the mountain peaks
is falling down
and the reign of August has been established.
From the southern ports comes the cry of the seagulls
crossing the call of domestic birds.
The sky is rippling like the surface of a deep sea.

It’s sweet and smooth in a sinking forest
that emerges like a head on the christening.
The disposition of the conifers depends
on the grown passion between the ebb and flow.

All that, in order to write a dead poem.



BETWEEN TWO ARRIVALS OF THE FERRIES

A summer moment contains everything:
a little chapel with foundations
underneath the ground,
a lighted candle for an unknown wanderer

who isn’t afraid of the dark.
The full Moon is severely pressing the sea
giving it a flare skin;
a rotten, deserted garden in Limenas
within reach of a pagan sanctuary.

The sand is flowing between the fingers
and seagulls are talking to the open sea
in their opaque language:
I hear the calm voice of my sister
in even pauses
between two arrivals of the ferries.

Nobody is waving on the partition
even though it’s for good.
Nobody is cheering the welcome,
even though everybody’s rushing into embrace.
Human figures are red and compacted,
like cans on supermarket shelves.

And only that single hour of difference

makes everything diffuse and return to its beginning:
To αγορά , the love of the water and the land,
the fire and the air,
to the light zone of eternal rest.

bojana_stojanovic_pantovic_poezija.doc
File Size: 430 kb
File Type: doc
Download File

bojana_stojanovic_pantovic_poezija.pdf
File Size: 368 kb
File Type: pdf
Download File

bojana_stojanovic_pantovic_poetry.doc
File Size: 417 kb
File Type: doc
Download File

bojana_stojanovic_pantovic_poetry.pdf
File Size: 405 kb
File Type: pdf
Download File



Picture
Giorgio Bolla from Italy - on the left) and Editor in chief of DIOGEN pro culture magazine, Sabahudin Hadzialic at Svrzo house (Museum Sarajevo) during 3. Poetry marathon on 21.3.2013.

Picture

.

Picture
Copyright © 2014 DIOGEN pro culture magazine & Sabahudin Hadžialić
Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara. 
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić

All Rights Reserved. Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić
WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com

Contact Editorial board E-mail: contact_editor@diogenpro.com;  
Narudžbe/Order: orderyourcopy@diogenpro.com
Pošta/Mail: Freelance Editor in chief Sabahudin Hadžialić, 
Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili 
Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina     

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.