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ZORICE STANKOVIĆ

ZORICE STANKOVIĆ, Niš, R Srbija

Zorica Stanković je rođena u Svrljigu. Živi u Nišu. Po diplomi pravnik, po zanimanju novinar-menadžer i fotoreporter, a po vokaciji pesnik. Prvu knjigu poezije pod nazivom « Zorujem zoru » objavila najpre 2010. godine.

  1. godine radi dopunjeno i izmenjeno izdanje. Pored poezije Zorica ,piže pesme za decu, eseje i priče… Dobitnik je brojnih nagrada i priznanja za poeziju i umetničku fotografiju.Učesnik je brojnih književnih kolonija,maratona, festivala i manifestacija kako u zemlji, tako i u inostranstvu. Poezija joj je za dvadesetak i više godina koliko se bavi pisanjem objavljena u preko 300 zajedničkih zbornika, antologija, edicija, almanaha, časopisa za umetnost i kulturu… Poezija joj je objavljivana i prevedena na više jezika… Na bugarski, ruski, slovenački, arapski, grčki i romski, Član je mnogih književnih udruženja i klubova u zemlji, ali i u inostranstvu… Član je Udruženja Književnika « Branko Miljković » i Udruženje pisaca « Glas korena »iz Niša, Udruženja pisaca « Dušan Matić »iz Ćuprije, Književnog kluba « Miroslav-Mika Antić » iz Inđije, « Poezija Stenka » i Udruženja pisaca « Poeta »iz Beograda… Predsednik je Srbsko-Ruskog Bratstva (poverenik za jug Srbije-Niš), član « Srbsko-Bugarskog prijateljstva »,član « Udruženja balkanskih umetnika »iz Subotice . Od 2014. god je i član Hrvatskog književnog društva. Organizator je brojnih kulturno-umetničkih i književnih dešavanja u svom gradu Nišu i drugim gradovima… U štampi je njena druga zbirka poezije, a u pripremi knjiga istinitih priča pod nazivom »Priče-moje, vaše i njihove ». Roman njen će sačekati neka bolja finansijska vremena. Za svoje stvaralaštvo je dobinik brojnih književnih nagrada i priznanaj. Zorica se pored poezije dugo godina (oko dvadesetak godina aktivno )bavila i još uvek bavi humanitarnim radom… Kako u » Aktivu žena Niša », tako i u Gradskoj Organizaciji Crvenog Krsta Niša… Ima Zorica još jednu veliku ljubav, a to je muzika kojom se bavi od detinjstva do današnjeg dana i to kao horski pevač. Peva od osnovne škole, od dečjeg hora pa do današnjeg dana. Trenutno je pevač u gradskom horu (« Niški kamerni hor ») gde ječlan od osnivanja (od pre 25 god) pa do današnjeg dana…. »POEZIJA NIKAKO NE IDE BEZ MUZIKE »-Poručuje Zorica!!!

 

 

OKEAN TUGE

 

Izmiđu iza nas mostovi večitih uzdaha.

Nekada nasmejane, a sada zgužvane godine.

Duše ogoljene,

snovi u komade.

Neprovidnom zavesom magle si me zamotao.

Postelju sa svilene mesečine izbrisao

I noći koje su tebe šaputale.

Dok je vetar rapsodiju plesao,

Mesec iz crne kose si mi raspleo.

Sad mi se više ne smeše ,

Ni Sunce,

ni Mesec, ni Zvezde,

nit’ sanjiva Zora,

Sjaj u očima si mi zaledio,

A gorčinom dušu zasejao.

Duša mi se sada gorčinom hrani.

Na basamaku zavičajne kuće zorujem,

I setom zoru dočekujem.

Rosa mi bisere ne niše više,

a nit koja nas je spajala dogoreva.

Nekad sam mogla Okean srećom okititi,

a sada se u baricu davim.

 

 

TUGOVANKA

 

Razorene humke prosute,

po svilenoj mesečini.

Rastopljeno olovo,

zemlju okovalo.

Cvetaju krvlju zadojeni,

kosovski božuri.

Planduju tuđa stada,

na livadama Gračanice.

Iz praznih štala muk.

Kuće popaljene poharane.

Lelek na zgarištima.

U neoranim njivama,

u šljivicima i vinogradima,

gde odavno ništa ne rađa,

sretne se poneka starina.

Pogledi im ugašeni ugarci.

Zure u nebo.

Pitaju se hoće li opet jednoga dana,

zaorati novu rodnu brazdu.

Ugledati procvat jorgovana

i nizove rose ko manistre.

Ćute gusle.

Plaču zvona…

Vetar u granama mrsu tugu.

Za mrtve i žive,

tihujem zadušnice…

 

 

 

ZGUŽVANE GODINE

 

Ne volim zlatno-žutu mesečinu,

kada dan počne gurati od sebe

Ne volim ni kada zvezde zajezde nebeskom pučinom.

Tada mi bes raspoluti telo,

a tuga razjeda  dušu.

Sećanja isplove.

Bezsramniče!!!

Ti, što si moju baštu

godinama brao i gorčinom je zasejao .

Duša mi je sada gorčinom otrovana.

Nutrinu mi razjeda.

Zbog protračenih godina i lažnih osećanja kojima si me kitio..

Srce si moje u paramparčad polomio,

u grudima oganj ljutnje razbuktao,

pa mi sada san zavesu na oči nikako ne navlači.

Ne volim sada Mesec kada počne iza brda bežati

i tonuti u željno čekani san.

Ne volim ni sa kim obzorje da hvatam.

Podseća me na naše zorovanje.

Ne volim ni jutarnji smeh vetrova u garavoj mi kosi,

koju si nočima mrsio.

Bio si moje zorovanje i plavo svitanje.

Sada ne volim ništa ama baš ništa  naše i tvoje,

zbog uzaludno mi potrošenih najlepših,

a sada omrznutih godina.

……………………………..

ZORICE STANKOVIC, Nis, R Serbia

 

 

Zorica Stankovic was born in Svrljig. He lives in Nis. Upon graduation he is a lawyer, by profession a journalist-manager and photojournalist, and by vocation a poet. She first published her first poetry book, « Dawn of Dawn, » in 2010.

2016 has been updated and amended. In addition to poetry Zorica, he writes poems for children, essays and stories … He has received numerous awards and recognitions for poetry and art photography. He is a participant of numerous literary colonies, marathons, festivals and events both in the country and abroad. For more than twenty years as a writer, she has published poetry in over 300 common collections, anthologies, editions, almanacs, journals of arts and culture … Her poetry has been published and translated into several languages ​​… Bulgarian, Russian, Slovenian, Arabic, Greek and Roma, He is a member of many literary associations and clubs in the country as well as abroad… He is a member of the Writers’ Association « Branko Miljkovic » and the Writers’ Association « Glas Root » from Niš, the Writers’ Association « Dušan Matic » from Cuprija, the Miroslav- Mika Antic « from Indjija, » Poetry Stenka « and the Association of Writers » Poet « from Belgrade … He is the President of the Serbian-Russian Brotherhood (Commissioner for the South of Serbia-Nis), a member of the » Serbian-Bulgarian Friendship « , a member of the » Balkan Artists Association « of Subotica . Since 2014 he is a member of the Croatian Literary Society. He is the organizer of numerous cultural, artistic and literary events in his city of Niš and other cities … Her second collection of poetry is in print, and in the preparation of books of true stories called « Stories-mine, yours and theirs ». Her novel will wait for better financial times. He has received numerous literary awards and recognitions for his work. In addition to poetry, Zorica has been active and engaged in humanitarian work for many years (about twenty years) … In both the « Active Women of Nis » and in the City Organization of the Red Cross of Nis … Zorica has another great love, which is music that has been engaged since childhood to the present day as a choral singer. She has been singing since elementary school, from the children’s choir to the present day. He is currently a singer in the City Choir (« Nis Chamber Choir ») where he has been a member since its foundation (from 25 years ago) until today …. « POETRY WILL NEVER GO WITHOUT MUSIC » – Zorica ordered !!!

 

 

OKEAN OF GLORY

 

Behind us are bridges of eternal sighs.

Formerly smiling, now crumpled years.

The souls of the naked,

dreams into pieces.

With an impenetrable curtain of mist, you wrapped me up.

Silk moon moon wiped out

And the nights that whispered to you.

As the wind rhapsody danced,

You blew my moon out of black hair.

Now they don’t smile at me anymore,

Neither is the Sun,

not the moon, no stars,

nor the dreamy Dawn,

You have the glitter in your eyes,

And bitter soul shone.

My soul now feeds on bitterness.

I am dawning on the basamak of my home house

And with the dawn set, I welcome.

My dew pearls are no more,

and the thread that joined us is coming together.

I used to be able to decorate the ocean with luck,

and now I’m drowning in a bar.

 

 

TUGOVANKA

 

Destroyed mounds spilled,

by the silk moon.

Molten lead,

the earth shackled.

They bloom with blood,

Kosovo peony.

The flocks of others flock,

in the Gracanica meadows.

From the empty barns of torment.

Houses burned down.

Lelek at the hearths.

In arable fields,

in plums and vineyards,

where nothing has been born for a long time,

some antiques meet.

Their eyes were extinguished.

They are staring at the sky.

They wonder if one day,

to plow up a new birth furrow.

To see the lilacs flourish

and rows of roses like monasteries.

Silent geese.

The cry of the bell …

The wind in the branches hate sadness.

For the dead and the living,

I am silencing the suffocation …

 

 

 

THE YELLOW YEARS

 

I don’t like the golden yellow moon,

when the day begins to push away

I don’t like it when the stars hit the sky.

Then my body is angry,

and sorrow corrupts the soul.

Memories come out.

Shameless !!!

You, being my garden

for years he was picking and bitterly glowing.

My soul is now bitterly poisoned.

My intestines are eating away.

Because of the wasted years and the false feelings you whipped at me ..

You broke my heart into a parachute,

in his chest the fire of anger broke out,

so now the dream curtain on my eyes does not attract.

I don’t like the moon now when it starts to run behind the hills

and sink into an eagerly awaited dream.

I don’t like to catch the horizon with anyone.

It reminds me of our maturation.

I don’t even love the morning laughter of the winds in my brown hair,

which you have lost at night.

You were my maturing and blue dawn.

Now I love nothing am not exactly ours and yours,

because of my most beautifully spent,

and now frozen years.

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