Friends since

 

.

Was it then? Was it in that moment?

In the instant our eyes met,

Did you find me very charmant?

I swear I knew, and yet

I did not act upon this feeling

And gave time to time itself

For it would have sent you reeling,

Me, to the dusty shelf

Of ‘maybe exes and others’ bunch,

Lucky for me time had stopped,

Or should I say I had a hunch?

Nah, my mind had just popped.

And when it returned, oh the colours!

Oh the sounds and oh the warmth,

And the loveliest of odors,

One that almost harmeth;

By chance or coincidence, that day,

I let the sand keep falling

But my friend, be it as it may,

I now thank this stalling.

.


Pachance is the mother of all virtue.

Anticipassion

.

In a draft, it all begins in a draft;

Soft wind is picking up in the white sails,

Who hears the message running in the gales?

Alone on the ocean, lost on a raft,

Who’d, for a sole win, bear a thousand fails?

But thus sparks the genesis of the craft,

There, as a helmsman on the paper aft,

The poet is walking grand celestial trails…

.


An incomplete sonnet.

Tell her

.

The Bittersuite – I

.

Tell her you did not mean it,

Tell her it was a mistake,

Tell her she is gonna wake

And that she’ll never dream it

Ever again in this flesh,

Tell her I pray you, tell her,

Oh please! do not make her thresh

This path for it will fell her,

You cannot leave to silence

What your voice will not express

You cannot restore balance

By stitching up this old dress,

It will tear and it will fall

If you simply run and stall,

Tell oh tell her I tell you

Not for glory, nor a reward,

Not for the many, nor the few,

No, simply to move forward.

So just tell her t’was a lie

Or even that it was truth,

You must tell her, tell her why,

For what now can the pain sooth?

Tell her. Oh sing it! Scream it!

Don’t you see what is at stake?!

Her whole universe will break,

Telling her might redeem it…

.


Home of the Witch.

La bobine usée

.

Et la bobine tourne et tourne bien que plus lentement

Et les haut-parleurs crachent la même neige que l’écran

La large pièce s’est assombrie il y a déjà un moment

Mais le film compensait la sombreur imprégnant les rangs

A présent l’écran à retrouvé son originel blanc

Le générique n’est lors qu’un souvenir loin et distant

La musique s’est fondue dans la mécanique tournant

Et les lumières inondent à nouveau la salle à présent

Chaque spectateur a disparu pleurant ou souriant

Et pour les rouge rideaux il est aussi à présent temps

De doucement retomber de tout oublier et pourtant…

.


Le projectionniste ne rêve que d’une chose.

.

Who are you my friend?

You remain unknown to me

Despite the long years.

Your face is as clear

As your name is written plain,

But you are shadow.

The words are fading

From those chiseled souvenirs,

Yet I find I smile.

.

Freedom

.

Don’t you too find it quite queer how

It is in those strange moments

When the world will not allow

Either complaints or comments

That you then feel the most free?

When the searing heat crackles

The thick walls that you have built

In your shame at feeling guilt –

These two cold, heavy shackles.

Oh the pain is here to stay,

There will never be more true,

Blinding like the light of day,

Always imposed upon you,

But breathe in and count to three…

Isn’t it in this rough tide

That you may soar the highest?

When only your limbs abide

You, the uninvited guest.

Isn’t it quite peculiar

That the heaviest burdens

Make the whole world a liar

And dark storms, peaceful gardens?

Isn’t it quite queer indeed

That the farther you’re apart

Makes you run so much faster?

Who would ever bear to heed

That the heavier the heart

Makes you fight so much harder?

.


“Sometimes harsh limitation is the greatest freedom.” – Unknown artist.

A breath of fresh air

.

There is a strange whisper that today seems awind

A secret tale of youth, told in smiles, told in leaves,

It sings about desire that an archer has twinned,

The words are drops of rain in which warm sunlight weaves,

The notes are those instants where the world is soundless,

Playing along sheets written in gazes hiding

To the beat of footsteps and shadows colliding,

It tales of faithful hearts and devotion endless.

But will it be minor, oh this sweet symphony?

For in time wind calms down and shadows come to pass

In the end even rain will not keep company;

Do beware my young ones for diamond can be glass…

.


Carpe diem,          

          cave nocte.

Into the fray

.

Once more into the fray…

Into the last good fight I’ll ever know.

Live and die on this day…

Live and die on this day…

When night is dark and the stars shine

My mind is stone, my heart is clay,

I remember when you were mine

And how strong your smile used to play.

Once more into the grey,

Unto the one good fight that I can throw.

Truth or lie have no sway

And my cry finds its way…

But as dawn rises in the east

And fantasies come to an end

I must be he who shall not bend,

The once more lonely, fearsome beast.

Once more I run astray

As through me dark and light forever flow,

‘Tis good bye and away,

One more die, one more play…

Oh now the day has passed again,

And the river runs cold and red,

My mind wanders between the pain

And the warm comfort of your bed.

Once more into the fray…

Into the last good fight I’ll ever know.

Live and die on this day…

Live and die in the snow…

.


Guess what movie I watched recently…

Hug

.

Under, over, and then go all around,

Thunder, cover, keep your feet on the ground.

When magic has been cast, there is nowhere to hide,

The future or the past must the wizard abide.

In fire or in storm is reborn

Alone the one without a home,

Sometimes there is hate and sometimes there is scorn

But in this world there is never monochrome.

Always we are changing our ways,

Always we are moving, always,

Where there once was desert

There is music and glee,

Soon will fade the frown

Where rain pours down,

What I mean to say

Is simply this:

Everything is relative,

All first steps are tentative,

But know

And go,

Just be there

And give voice.

Fair

Choice.

.


Midnight contemplation.

You think

.

You may think we are who you think we are,

You may think we think you are who you are,

And you may think you think we are who we are,

But do you think we think you are who we are?

Oh do you think we think that we are who you are?

No the truth is, I think, that you think who we are

Is who you think who we are, not who we think who we are

For who we are, we know, and who you are, oh no,

We know not who you are, you know not who we are,

Heavens, you know not even who you are

So how can you presume to know who we are?

Find yourself to find others and in others find yourself,

Find others in yourself and find others to find yourself,

You think it is a simple straight line,

You think you are who you are and we should be too

But we are who we are and we cannot be you;

We are not us, you are you and we are we,

Yet we are all ourselves and in this we are all we.

.


I am, you are, but are we?

A fun concept I wanted to explore.