.
Tiptoe in the sand,
Smell the salty air,
A wave of the hand
In the soft, warm wind,
Look at the world fair
Your soul to unwind.
Here echoes the sound
Of eternal waves
Caressing the ground
Of a thousand graves;
Weary traveler
Rest body and soul,
Relinquish control,
The unraveller
– The wild blue ocean –
When comes tomorrow,
With its calm motion,
Will soothe your sorrow.
.
.
Mon oiseau a les plumes
Aux couleurs noir de jais,
Le bec odeur agrume,
La peau chaleur de brume,
Le cœur plein de projets.
Un oiseau sans pareil
Dont les yeux océan
Et perles de soleil
Aux doux reflets vermeils
Dansent en mon céans.
Et qu’il vole si haut
Scintillant sous les cieux !
Me voilà qui prie, “Ô,
Vous, beaux et puissants dieux,
Accordez moi cette eau
Vive comme les mots
Qui coule sous mes yeux.”
.
Je suis pas tout à fait satisfait de celui-là, sûrement à retravailler plus tard.
Un des poèmes les plus frustrants à écrire jusqu’à présent parce que trop d’idées à caser avec une vision hyper précise de ce que je voulais…
Et je ne sais pas si j’ai réussi, donc doublement frustrant. Mais amusant tout de même, un petit défi très intéressant !
A bon entendeur salut ! ;)
.
Hey, you know, I don’t wanna be the secondhand,
The island you sail to once you leave the mainland,
You know, I don’t wanna be the carriage’s fifth wheel,
The one you think will help you forget how you feel,
You know, I don’t wanna be the candle bearer
The one who will become just another error,
And you know, I don’t wanna be the wanna be
I just wanna be me, the one you love, you see?
.
.
Le sourd torrent de la foule
Dans le noir se réverbére,
Jusqu’à mes oreilles coule.
Là, en silence, j’espère
Que sous les vives lumières
Ma confiance ne s’écroule,
Que point je ne désespère,
– Pire ! – ne perde la boule…
Car la volonté de fer
Qu’en moi distingue la foule
Se casse comme du verre,
Aisément se rouille, s’éboule,
Me prend en douce à revers,
Sous la si puissante houle
De tous ces regards sincères.
Si en ces lieux je me perds,
Si j’y plonge tout mon soûl,
Je suis tel pierre qui roule
Tant et si bien qu’enfin j’erre…
.
.
That which hurts the most is not your absence
‘Tis rather the opposite: your essence
Shining brightly, oh brighter than ever,
Just in my reach and were I to extend
My arm I feel I could touch with my hand…
But be damned this curse that I may never
Feel the soft warmth of your skin on my flesh!
Please let me be overcome by the fresh
Torrent of emotion flowing in me;
It is settled, no matter the reason
I’ll not battle this lovely enemy,
I long for the sweetness of your poison.
.
.
My heart is an ocean of pale moons and bright stars,
As endless as the sky and so, ever so, deep,
I surf upon a wave of dreams that need no sleep
Through an ancient forest of old and painful scars,
Oh the wonders there are, the gardens, the temples,
The great statues of gods to which men bend the knee,
The innocent flower that another tramples,
In the night a lighthouse casting hope to the sea,
By day always a tree reaching out to the world
And from its lively leaves a million tears rain pearled;
As hard as I may try I only see a few
Though none has caught my eye as beautiful as you…
I travel through ages, ages and ages more
Listening to the song, the universe’s score,
What I seek I know not, is it truth or freedom?
No. Neither. Oh Love, tell me where is thine kingdom!
.
Violet, indigo, carmine, teal, orange, ivory, red, ebony, are the colours of my lovely.
.
I have a million words
On the tip of my tongue,
Old, loud, beautiful chords
Just waiting to be sung,
Sadly they will all die
Upon my trembling lips,
– Unsteady, rocking ships,
Upon a stormy sea
That none but I will see –
As once more I shall lie
To cover up my heart,
Scared it would make us part
If you were now to learn
How much for you I yearn…
I could feel the tears well
Long before my heart fell.
.
.
Far from home I had flown,
Strangely I was not hurt,
I was in the desert
And thought to be alone
Bur there stood before me
In a young child’s body
The tallest, wisest man
That I have ever known.
He had travelled the span
Of universe unknown
To find the one answer,
The one from the old song,
– He wanted to know her,
For them to get along –
Of which song do you speak?
I asked to the blond boy,
The one that makes you weak,
The one that makes you coy…
He replied with a frown,
Perhaps recalling Brown,
The fox he had made friend,
The one who had shown him
That you can all surrend
On a pure, true heart’s whim.
I hope he kept the sheep
And that when he shall wake
He will with his rose weep;
Now he sleeps, said the snake,
And back home he has flown.
How he did not look hurt…
I was in the desert
Afraid to be alone
Now that lied before me
A young blond child’s body.
*
I cannot to this day
With pure certainty say
Who out of this pair wild
Was the adult, the child.
.
Doesn’t quite feel perfect but here goes…
.
I try to take to the sky
But my body is heavy
And my wings are too weary
To take me up there and fly
So in mind I float up there
Far above the cold nether
And towards the stars I stare,
Soul free from any tether…
Whether dream or my own truth,
Illusion or sweet nightmare,
I bask in eternal youth,
On, evermore worse for wear.
Perhaps one day we shall meet
In this night and starry street,
Once, perhaps, my lips shall part
And tale you all of my heart,
Perhaps in another age
I will gather the courage
To finally make you see
All the world you mean to me…
.
.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Love is not dead,
It still rings true.
Daisys are white,
Lilacs purple,
You’re in my sight,
So beautiful.
.
To her.
Tales of Ore 