Mirror mirror


Once the mirror reflected

A sight not unkind to me

But my own mind deflected

The years as an enemy,

My soul did no speak the same

Tongue that my body practised,

No one else had yet noticed

But it brought on worlds of shame,

I could feel that I would drown

In this heavy bleeding gown

So became a smile my frown

As I shifted upside down.


Poetry with a secret: “I have had plastic surgery done.”

Not sure if I’m completely satisfied of that one.


A Duet With Life

Worry not my friends for this post will not be as long as the one from earlier today, I simply wish to bring new of a new era in my poetic writings for, as you may have noticed if you have been stalking this website’s pages (Ha! As if anyone would do that…), I have added the page containing the poems in the new part of my collection.

After A Ballad For Death, let me introduce the second part, A Duet With Life, which is officially available for consultation and avid reading as of right now!

However, where A Ballad For Death was more of a challenge of quantity – sometimes over quality – where I set myself the task of writing each day for a year and a half, A Duet With Life shall be more free in its completion as I will write poems when they come to me. Perhaps that will be as often as one a day for periods of time but perhaps not, it is not the goal this time.

There won’t be much change in themes or inspiration, it will mostly be a continuation of my poetic wanderings but I do truly hope you enjoy reading them as much as you have in the previous era and as much as I enjoy writing them!


Finally, before leaving you for the evening, I want to answer the main question that would surely be asked to me if ever anyone was interested in this: why choose those two names? Is there any significance behind them? Well, the answer is: probably. I don’t really know why I chose A Ballad For Death, the most likely answer is that it partly came to me randomly, I was looking for a title with both a good power of evocation and meaning to me (a link to my writings).

And, though it may surprise you, death it actually one of the very recurring theme in my poetry, as is the act of dancing (in the lexical fields I use, in the images I play with and in the way I play with words, I dare say I [try to] “dance with words), and poetry is a form of lyrical oral art so it somehow fit perfectly. As for the second part, A Duet With Life, well, again, important themes, my way of playing with words and  contrast with the first part…

Now, if everything goes according to plan, this will not be the last part of my poetry and the next one(s) also have names that are connected and already planned!

Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself and talking (or rather writing) way too much so I will leave you here, enjoy and see you later!

PS: a new poem coming tomorrow!

Schrödinger’s poet

Don’t dead, open inside.


Schrödinger’s poet or why I haven’t posted anything for a week.

The tl;dr and obvious/easy version of what I am going to say, e.g. the short one, is that I needed a break from writing for a while.

Now that this is out of the way let’s proceed to try to decrypt why I needed such a break and what it meant (because, if it wasn’t obvious before, I will make it painstakingly so right now: I haven’t stopped writing at all this past week, on the contrary, I may have even spent more time doing so than per usual). So why make it seems like a break then? Well, that is where the title comes in: Schrödinger’s poet, a simple yet very effective wordplay on the expression ‘Schrödinger’s cat’, coined after the thought experiment of the cat in a box full of radioactive poison, cat of which, as postulated, we cannot know the state of existence without opening the box, it is therefore alive and dead at the same time creating a paradox. That is the point I am trying to make here: the paradox of being a poet for me.

What do I mean?, I hear you say. Well, it’s quite simple actually. The less I write, the more I write; the more I write, the less I write. What I mean by this is that while I was writing poems – one every day – I was so focused on that everyday that I had very little energy or motivation to work on any other writing project that I have. And with A Ballad For Death coming to an end recently I thought I would catch up on that ‘lost’ time. Weirdly however I found myself continuing on the same track and rhythm of one poem a day. Why? Because I had no idea what else to do to ‘replace’ this concept and I wanted to keep the site active. Also because I think I am not ready to share the rest of my longer writings yet, none of them are fleshed out enough to do that. And so I found myself trying to find a new concept, which didn’t come, and in the mean time having to keep on stretching the already thin line of poetic inspiration that was mine. I don’t mean to say that I have no more idea, motivation or passion for poetry, on the contrary, I believe it will stay a big part of my work for a long time, but writing a poem a day… is damn exhausting! I think it is time to let this rest in the shades of a closet at the back of my mind for a moment, I have exhausted all my energy following this challenge to myself and, although I am very proud of what I have accomplished, I believe I should try to move on, if only a little.

So what ave I been doing this past week? Well writing poetry (Of course! What else?!), working on my old writing projects, reflecting on what I could do and even trying to keep up with a new NaNoWriMo ambition (which failed pretty quickly as, for the third year that I participate, I found out it is not at all my rhythm or my way of working and I found myself losing interest quite quickly… – not in the story but in the writing process.). I have also been taking some time for me, to reflect, time to do nothing, time to do other things, but, most importantly, I have managed to rest myself from the constant demand of renewing my inspiration each day for a few days and it has been sooooo agreeable! I’ve actually been able to work on what I wanted to write for some time now, not what I felt I had to write or something I forced myself to write. Because even if I take great pleasure and love working on poetry, making myself write one a day even when I felt I should have stopped already was difficult and I could feel I wasn’t as invested as I should be, or at least not when I needed to be. And that is very annoying. So yeah, writing, thinking, planning, pondering. A couple new projects, a few old ones. Some good old passionate thinking which did a great deal of good to my writer’s mind.

But, what now? Well, I don’t really know… All this reflecting has led me to think that I had to change things a little, try new projects (even if they fail), perhaps take time to look at the site’s organisation, which I have been meaning to simplify for some time now… So yeah, a number of things. I will probably share a few poems in the days to come because I have a handful new ones that I believe you could find interesting, but I might also try something else…. Perhaps those short stories I talked about the last time, or those writing prompts and concepts I sort of began all those months ago and never actually took the time to continue… The main point is that I still don’t know exactly what I am going to do but I have a better idea of what I want to do, which is equally important. So, yeah, I don’t know, but I am here and I will keep on following my creative drive so just stay tuned and see you soon! ;)

PS: I apologize for the lack of clarity of this post, but basically I was a bit down recently, I took some rest and am better now. I am back to do things, perhaps not as often but more in tune with my desires?

PPS: Also, question to those who have written this all the way to the bottom (thank for bearing with me): what would you want/like me to do/write about here? Any ideas? I’m open!



D’abord il croit un rêve

Quand un doux vent se lève

Au dessus de la grève,

– La folie et sa sève –

Pourtant doute s’achève

Et bientôt le noir glaive

S’éfface et disparait

Au travers du velour

Si vieux pourtant si rouge :

Un voilier reparaît;

Le coeur en est moins lourd

Et l’espoir en corps bouge.


Référence, référence, quand tu nous tiens.



I am sorry to think of you in such a way.

That is a lie, you are a lovely mystery

I cannot help but gladly want to solve away,

At the sight, the simple thought; such sweet reverie…

You are such, my obsession. Wherefrom comes this sweet

Passion? I know not, from heart or mind or elsewhere?

I wish not to make you my own – I fear defeat –

How would I even dare hope to make you aware

Of what I think, of what I feel, of you, so fair…?

Your lively eyes, your playful hands, your fierce, bright hair,

Your sweet smile, melodious voice, your joyful presence;

To me you are a dream, a sweet evanescence,

An angel in my world, improbable beauty,

I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to say

A simple word of you would make my whole world sway,

Welcome anomaly in my reality.


A musing.



Oh what a wonderful greeting

To this long-awaited meeting,

So many words I wish to say,

So many hopes but, be what may,

I am in this moment, fleeting…


The script for this particular piece has yet to be written…



My eyes close, my pupils hurt,

Sleep is taking over,

Off I dose, with dreams I flirt

As I yearn for cover,

From my eye remove the dirt,

Five minutes, recover…

I am awake and alert!

I cannot help this loud blurt

Before I discover

The trace of drool on my shirt,

What is this crossover

Of shame and hangover?


Bit of funny fun fun. So tired though…

The owl’s lullaby


What a lonely lullaby

I can hear in these stories,

What a lovely lullaby

Washing away my worries,

The melody is simple

And the rhymes are nursing me

Into this unknown temple

Far away, across the sea,

Where the clouds are candy sheep

And the rain is chocolate milk,

Where the mind and heart can sleep

Wistfully in sheets of silk,

As the notes die in the night

In a million glowing streams

I still believe that I might

Somehow reach onto my dreams…


Live. Die. Repeat.

The last song


i stand as i once did many ages ago

i stand where it begun and i let it all go

all the colorful pains and too all the grey joys

all the bright loving fires all the icy hatred

in the end we are pawns we are all merely toys

in the hands of the fates in the hands of the gods

and all that is precious and all that is sacred

is thrown into the wind is thrown against all odds,

a lion’s heart is big but his teeth are cruel

a mountain and a snake can never measure up

to the ones around them or to one another’s

however when comes time for the two to duel

only one may prevail and drink the sacred cup

be they sworn enemies or be they sworn brothers


To a Lady of Veermeer eyes.