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I am not doing my best
Nor putting my abilities to the test
I am gently cruising by
Living life as simply as a sigh.
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A little meta never hurt nobody.
EDIT 27/11/2017: changed first ‘simply’ to ‘gently’
Tag Archives: poet
Odette
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In and of itself, in the simplest terms,
Life is but a shelf on which we take turns,
How we have rusted away and faded,
Vessel not trusted with its mind jaded,
Escape while you can, fly, oh fly young fool!
Years of your lifespan flee before you, cruel…
Once you realize it is far too late
Under the disguise lies the true template.
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I have one but let yourself have yours.
Quête
.
J’erre et je cherche, sans but autre que mon but : trouver.
Je ne sais où il se cache, je ne sais ou le chercher,
Tout les éclis virevoltent sous la hache
Qui prépare l’immense bûcher.
Mon cœur sait où elle se cache
Mais à jamais je ne peux qu’en rêver.
Il faut continuer à avancer, à tourner en rond,
Il faut continuer à chanter, à sourire et à rire sous
Le masque de mes pensées, de mes envies, de mes espoirs,
Je ne sais que vous dire,
Je ne sais que penser,
Pour moi le mystérieux élixir
Ne sert qu’à faire danser
Les imbéciles et les sots, les oublieux et les fous,
Et pourtant je m’élance et pirouette dans le vent
Mon esprit aussi fébrile que volatile
Alors que mon cœur va de battement en battement
Éclipsant même le plus sourd de ses grondements
A la recherche de cet El Dorado, cet Atlantis
Qu’un royaume d’araignées et de Maures tisse
M’emprisonnant.
Je n’ai jamais été aussi libre, aussi vivant,
Alors pourquoi sens-je ces chaînes à mes pieds ?
Que ne voudrais-je aller de l’avant,
M’offrirait-on une aventure qui me sied ?
Je ne demande ni ne supplie,
Marchant sous le Soleil et les étoiles,
Seul mais pas solitaire, toujours vers l’horizon,
La Terre comme mère et de paire avec la Lune,
Et lorsque je me perds je recherche la mer
Du haut de la plus haute dune
Elle seule fait taire de son goût sel amer
Le souffle de mon âme qui mugît de douleur
Sous les coups de la lame aux mille-et-une couleurs.
Cette quête éternelle s’achèvera un jour
Lorsque les doux pétales
Du rosier blanc de neige
Toucheront le sol et quitteront l’air…
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Assignement: Ars Poetica
Fugue
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When I will be old, in my neighborhood
There will come a car with Time at its wheel
It shall maybe slow down but never stop for good
And as it drives by I will stare boldly,
No matter what I think, no matter what I feel
Because it will pass and never remain.
His hair neatly combed as he smiles coldly,
An immortal king looking upon its domain,
Immoral being, eternal seductor,
And when the rumble of the engine subsides,
When comes the final wave of this conductor,
Not even the moon shall command the tides
But I will stand there, in my neighborhood,
Where all my ancestors before me proudly stood.
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“Write an untruth about yourself.”
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.
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Poetry with a secret: “I have had plastic surgery done.”
Not sure if I’m completely satisfied of that one.
Pharaon
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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.
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Référence, référence, quand tu nous tiens.
Apology
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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.
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A musing.
Hello
.
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…
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The script for this particular piece has yet to be written…
Sleepless
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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
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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…
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Live. Die. Repeat.
Tales of Ore 