Tag Archives: soar vandergeid

The god of the forest

Posted on by under Poetry

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When he awakes from rest,

The god of the forest.

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Can you smell this perfume?

The sweet and pleasant scent

Rising up as a fume

As we make our descent.

Keep your mind to yourself,

Breathe in and count to six,

Watch out for the dark elf

And let him not play tricks;

Come, we must not cower

Before this land of night

Where day has no power,

Where awaits unknown fright.

Oh but I feel no fear

For I am by your side,

Only doubt: can you steer

Any danger aside?

Trust in us, we have gained

The blessings of the god

Of the forest who, pained,

Has given us this rod

To find our way safely

To the land of the free.

Friend I trust you greatly

But under the sky tree

Where we received our gift

Did you not see upon

The face of the World’s son

A dark shade ever swift?

What speak you of dear fool,

Has all your faith vanished?

We were given this tool

To defeat the banished!

This is our sole mission

And we shall not retreat!

My faith and my passion

Are indeed still complete,

It is this place of dread

That, of my whole being,

Has now taken ahold…

Worry not of the cold

Neither of not seeing

For soon you shall be dead!

Said a voice in the dark

As raspy as old bark…

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Traveler

Posted on by under Poetry

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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.

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The road

Posted on by under Shorts

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Six months, three weeks, and four days, I have been on the road. More than half a year. Walking along the white line without any real goal. Almost wandering aimlessly. Not even knowing where I am. The wild. A beautiful place, the wild. A never-ending, silent world without any sign of human presence. Well, except for this old road of course.

The great plains surround you on almost every side. And in the distance, the mountains. Tall, dark and intimidating. Like a horizon they never seem to get closer. Or don’t want to get closer. In the sky either a blazing, burning sun or a grey veil of immobile clouds, as if the heavens themselves were dead. Nothing else in your field of view for a thousand miles, only you and the road.

So what do you do? Well, you walk for one. You walk and you walk more. You follow the road on and on, hoping to reach something or someone. Sometime, eventually. So you walk some more. You get tired, you get exhausted, so exhausted your legs won’t move or stop shaking. You get angry, you shout and yell at the sky, the mountains or the road until your voice becomes hoarse. Then you start running. You run as fast as you can, until your lungs start burning and you are overcome with dizziness. You get desperate, almost surrendering to this wilderness that looms all around and is always watching you. And you walk some more. But you never get anywhere.

So then, what do you do?

You start to think. You think about how warm the wind is, about how blue the sky has become. Then it starts to get deeper, it becomes more personal. Why are you here? Where is here? And then, later still, you begin to wonder if you’re not going crazy. You begin to reflect on who you are, to wonder who you are… But questions always come more numerous than answers. Who are you really? Why are you walking? Where are you going? Where did you come from? How long has it been since you’ve begun your journey…? Since you last ate…? And then you start to count… One, two, three days…

Six months, three weeks and four days…

Cinquante-et-un

Posted on by under Poetry

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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.”

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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 ! ;)

You know

Posted on by under Poetry

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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?

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En scène

Posted on by under Poetry

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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…

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Cursèd

Posted on by under Poetry

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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.

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In a sea of stars

Posted on by under Poetry

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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!

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Colours

Posted on by under Poetry

Violet, indigo, carmine, teal, orange, ivory, red, ebony, are the colours of my lovely.

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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.

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Antoine

Posted on by under Poetry

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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.

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I cannot to this day

With pure certainty say

Who out of this pair wild

Was the adult, the child.

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Doesn’t quite feel perfect but here goes…