All posts tagged: Poetry

Aurora

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I wrote this while listening to the music “Aurora” by Ola Gjeilo, after questioning a personal experience as real, and I remembered seeing faint aurora borealis and questioning that and other unusual visions in the sky. Receive the light waves undulating your body Like a lullaby singing along The pathways of your nervous system It is real, for you and no one else That vision, you didn’t make it up You are the only witness of these lights The colors, as you perceived them, are unique To your biology, your senses, your life within and without Let them become part of you As we go into the night. Image source: pexels.com, https://www.pexels.com/photo/dawn-by-the-stream-26646276/

Beauty in the Mind

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A beautiful boy appeared From deep into memories of a time when Beautiful boys couldn’t be friends, Pulled apart by words insinuating Who they were should be hidden Deep into their young minds. The beautiful memory sank in a sea of denial Called the ordinary life, a mask To hide behind, until It became safe to retrieve And cherish. Remodeling the mind, Now free of insinuations, Beautiful thoughts rest Like dreams on soft pillows Keeping them unbroken and Protected from invaders.

Beautiful Boy

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My mind beelines to a time when Beautiful boys like us could play together Before they were made strangers and Wrapped themselves in protective layers My mind beelines to a Pride Sunday when I followed Your beeline to booths filled with people like us, With new possibilities ringing left and right As in a pinball machine, activating dormant feelings A monarch butterfly flew in our path like a guide To reveal our inner beauty My mind beelines to an imaginary time dimension When liberated from our cocoons we savor every minute Flying and fluttering together, As imperfectly as the monarchs in a monarchy Of two, taking turns at revealing a new leaf here, A new burgeoning flower there, On trees growing strong together with deepening roots My mind beelines to an old image of me When you captured my essence today Of the beautiful boy that had gone dormant For a long time until We found each other

musique et poésie (1)

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I’m starting this series today because I heard some learners of French were sharing poetry, and I keep a playlist of songs from mostly 50 years ago that I listened to back then, when I was young! 1- Les Feuilles Mortes This is a well-known song and poem by Jacques Prévert that you’ll hear translated as Autumn Leaves, however the translation leaves a whole lot of it out. So get the one sung by Yves Montand (French actor whom I remember from movies like César et Rosalie and Z). I don’t know if this link will work for Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/song/les-feuilles-mortes/1444874656 It was also sung by Juliette Greco, Edith Piaf, and many others. It’s a song about remembering happy days spent together on the sea shore (“et la mer efface sur le sable, les pas des amants désunis”), the fallen leaves an image for thoughts, feelings and remembrances that have since died out and that the cool wind from the north blows away. Or something like that… 2- Je t’aime, moi non plus This one …

My Words / Mes Mots

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My Words My words are like autumn leaves They follow the wind And seize a last ray from the sun To gather in my garden. Do I burn them? Or Let them work their seasonal way Into the ground, composting, Fertilizing my thoughts, Retiring in wintry silence? The sprouts of spring In my garden, announce Flowers, birds, and bees Words reworded Lines rewritten Paraphrased and edited And I hear, I listen to The rebirth of poetry. My words are like the summer leaves Invincible, solidly attached Basking in the sun Washing in the mist Dancing with the hummingbird: They have life! They aspire to be read, To be the voices in the head The sticky notes on a door That give you pleasure. I give you my words: They are to be planted In your garden. Mes Mots Mes mots sont comme les feuilles de l’automne Qui suivent le vent En recevant un dernier rayon du soleil Avant de tomber dans mon jardin. Dois-je les brûler, Ou Les laisser faire leur travail saisonnier Se décomposant …

My Rainbow

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There was no end to the rainbow being borrowed and altered in states of diversity. The rainbow offered a whole gamut of visible and perhaps even invisible color without judgment or interpretation and criticism. Sun rays coming on earth at high velocity bounced inside raindrops and ended their mad race on thin retinas, brain matter exciting brain waves floating around and avoiding concussion. I shut my eyes to keep the rainbow inside and make it mine, my own continuum of colorful ideas, hopes and aspirations. My rainbow, following the rise of my eyelids, gave color to a gray world nostalgic of its black-and-white era of gray dresses and gray suits and mustaches. There was no end to the rainbow, beginning here.  

It’s just an old sweater

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It’s just an old sweater of yours That I found In memories of our common past. Little did I know you would appear in a plastic box at the back of the closet. I thought I’d return it to you Wrapped in a cut paper grocery bag Write your name and the last address I have for you Take it to the post office, take a number, Ask for nothing special See it thrown in a bin full of other packages Should I include a letter? What would it say? I saw you receiving an unwanted package and a letter maybe, Throwing this sweater in a bin for Goodwill With all things from me, the past, this town. Your scent having long left the soft wool, Chased away by mothballs, I washed it in cold water and delicately Dried it flat and for a few days It lay near the back door The object of my curiosity, softer to the touch of my passing hand Until each of the threads caressed my arms and my …

Puzzle (revised November 20, 2008)

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There he is, dead, alone Silent and undisturbed And you think that’s how he wanted to leave it. You look above for signs of an angel Taking away his soul As in the image in catechism And you see the image of an angel Cleaning the slate of your soul Showing indelible cracks From your fall Causing eternal pain Causing unmanly tears always retained. Your head bounces on an aluminum locker Spins about unsaid words and questions, Fragments of life locked in forever, Mysteries unsolved Wanting of Faith and Honor. You venture the back of an index finger On his one-day beard Remembering lips prohibited long ago From the freshly shaven cheek Reserved for the good housewife Now watching your gesture And deeper you withdraw Into the heap of puzzle pieces That will never come together To complete your picture.

Departure (a revision of “Ashore”)

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The deserted pier floats away In silence And the town shrinks behind Soon a model in a museum Then blurred impasto Destined to decorate memories and The traveling theater of your dreams. For now there is only doubt In the silence of your mind For even the seagulls have left. You navigate on seas now calm then rough Counseled by ghosts and gods Against pirates jealous of your light purse Guided by the stars Confused by the clouds Siphoned by currents You reach A new port, outside your map Charming you with strange music To set foot on dry land Behind you the horizon Absorbed your history and silenced the voices of the past So far away now That you take a new name.

Ashore

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Ropes curled, neatly inside The disenchanted serpents of your skiff Floating away in the silence of a deserted pier The town shrunk to museum size Then blurred impasto Destined to memories and The traveling theatre of your dreams You navigate on seas now calm then rough Counseled by ghosts and gods Against pirates jealous of your light purse Guided by the stars Confused by the clouds Siphoned by currents You reach A new port, outside your map Charming you with strange music To set foot on dry land Behind you the horizon Absorbed your history and silenced the voices of the past So far away now That you take a new name.