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imaginea utilizatorului Aranca

page de sable


mont saint Michel © NMP

l’ennui a ses ombres
mon âme du temps jadis
comme les enfants perdus parmi le grand désert
qui n'ont pas encore trouvé
le chemin du silence

l’ennui a ses ombres déchirées
qui découpent cette page de sable
à travers mon passé

c’est l’absence de moi-même

imaginea utilizatorului cfr

Poèmes sous-réalistes

Ex nihilo, Omnia

POÈMES SOUS – RÉALISTES

01.
A l’ombre de la lumière,
Lendemain se fait hier

A l’autre bout de l’autre bout
Rien se transforme en tout

Aux ternes feux de l’or-or
Même la Raison s’endort

02.
Passé minuit
Soleil lève luit

L’aube se fait nuit
Qui nous éblouit

Le froid nous cuit
Le noir blanchit

03.
Au petit matin
S’endort l’malin

A midi
On s’évanouit

imaginea utilizatorului cfr

Ainsi va la vie...

...vers nulle part

DOSSIERS D'AQUITAINE
POEME DU MOIS

Constantin FROSIN

MICRO-POEMES

Le Seigneur gaspille
Ses énergies: foudres, tonnerres
Grands vents et grosses pluies

Il pleut des larmes de saint
Sur notre enfer quotidien:
Largesse divine?!

Qui a parlé
De paradis terrestre? Il suffit
De vivre notre vie...

Le soleil se cache...
A-t-il peur des nuages? Alors,

imaginea utilizatorului Trinity

I do

do you follow rainbows to the end of the road
and pretend they end with a screech of the breaks
or perhaps you miss the train and convince yourself that
you were on the wrong platform or you were there just
waving someone goodbye
do you receive flowers from people you never loved
and your ‘thank you’ is the discorded key of a piano
in the middle of a concert
do you make someone cry and comforting them is a trembling hand
a surgeon never shows the world
do you etcetera your list of to do’s into a painted oblivion

imaginea utilizatorului Trinity

Costa's

(fictional tale of real beverages)

he sat at table number 9
she chose 10
their eyes never met
but only through the wall wide gilded mirror across the room
he thought her name was Faith
she guessed his was Luke
he took a sip from his mocha massimo every 41 secs
she guessed he was 41, slowly stirring her white-no-sugar earl grey
she wondered if the girl on page three of his 'Sun' was a blond, a brunette or a red head
he wondered what principle she's at in 'Why men love bitches'
they ate lemon and poppy seed muffins with small bites
his lips were firm

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