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Hortus
3 participants
Macadam :: MacadaTextes :: Poèmes
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Hortus
A kiss, it is like
A door suddenly open,
Sunshine in a room.
Ocean of love,
Wider than anything else :
Freedom can expand.
Kisses, like ripe fruits
In an eternal summer,
Ripe or over-ripe.
A garden is where
One can sit far from the world
and yet be in it.
Lessons from nightmares,
Some are bitter, some are sweet,
Lessons are lessons.
Birds fly together,
I do not check which of them
Is male, is female.
Like the sweetest wine,
Words are flowing and glowing ;
Bottomless bottle.
You could well go naked,
Says the servant to Tartuffe,
Without tempting me.
Poppies grow at will,
In a field, along the road,
On a heap of sand.
The flag of freedom,
The colorful rainbow flag :
Messenger of love.
To be king of trees
Did not please an olive tree,
When the offer came.
In a lover’s arms
Is more than natural strength,
Is a source of peace.
Music works for peace.
Some of us learn to play it,
Some learn to listen.
When out of this world,
We can make some sense of it ;
Distance makes us wise.
The fruit of Eden,
It was not a piece of meat,
Nor a bit of cheese.
Feeding our good dreams,
We may invent a story
Of good days to come.
שבת שלום
Rest, once in a week,
To better enjoy gardens
And the sky, above.
The light of candles
Is like an eye’s reflection
In the sea of Time.
When night becomes day,
Many birds in the garden
Offer short poems.
Planets are dancing,
An all the trees in the woods,
And clouds in the sky.
Just two loving souls
Going along, hand in hand,
Two clouds in the sky.
A dream, a candle :
Or the birth of a poem
In a peaceful mind.
The wind travels far
And remembers many things ;
A good messenger.
Walls can remember
And so can the underground :
And we learn from them.
Why do trees have leaves ?
Or should all times of the year
Resemble winter?
A door suddenly open,
Sunshine in a room.
Ocean of love,
Wider than anything else :
Freedom can expand.
Kisses, like ripe fruits
In an eternal summer,
Ripe or over-ripe.
A garden is where
One can sit far from the world
and yet be in it.
Lessons from nightmares,
Some are bitter, some are sweet,
Lessons are lessons.
Birds fly together,
I do not check which of them
Is male, is female.
Like the sweetest wine,
Words are flowing and glowing ;
Bottomless bottle.
You could well go naked,
Says the servant to Tartuffe,
Without tempting me.
Poppies grow at will,
In a field, along the road,
On a heap of sand.
The flag of freedom,
The colorful rainbow flag :
Messenger of love.
To be king of trees
Did not please an olive tree,
When the offer came.
In a lover’s arms
Is more than natural strength,
Is a source of peace.
Music works for peace.
Some of us learn to play it,
Some learn to listen.
When out of this world,
We can make some sense of it ;
Distance makes us wise.
The fruit of Eden,
It was not a piece of meat,
Nor a bit of cheese.
Feeding our good dreams,
We may invent a story
Of good days to come.
שבת שלום
Rest, once in a week,
To better enjoy gardens
And the sky, above.
The light of candles
Is like an eye’s reflection
In the sea of Time.
When night becomes day,
Many birds in the garden
Offer short poems.
Planets are dancing,
An all the trees in the woods,
And clouds in the sky.
Just two loving souls
Going along, hand in hand,
Two clouds in the sky.
A dream, a candle :
Or the birth of a poem
In a peaceful mind.
The wind travels far
And remembers many things ;
A good messenger.
Walls can remember
And so can the underground :
And we learn from them.
Why do trees have leaves ?
Or should all times of the year
Resemble winter?
Dernière édition par Io Kanaan le Jeu 19 Juil - 18:37, édité 1 fois
Re: Hortus
Je n'ai de goût ni pour les haikus ni pour le blasphème.
L'un et l'autre par leur forme lapidaire me semblent être des guillotines de la pensée.
Encore que pour blasphémer il faut avoir été croyant. Je te fais la grâce de penser que tu "ne sais pas ce que tu fais".
Mais quand même !
Nilo, ça c'est dit !
L'un et l'autre par leur forme lapidaire me semblent être des guillotines de la pensée.
Encore que pour blasphémer il faut avoir été croyant. Je te fais la grâce de penser que tu "ne sais pas ce que tu fais".
Mais quand même !
Nilo, ça c'est dit !
_________________
... Tu lui diras que je m'en fiche. Que je m'en fiche. - Léo Ferré, "La vie d'artiste"
Re: Hortus
N'éprouvant pour cette magnifique institution qu'est l'Eglise qu'un mépris confirmé, le blasphème a souvent plus tendance à me faire sourire qu'à me choquer.
Mais bon, il ne s'agit pas là de plus qu'un petit jeu de mot facile.
Mais bon, il ne s'agit pas là de plus qu'un petit jeu de mot facile.
Macadam :: MacadaTextes :: Poèmes
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