Best Bord Poems

I can’t stop thinking,
That the earth is round, round
Like African women,
That the seagulls are white,
That dogs are crazy,
They bark at poets, writers,

I can’t stop thinking,
That the sun is a guitar
Who plays in the summer, in the blue sky,
That men do not love the saints,
That pear...

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I like turbulent things
storms that howl
in thundering winds
and cracks of light
that I can see in
I like mystery
and intrigue too
I like it eyes open
and looking at you
I like minds spoken
and sharing views
but when it’s firm
it’s just us two.
I like to push
and be pushed back
I like to...

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Translation of Marcel Moreau's " Je t'écris " by T. Wignesan

I WRITE TO YOU

I choose green ink to write to you
For Love does not prescribe any one hue
In the hope you might take shape
When desire seizes me agape

You, the enigma of my dreams
Come, meet me...

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The blue hour takes root ...

There is the dark wing of the steamer,
Which takes the open sea, and carries away its regrets,
Tiny passengers, waving handkerchiefs
And the seagulls passing and passing again.
Heavy rusty chains, in heaps on the edge of the quay,
Puddles where the clouds pass,
In...

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Gewoonlik is my boundaries sterk 
Word ek assigned deur guidance met a Engels'vlerk
My journey neem langer en my sielsnare word gevleg
My boundaries raak flexible en a unieke konneksies word aanmekaar geheg
A journey het ontwikkel in a vriendskap so eg
Dit gaan my verstand te bowe want...

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La Tombe d’arbre – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s « Tree Grave » by T. Wignesan

Quand-t-il s’était parti, notre défunt,
Au-delà pour le Monde des Ombres,
Pendant que nous poussions des gémissements,
Nous lui avons enrobé dans d’écorce d’arbres,
Et nous lui avons porté, en récitant
Notre chante de mort lugubre,
Vers...

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Childhood delight, if meant to be
S'mores-gas-bord, little choc-o-chips
A Peanut Butter-Jelly tree

Capri Sun, lil' pouches - hmm - see
Jumping rope, and hop a few skips
Childhood delight, if meant to be

Squirrels & birds, quickly, munch with glee
Tree-crow protects from bunnyips       ...

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The trenches are dug,
We gotta go, guys,
Defend our country,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak French,
On the other side of the Rhine,
They don’t speak German,
Sprechen Sie Deutsch ?

We gotta go, guys,
To die for a wheat field,
die for a mill,
To die for his children,
We...

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Da der Online-Bestellung erhalten Sie ein Vorteil , was Design, das Sie ausgew?hlt hatte in diesem Moment nur kaufen kann und niemand anderer kann anstelle von Ihnen kaufen Belstaff Jacke tragen jetzt eine gro?e Fangemeinde aufgrund ihrer Vision mehr komfortabel und stilvoll So Jungs jetzt...

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Whadidit usay?
A ale too far to sail on mar?
Ne’er too far for tha ner keday
And some kin jin us mestarar.

Neh join us there wit min an sord
to take dai in ur hansom handen.
We kanno come that way wid not a bord,
ni morro com Kig an...

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The borg reached out calling Mr. Ed.
He opened the eyes of his wired covered head…
and he groped me… sent a strobe to probe me
in my mind. I stood watching polite and in kind
wondering if he knows who I am…
To pick a brane that waves to...

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alth(ough) you
fore(go) the
quid (pro) (quo) &
free th(row) a bouteille de
bor(deaux),
it is most certainly jonathan (doe)
with whom you be(stow) the
(crow) that swoops o’er the
(plateau) in the same
area (code) as your gothique
cha(teau) & still you wouldn’t
(know) how to (show) someone filled up
à ras bord avec (woe)---
rather than...

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3Fabel6 
3Fabel6 
 
SPIDDERPartTwo 
 
Mercurious People 
 
The Charlaxandroidoneseven is eating solid food fuel for brain we fear here on 
Mercury in the pit that he will soon discover a way to BORDOGOEL us. Bordogoel 
is a magical word on Mercury it means much...

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Ime older then you . I hope you doent mynd.

Rilly fun 15 year olds are hard 2 fynd !

I put in 16 years, going 2 skool ,

I started as a jeen-yist .

& now , Ime just a fool ! 

Math wizzes like me ,

Git bord...

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The ship came like a flying horse, at an inexact time
Our brother-sailor, from the Pantheon of Poets, was on board
Jean Pierre Basilic Dantor Frankétienne D’argent
Who wrote, in haste, the last act
Happened to be miraculously on the port
He got on and left without speaking, without money
Without...

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