Best Crise Poems
bleach tastes nice
bleach tastes mice
bleach tastes spice
bleach tastes rice
bleach tastes dice
bleach tastes vice
bleach tastes slice
bleach tastes jesus crise
Mum’s courteous sprinkles denounced delusion cowardice.
And demented a destiny Willenhall to Bethlehem for life price.
But hallelujah brought my children forward for hallucination.
My partner mended her menopause to hale hammada action,
Harangue lumps machinations to overtrade a human slice.
Israel a stone heart land death flags a fear of attack or terrorism,
Lord Jesus Christ, a Jew, no Christian, who denied not spiritualism,
Jerusalem a market of God religions fried portions of innocence life,
A stone wall divided God’s death and birth in hands of criminalism.
How religions equal educationalist never spoke about are defaming crise?
My spirit walked with truth and faith to agree to pray for World Peace,
To plain problems to seed love and needs to iron religious crease,
The mountain of sands were pouring dishonesty and greed lees,
A sea is dying and remind ‘Death is certain’ Oh human why you tease?
The Upper Wealthy
It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
As still as if there is no air,
With strong heat that's too much to bear,
No withered shrubs to rustle by,
No birds would ever dare fly by,
The earth crise much but sheds no tear,
For it's left empty year by year,
Despite great oceans that are near,
It's pleas for rain they do not hear,
These lands where once fertile and green,
With lots of flora to be seen,
Nourished by waters from great lakes,
It served man and beast for their sales,
Twas oversuse that was its bane,
Soon dunes filled where waters had lain,
No more gold fields to yeild their grain,
With no men left it went insane,
Maybe these lands shall never rise,
What's dead is dead, so say the wise,
And though the sun smiles on its hide,
I mourn the plains where green lands died.
Translation of Eric Mottram’s The Cat Sat on the Mat, La chatte s’est assise sur la natte by T. Wignesan
(Unless I’m sorely mistaken, this’s EM’s first published poem: Poetry Magazine/Poetry Foundation, Chicago, February 1959, pp. 306-307.)
La chatte s’est assise sur la natte
Assise sur ses hanches de la souche de vin elle
Evoque la loi de trépied
Et elle lance son quatrième jambe
En la direction des parasites
La partie supérieur de son cou blanc: un habile
Petit coup obsessionnel de ses muscles fins
Le soleil se palisse. Des plats nuages font tourner
La voile brumeuse sous le ciel.
A la limite maniaque du pivot
De sa vibrante crise sans fin
De son grattement elle s’arrête et fixe son regarde
De ses paires d’étangs du sens aux teints vertes
Elle s’est enfermée en rejetant
Mon sens d’empathie pour son état de dépression.
Des marées précoces de la panique
Ravagent mes pores et secouent
Ma langue fatale pendant qu’elle
Reste tout bien protégée. Etendue à l’extrême
Dans des toiles tropiques hautaines de nerfs
Des grosses images se sont assises les jambes croisées
A l’intérieur de son crâne outré et absurde .
Une rose blanche ne peut pas croire
Que, moi, je l’ai vu désintégrer.
Des lianes s’adhèrent dans son coeur,
L’impulsion se montre sans même une parole.
Sa jambe obsessionnelle s’est sauté dès son coeur
Et le mythe silencieux en forme de bec
De son amour s’apparaît en se remontrant
Prenant entièrement pour proie le nez et l’aine
L’isotype* de Venus dans son sang.
(Note: * probably an error for “isotope”. )
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
douleur référée
donc le cœur apporte avec elle la tragédie
simultanée et pour toujours
un autre jour passe, une autre personne va par,
un autre ami a reçu, une autre personne meurt et
la douleur ne peut pas s'inscrire au plus profond de,
au lieu qu'il s'écoule à d'autres parties du corps
être responsable de maux qui ont fini, faites nous en ---
est-ce vraiment le cancer?
est-ce vraiment un accident vasculaire cérébral?
est-ce vraiment une crise cardiaque,
ou ont été ces tragédies atroces engendré de chagrin? ---
quelque chose en suspens,
qui fait écho ans plus tard
envoyer tremblements de terre à travers la structure
envoyer chocs foudre à travers le squelette
reste,
tout au nom de
notre nature humaine ridicule
tout cela au nom de notre
petites idiosyncrasies de l'homme
qui, inévitablement, il est plus difficile de survivre
peu importe combien nous essayons.
The stress and strain of the pulling motion
Pries the appealing eyes of twisted souls
Lost in a night;s occurance
Love once felt the hands of this distrought man
But broken dreams matched with anguish tell stories
Of a life once lived in blood
The edge marked the end of lies and deceit
And the bodies still lay faceless under feet
And the streets painted in blood
Now will, can you listen to me?
My whim must be met as I melt in the eyes
Death must grace her presence as she made him mine
The seat selected she sits in now
As the scarring rows the crowing of dawn
Your decision must be made
The planning of the long awaited stream
Prove their honesty, for the dead lie in piles
Uniform with the writings
I hold my truths present with the value
Reformed to the write and will of those breathing
Can I just pass on by?
Whispers loud to break the ear
crise no longer pain and hurt
the screams of the guilty
Suffer the pen in hand
Fight for free will and free form
Dastardly deeds follow the sick
The bastards stain my hand swith their blood
And love is proven once more
Hoje e sempre:
Cultive sementes!
Cultive sementes de superação
Use a terra da dificuldade.
Creia – para cada dificuldade,
Em cada uma,
Plante sementes da própria superação.
Hoje e sempre:
Creia –
As sementes existem em abundância,
Quanto mais dificuldades existirem.
Seja resoluta em seus passos,
flexível em seu trajeto
caminhe por onde ninguém passou – saia do congestionamento,
Creia:
Onde houver vontade, há uma maneira.
E assim,
Hoje e sempre
Em meio à crise,
Avance com ousadia.
AH!
Hoje e sempre:
Cultive sementes!
Mudou
Nos momentos
da época
tudo mudou
– tudo é crise!
Parece que as pessoas
aptas e zelosas
agora;
parecem determinadas
a se enterrar num
abraço mortal com
o momento da época.
Honra e Gratidão
Estes são os tempos
que tentam as almas.
Aquela pessoa
que faz o que faz
nos verões
e nos dias de sol vão,
nesta crise,
recuar do serviço.
Entretanto,
aquela pessoa que permanece
desde agora,
merece o amor e a gratidão
de homens e mulheres.
Hoje e sempre:
Creia – para cada dificuldade,
Em cada uma,
Existe as sementes da própria superação.
Hoje e sempre:
Creia –
As sementes existem em abundância,
Quanto mais dificuldades existirem.
Seja resoluta em seus passos,
flexível em seu trajeto
caminhe por onde ninguém passou – saia do congestionamento,
Creia:
Onde houver vontade, há uma maneira.
E assim,
Hoje e sempre
Em meio à crise,
Avance com ousadia.
Isto, sim, que é para nós!
Sonhar, imaginar e inspirar!
Crescer e prosperar!
Isto, sim, que é para nós!
edificar os planos
Inspirar para o trabalho,
Trabalhar, trabalhar, trabalha...
Creia:
Onde houver vontade, há uma maneira.
Creia:
Hoje e sempre
Em meio à crise,
Avance com ousadia.
Tristeza
Nos momentos
da época – tudo é crise!
Ficamos cheios de tristeza
ao se ver o
declínio de muitas pessoas,
mesmo aquelas que já foram aptas
e repetitivas
repletas de zelo.
Parece que as pessoas
aptas e zelosas
agora;
parecem determinadas
a se enterrar num
abraço mortal com
o momento da época.
Receita para superar crise – você pode
Superar crises;
Mostrar produtos mais vezes;
faturar muito mais
Ah! Como são atitudes difíceis.
Mas, fique atenta:
para cada coisa difícil que você realiza,
menos outras pessoas estão
fazendo a mesma coisa que você.
E, no limite disso,
todo mundo bate na sua porta
porque você é única pessoa
que entende o conceito “impossível”
ou que resolve o insolúvel.
Em tudo o que
você escolher,
faça porque é difícil,
não porque é fácil.
E assim;
Realizar o impossível
Fica uma questão de prática...
Corajosa
Cláudia,
coração corajoso,
distribui a cura,
cala a crise,
com competência
conquista
de gregos
a troianos.
Cláudia,
farol da farmácia,
faz do fraco
um forte.