Best Gris Poems
In vertigo of night, in their riddled trance
Boldness of petals melt on washed-out shades,
As faces etch a quiet gloom in varied hues
Capturing splashed oil, neutral and bright
While I gaze longingly at a portrait…
Man and wife , as if holding a child almost
Unseen …hidden through a float of blue-white.
Through dimming pain, a view lights up for a time
Where orange of moonlight quietly slips
Amid this rosette outburst and aching gray,
With blossoms strewn along pale candlelight…
How languid colors begin to mold my thoughts
Drowning in a pang of loneliness… I ask
In silence..are the couple ,the babe dying?...dead?
And the fusion of tender, lonely motif allows me
To weep inside, captive in a gasping moan... the kind
Which shapes a tone between life and elegy.
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Frank Herrera's Contest: YOUR PERSONAL BEST of 2016
Written 5/09/2016 Re-submitted 10/18/2016
POTD Awardee
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Inspiration from the painting, Les Amoureux en Gris
Artist: Expressionist, Marc Chagall ( illustration included)
London. A fourth floor hotel room. Nightfall. Lawrence Talbot.
misty blue moonlight
shirt in shreds silver sinew...
howling for the hunt
Bavaria. The edge of the Black Forest . Midnight. A Creature Named Adam.
from grave to castle
pursuing a perverse mate...
lightning my mother
Haiti. A fallow field off a dirt crossroads. Sunset. The Gris Gris Man.
lost Latin on the wind
fearful fugue for Godless souls...
resurrect the dead
Sleep well this night, won't you?
Aha Ha Ha Aha Aha Ha Ha Ha Ha....
Plötzlicher Nebel / Sudden Fog / Repentina niebla (Haiku)
Plötzlich dichter Nebel
Häuser verschwimmen in Schatten
Nur Lichter von ferne
A sudden dense fog
And houses blurred in shadows
Only lights in the distance
Densa niebla repentina
Casas en sombras borrosas
Sólo luces en la distancia
Schatten im Nebel / Shadows in the Fog / Sombras en la niebla (Haiku)
Schatten im Nebel
Vergehende Gestalten
Grau wie die Häuser
Shadows in the fog
Only some passing figures
Gray as the buildings
Sombras en la niebla
Sólo figuras que pasan
Gris como los edificios
Note: When I was walking in the streets to do some shopping yesterday evening there was a dense fog which inspired me to write these Haiku
Tali Karng : le Serpent du Crépuscule – Translation of W. Les Russell’s « Tali Karng : Twilight Snake » by T. Wignesan
(W.Les Russell, b. 1949 in Melbourne, joined the Royal Australian Navy – where he received training in photography – in 1965. He soon found himself at odds with the hierarchy, and so he requested and obtained an honorable discharge in 1970. He worked for the Education Department in Victoria for ten years as a photographer, and thereafter served on many levels on various aboriginal uplift bodies in Victoria and Queensland ; in the latter state, he helped to make the Aboriginal Mining Information Centre, according to Kevin Gilbert in Inside Black Australia, 1988: « …one of the largest indigenous research bodies in the world… », and says of this poem in English that it « shows a control and imagery far beyond the parameters of the majority of Australian poets to that greater universal level beyond country, beyond life. ») T. Wignesan, Paris, December 14, 2016.
Tali Karng : the serpent du crépuscule :
Dans le cratère se trouve le lac.
L’eau brun roux : peu claire profonde ;
Le lac froid : un lit des feuilles et des écorces
Déchiqueté raide le mur du cratère
Tous couverts gris vert imposants
Plantes alpines et Cendres de Montagne
Où des oiseaux délicats de plumage éclatant cabriolent
D’une branche à l’autre en chantant d’une voix douce
Jusqu’à l’arrivée subite du soir doré
Et :
Tali Karng : le serpent du crépuscule :
Est en train de chasser près des eaux du lac.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Aus grauem Nebel
Impressionistische Bilder
Der herbstliche Märchenwald
Dichter Nebel am Morgen
Birgt traurige Einsamkeit
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Out of gray fog
Impressionistic pictures
Autumnal fairy tale forest
Dense fog in the morning
Shelters only sad loneliness
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Desde niebla gris
Cuadros impresionistas
Bosque de cuentos otoñales
Densa niebla por la mañana
Salva sólo triste soledad
Trudging up a slate strewn track,
storm clouds gather.” Let’s turn back.”
As expected son slips over,
knee is cut, face like thunder.
“We should have turned left by the wall,
but, as usual you know it all.”
Two hours later find the path,
grimy rings around the bath.
Muddy boots line the hall,
grubby hand prints on the wall.
Sipping on some Pinot Gris,
his lordship states, “That was a breeze.”
“Tomorrow I want to reach that rock,
the escarpment at the top”.
Puts down her tea with Bergamot
“Do what you like, do what you want”.
Plasters on a mud face pack,
rolls her eyes and turns her back.
GRAY - For: Color My World - Nette Onclaud
by Patricia Lucas-Clarke
The roadside linden trees
Disperse their wilted blossoms
Onto grey asphalt
Abstract paintings in ochre and grey
Changing vision of natrure's great art
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Die Linden am Strassenrand
Verstreuen ihre verdörrten Blüten
Auf grauen Asphalt
Abstrakte Bilder in Ocker und Grau
Wechselnder Anblick der Natur
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Los tilos cerca de calle
Esparcen sus flores marchitas
Al asfalto gris
Pinturas abstractos en ocre y gris
Vista variable de gran arte de naturaleza
One day while fishing on the bridge,
I hooked a gorgeous speckled trout,
Reeled it in and pulled it out,
Carried home, stored in my fridge.
The trout it was prepared next day,
Two large filets cooked and eaten,
Flavor intense could not be beaten
By any chef, no how, no way.
With spinach green, tomatoes red,
Sautéed perfection in olive oil,
Potatoes piping from the boil,
A perfect meal left us well fed.
A glass of wine, a Pinot Gris,
Washed down the food with complement,
The nose? Fresh flowers, a lovely scent,
Pure vintage, two thousand and three.
Relaxed, forgetting all our sorrow,
After such a sumptuous dish,
I long to catch another fish,
To the bridge again, perhaps tomorrow.
2/3/2019 - Enclosed Rhyme Poetry Contest - Emil Pinet
quiero sentir tus caricias en esta tarde gris.
quiero sentir tu lujuria rosando mi ser.
anhelo el poder escuchar tu vos suspirando mi nombre'
tus dedos recorriendo mi cuerpo mientras la brisa me enchina la piel
Deseo hacerte saber como me siento sin el uso de palabra alguna.
una mirada profunda basta para que puedas llegar a mi corazon
y deleightarte con este gran sentimiento conocido como amor.
I'm stuck on a voodoo doll
she's pinned me, she's sinned me
stuck on steal within me
may be alike soul that's akin me
don't matta none, she's jus' in me
I thought she might be from Senegal,
or Haiti maybe - someplace that's all
but said she's from Timbuktu - who knew?
she's here in me now, that's all
it may be unseemly
to be stuck by this voodoo queen
yet she's all I think
she's all I want
at the mystic brink
her wiles she flaunts
I can't catch a wink o' sleep
can't eat a g-damn thing,
I only hunger for her
with her gris-gris talisman
she might be my punishment
or she might be my nourishment
maybe my African that's heaven sent
no matta - she's my voodoo who do
what I need to do - no matta want to be
I'm stuck on this voodoo doll - that's all
© Goode Guy 2013-12-11
for Aromas for January 2014 challenge:
"poem about a voodoo doll"
!No me ves! Ha perdido mi alma,
Alguno lugar en la escuela,
Posiblemente en los libros gris,
O en armarios que ha guardan
Los cuartos antipaticamente.
!No es verdadero! ?Por que, en
El lugar que estudiamos
Cosas preciosas, perdimos la
Que amamos la mejor del todo
El mundo? ?Puedes me decir por que?
Hmm, perhaps titled,
aye poem already didst aired
though revisiting said theme
downplayed as thoughts blare
though similar con tent
invariably communicated
sans, trademark pi Seine fishtail career
as applies to other questions,
this chap asks himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm'n weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely
a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence amber gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear
this penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
word ho seeking me own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile materiel undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,
and webbed woven semi colon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma own home spun faux
cambridge analytica gimcrackery defaced book best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest!
I Roundly Square Prayer...
Despite imprecations
yielding "FAKE" impact
upon the head of this atheist,
especially when thy
(untamable) shrewish wife
takes umbrage against this beast
tee boy up hoar excuse for a
husband precariously
bass (sic) lee perched
on a figurative
tightrope in creased
when withering tension (such as
chronic money woes
raises an ugly head
imploring a sudden cosmic deist
convert to pluck me
out this marriage well greased
with decades of vitriolic
verbal eminent amber gris,
where envisioning being swallowed
by Moby Dick haint half as bad
as incessant thrashing from spouse,
who expatiates, then gets cross
at this near expired dad,
when aye experience her
off fish shell reel
(hook, line and
sinker), where (when),
she looses (and loses) wrath
of Queen Kong sprinkling
unladylike cringeworthy
four lettered laced profanity largesse
(Sargasso Sea sunned)
favorite foul mouthed fad,
which "sailor blushing" gasp
finds me swallowing
hard syllabic retort (consonant
effe f**k hay shuss
m*th*r - f*ck*r) "EEE GAD"
bringing to ma mind, how parents
used to bad mouth me
(their only son),
when he hapt tubby
a passively aggressive lad
where booth me
late mum, and papa
got red red hot
poker (faced) mad
cuz, aye got born this way
at those accursed moments
futilely half heartedly praying
aware oye vey
knowing full well beseeching
divine alien abduction
all for naught!
Perfecto
Es aquel en cual no se enojaba
Aunque de palabras se llenaba, jamás las hablaba
Es aquel que jamás temía
Aunque talves lo sentía, jamás se imponía
Y eso yo admiro
Bello
Es cuando lo de adentro es más grande
Y lo de afuera se convierte en algo abundante
Es cuando toca sin tocar
Donde con solo su mirada se logre comunicar
Y eso yo lo siento
Brillante
Porque sabe que con amor todo sabe mejor
aunque el mundo sea blanco o gris alrededor
Oh rojo y amarillo, caminaba sin importarle el color
Donde todo su ser, su antonimia y su alma tienen valor
Y eso no tiene precio
Perfecto, bello y brillante
Son las 3 francés más importantes
Donde tú ser es más interesante
Porque para mi, eres un diamante
Dans une langue qui ne m'appartient pas
j'essaie d'y mettre la lune entière
son sourire à plein dents et sa lumière douce
les mots me semblent creux et pourtant
en chacun d'eux, une étoile filante
mes espoirs, tous gris, tracés, brulants
quittant ce corps courbaturé
un rêve s'échappe coincé
cherchant
un oreiller où se poser
celui de ton regard qui ne m'a jamais quitté
comment le retrouver
sans devoir fermer mes paupières
--TRANSLATION--
In a language that doesn't belong to me
I am trying to place the moon
It's full toothed smile and it's soft light
The words seem hollow and yet
in each of them is a shooting star
my hopes, all in grey, traced, burning
leaving this sore body
a dream escapes stuck
searching
for a pillow to rest upon
the one that is your gaze that never left me
How to find it again
without having to close my eyes?