Best Mon Poems
He rides laughter like he owns it
exclamation marks
exhileration online
Mon chevalier galant
who uses music for shield
pen for glaive
Who writes warmth
through cold white days
and sometimes silence
He'll walk out of his books
mon d'Artagnan
to conquer me...
... he thinks. But has forgotten
que je me suis rendu
il y a longtemps
***
Copyright © Darren White
January 24, 2017
My love, I cherish
Your words
Your thoughts
Your soft lips
My love
I cherish the walks
The soft winds of fall
le jardin, L'eau
The flowers in bloom
The cafes and cloudy skies
Madeleine, columns of the past
Your eyes, holding on, to the last
The streets so vibrant, your touch at my side
And as we stroll along life's garden paths
Your soul sings in silence
Paris at last
Oh, my…oh…my sad heart’s bang on broke,
Bidding adieu, to my lover, a sweet bloke.
A tall, brunette sailor, going back to the sea.
In duress, I moaned, what’s to become of me?
Without his eyes, the deep color of the sea.
And his tanned ,muscular arms to encircle me.
I rested my arms on the railing, as his ship pulled away,
Knowing, I’d recall this moment forever and a day.
Come back, come back, dearest sailor of mine.
To love me once again and stroll in God’s sunshine!
4/24/2023
WHOA!!!
I say loudly
As she passed me by
Girl,
You look like Marilyn Monroe
Glamorous through my eyes
Her shirt was black
With spaghetti straps
And a white tee underneath
Tight beige pants
Turning heads, causing cramps
I hear someone grinding teeth
OH,
That's me!!!!!
Jared Pickett......09'
Un poème pour mon pays
Chère patrie
Le berceau de races
Vous êtes parmi les nombreuse
Avec une grande diversité de vue
Dans ce mulâtre des langues occidentales
Oh grand triangle!
Tu te lèves et te couches
Comme les marées océaniques
Dans ce beau paysage
En patois et en cultures
Dis-moi que tu n'es pas corrompu
Refuse la discrimination raciale
Pays de paix
Rivière de crevettes, Afrique en miniature
Oh Cameroun mon beau pays !
S'il vous plaît nous
laisser seuls déjà
Nous en avons assez de vous
Vous avez consacré votre temps
à nous harceler
Veuillez simplement nous
laisser tranquilles maintenant
Vous avez fait tout son
pour nous intimider
Votre obsession avec moi
est dangereuse
Veuillez simplement nous
laisser seuls
Surtout s'il vous plaît laisse
mes enfants seuls
Merci'
"when the Gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers"
--line from the film "Out of Africa"
She stopped, transfixed, a breathless
butterfly pinned to a board, and she said,
"That is So beautiful!" Then, turning
to her husband as they stood in my kitchen
before an aerial photograph of L'Ile de la Cite'
shaped like a ship in the beating heart of Paris,
(young Yuppie wife of entrepreneurial architect
who owned half the houses on the street
where I lived), she asked with pleading eyes,
"Could we go someday?" Knowing the appetite
for that which lies beyond Beyond: Paris,
La Cite' Emeraude, or wherever is the personal
Shangri La, I wished I could have shared
what I've known: a second floor apartment
in an historic building in the 12th--its
circular staircase royally carpeted in red,
enclosing a tiny lift, depositing us
to a storied paradise, its rooms extending
beyond glass doors of an antechamber into
a formal salon, two stately bedrooms
with balconies, and a "bureau," birthplace
of poems, diaries of dreams, and in the interior
courtyard beneath our common windows,
open to the Paris bleu, a caged canary sang,
lusting for open sky in mornings filled
with the perfume of freshly baked pastries
and baguettes from the patisserie below.
Once, I was besotted with a man who told me
after lovemaking, "I never knew how
much yearning you needed." He divined this,
and for a time he fed that soul hunger in me, so
that it was hard when he left, and they always leave.
Ships seeking harbor, leave in their wake
a yearning in the corners of your life, which will
surely bring back Paris and everyone you have ever
loved, which will somehow, somehow, against
all odds, satiate the supplicant heart.
My Second Vow
What I see when I look at your face
Is a reason for believing
And in your eyes, the hope I find
Is what my heart is cleaving
There is no right or wrong
'Cause the future is elusive
But our love, Is always strong
Though sometime seams abusive
I love you dear, forever
The Saints know this is sure
So my spirit shall endeavor
To be Knocking at your door
And if you go, or I go first
There is no need for sorrow
'Cause just like yesterday
I will seek you out tomorrow
A true friendship is the place you go home to
When peace you cannot find.
It keeps a part of your soul
And is never far from your mind.
A true friend will forever forgive you
And never count how many times.
They will teach you how to
Make limeade when all life gives you is limes.
When you are hurting in your own little hell,
No matter how far you may stray,
The truest of friends who knows you so well,
Will always know exactly what to say.
My Recurrent Dream, Translation of Paul Verlaine's Sonnet : Mon Rêve Familier
I'm often subject to a strange and invasive dream
Of an elusive woman whom I love, and who loves me
And who at every encounter might not the same be
Nor altogether another be, yet forbearing in her love seem.
For knowing how my open heart laid bare will confirm
How for her alone it beats, helas ! I can breathe free
Yes, for her alone, the paleness of my brow dewy
She alone knows how to relieve, her tears stream.
Is she a brunette, blond or russet ? - I ignore.
Her name ? I recall it sounds sweet, echoes in the ear
Like those of lovers Life puts apart.
Likewise her looks, the gaze of statues,
And, as for her voice, distant and calm, and the art
Of the gravity of cherished voices long since mutes.
© T. Wignesan - Paris, December 1, 2018
I once had a friend in College,
who was a young man named Fred.
He had a funny crazy habit,
of making certain utterances in French,
to pretty girls he hoped to conquer.
One day he met his match in a lady,
who disgraced him without intention.
On that day, he walked up to the lady,
'Bonjour mademoiselle he greeted'
The lady was so happy,
'here now is a brother,
qui parle Francais beaucoup' she thought.
She answered him with an alluring smile,
Ah, bonjour monsieur, je suis content
que vous parliez Francais
Mon ami was now in a hot soup,
when he knew the lady was no novice,
in what he knew nothing of any use.
The lady rattled on like a parrot,
and asked my friend 1001 questions.
My friend was only smiling like an idiot,
in front of the lady he thought of conquering
I had an ache from series of laughter,
as I watched the unfolding drama of a rascal
who wanted to use what he never had,
to make a fool of some of his fellow men.
10th August, '12
Mon ami-- my friend (male)
Bonjour mademoiselle/monsieur---- good morning Miss/Mr
qui parle Francais beaucoup -----who speaks French very much
Je suis content que vous parliez Francais-- I am happy that you speak French
LES PAROLES DE MON
AME!
Il faut que je reste
fidèl à mon âme
Meme si que tu pense
autre chose à l’âme
J’aime
chanter,jouer,danser
avec ta voix !
J’ai besoin de ton
souffle pour
éclairer ma joie !
C’est simple pour
toi,pense à moi ;
Ici,c’est mon âme
qui parle avec toi :
“Il dit que j’adore
cette oiseau blanche
J’arrete a
palpiter,si son
front se pench
Je trouve le monde
sombre et béni
J’avais qu’un
souci,ta perdre et
fini !
La grâce emplit tes
yeux comme bijou ;
Comme l’éffet de ton
sourire ingénu !
Je lis ton regard
qui s’égaye au
mienne
J’écoute quelqu’un
dit :c’est trés
bienne !
En tournent j’ai vu
quelqu’un imvisible
C’était Don
Juan,murmure
impossible !
En ce moment j’écout
une autre personne
Il parle dans mon
âme comme dans sa
maison :
« Ami !pourquoi
contemplez vous sans
cesse ?
Le jour qui fuit,ou
l’ombre qui
s’abaisse ;
Quitte le
ciel,regard dans ton
âme ! »
Quand j’ai vu la
haute,precissement ;
J’ai connu cet
homme,c’était
Victor.H directement
!
En disparent dans la
nuit,il ajouta :
«Aime,à fin de
charmer tes heurs !
A fin que tu voit
dans ses beux yeux ;
Des voluptés
intérieurs
Le sourire
mistérieaux ! »
J’ai jetté des
bruits étranges dans
les aires
Personne ne repond
;j’étais dans désert
!
Maintenent mon âme
cri et pleur ;
Je pense que c’est
assez d’écouter de
mon coeur !
Il suffrit du fils
des grands douleurs
C’était ton
amour,souriant dans
mes pleurs !
Moein -DU LUNDI 16
AU MERCREDI 18
NOVEMBRE 2009
Mon amour – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s « My Love » by T. Wignesan
Me posséder ? Non, je ne me permets pas
L’amour que les autres connaissent,
Car j’ai épousé une cause:
Je me prive de tous loisirs de finesse.
Vous voulez me posséder toute entière:
Mon corps, mon âme et mon esprit;
Mon amour est réservé à mon peuple
En premier lieu, et puis l’humanité m’a pris.
L’entité sociale, celle qui désigne mon Moi
J'y ai renoncé depuis des lustres;
Ma vie est vouée au service des autres,
Aucun homme ne peut la ravir en maître.
L’intolérance des blancs m’emprisonne,
Des insultes et le mépris à me contraindre,
Je me dois d’être libre, je me dois d’être forte
Pour pouvoir lutter et les vaincre.
Car il y a des injustices à rectifier,
La malveillance des hommes à supporter,
C’est un long chemin, un parcours de solitaire,
Mais, Oui, le but est sûr et salutaire.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
In Scotland the reindeer arrived at a canter
And Rudolph gave Santa some humorous banter
His outfit was red
But sat on his head
A bright ginger wig and an old Tam O’ Shanter
25 November 2022
Contest: A Funny Christmas Limerick
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
musical expressions - feelings,lost for words