Best Noire Poems

now ...

dance for me …
eyes of polished onyx pierce
me like the keen edge of a scalpel,
deftly wielded ...
the blood of my black
heart flowing in and...

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The Devil's Dead Roses
A prelude to the Bete Noire 

Please stop Please stop
Don't look at my face
Please stop Please stop 
Don't look at my face....

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translation below


Noir
Le noir, la nuit,rêves vides
Tu n’a jamais vu la noirceur comme moi
Le matin, tu te réveilles inlassablement
Le soleil, la pluie, un autre jour
Vous existez,...

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Bete Noire

What is this
What is this coming at me
What is this coming at me
Stop this coming at me
Stop this coming at me
Take it off
Just take...

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Bete Noire

What is this
What is this coming at me
What is this coming at me
Stop this coming at me
Stop this coming at me
Take it off
Just take...

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Rapturous youth and tranquil prime, 
Withered with a weird dream.
I was compelled to enter a realm bete-noire,
That of Stephen Hawking, O dear!
Despite the 'black hole'...

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STAND WITH A FACE OF HUMILITY

Thou curse a great angel to fall 
from the heavens of glory and power,
though let man build towers for himself...

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From 2010. Narrator is Robert Gibbs, snooty White House Press Secretary.

Lay, O Lord, a curse on press men, rude and churlish, sad, obsessed men 
Who...

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Dans une teinte
rose
la vie explose
L'arbre frémit sous son écorce
noire
Comme des vaisseaux sanguins
qui s'agrippent au foie
ses branches serpentent
s'écartent et s'emmêlent
pour atteindre le ciel
et ramener de la...

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Since the bloody Battle of Hastings
When 'Arold got killed by French Bill
We've seen an endless invasion of French
And I've just about had my fill

Don't we...

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Les Protecteurs – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “The Protectors” by T. Wignesan

(Note: Oodgeroo never claimed to write poetry à la manière des poètes occidentaux; she...

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"Tsundoku Tower"


Bluebird windowsill
peers in, strange terrain
“Rain Rain Go Away”,
mysterious singing 
eerie refrain.
Ghost Girl sitting still
tears falling 
she is haunting 
Tsundoku Tower 
laying vacant 
on Treeless...

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There he is again/searching...
for me - the object of his disdain/
his bete noire

Looking at him through the facets of my vision...
- He is a hulking...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s Courbet: Elegy 8 by T. Wignesan

Blanches oeuvres ouvertes
résident dans les jours
la surface du banc de travail est noire
les géraniums-lierres
les fougères et...

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Mama – Translation of Kevin Gilbert’s « Mum » by T. Wignesan

Kevin Gilbert (July 10, 1933 – April 1, 1993) - father of Irish-English ancestry,...

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