Best Pour Poems
Note: In 1976, Richard Clayderman (real name Philippe Pagès) received a telephone call from a well-known French record producer, who was looking for a pianist to record a gentle piano ballad. Paul had composed this ballad as a tribute to his newborn second daughter “Adeline”. The 23-year-old Philippe Pagès was auditioned along with 20 other hopefuls and, to his amazement, he got the job.
O sweet Adeline, born eyes open
And a smile on her small lips.
O delicious child I heard her gurgle
As if she had heeded a joke.
A tune raced in his mind and
He knew it was urgent to put it on paper.
The babe made noises of joy
And the music echoed its tune,
At times it was repetitive
At times it sounded soft and sweet.
But soon the babe raised her voice
A repetitive mellifluous melody
Lulling the babe to sleep.
Dream little child, dream on
Would that you have pleasant dreams,
And may the Good God bless you forever.
Aimeriez vous une chevaline rouge
Composée de sucre d’orge?
(would you like a red horse made of barley sugar?)
Vous pourriez faire la race de
Plaines aux tires d’eponge.
(you could race across sponge toffee plains)
Vous amènera à un bosquet d’arbres
Faites de réglisses à la menthe
Ou des bariolé jujubes croissent au lieu de feuilles.
(would bring you to a grove of trees
Made of mint liquorices
Where multicolour jujubes grow instead of leaves).
For Debbie Guzzi's biLingual Poetry Contest
you wished for me to write something sweet, Debs:))
Washing away drab, dour and rotting elements,
falling rains cleanse our earth anew.
Sunlight returns to beam upon fresh, crisp nature.
I have begged the rain to pour newness on me,
but never does it heed my plea or grace my need.
Rain, I desperately beseech, please, as a cloud do burst
a purge of the thunderous fear, the stormy, stinging pain
and anxiety tidal waves continuously knocking me down.
The sun will never warm me with healing, soothing rays
if the rain never floods my concrete dam of depression,
freeing my life’s stream to flow with deep content.
Though the rain denies me relief, it keeps me company,
for its dark skies match my inner gray, dreary season
and give me proper reasons to shelter in isolation.
On rainy days, I may pretend that I’m part of life,
rather than a human drought of withering, mortal inertia.
I may even, fleetingly, allow myself to believe
the returning sun will spot the drenched me and,
in either mercy or love, revive, refresh and restore
my drowning, soggy spirit with rays of therapeutic warmth.
If only thunder would crack, roar and screech a demand
for skies to pour suicide ideology drops down in a loud,
rhythmic, lulling beat, such drops would, in time, evaporate
and I would realize the blessing of a true, deep, restful sleep.
Note: This is not a poem, just a riddle :)
Pour Juliette Girardot
Si vous me donnez 1000 essaie
Si vous me donnez 1000 valses
La réponse que je donnerai
Ca sera toujours la même
J’ai besoin mais une seule essaie!
Jacques Brel
La chanson "La Valse a mille temps"
Je pense qu'il n'y a pas un poème lyrique française, ou un poème, ou sonnet dans toute la République française, que je ne sais pas!!!!
Maintenant, une énigme pour vous!
Je suis un Steak
Je suis originaire de Bretagne en France
Je suis le père de la romance
Je me suis cassé le bras à Niagara Falls au Canada
Mais je suis mort, un pauvre homme à Londres
Les paroles que je parle
Sont d'outre-tombe
Qui suis-je ?
I shall not fear of parching for your drop or two is enough
Even a tear would quench more than my lip, my soul
Cry me thrice, laugh me once
Leap more, tiptoe less
Break this earthen vessel if you wish
Just don’t leave a love song behind
For it will just maim a hollow tune
Like a broken violin in incandescent moon
Or a lone shell perpetually humming
The melody of his unmet clam or hermit.
POUR SOUL
Shivering and naked,
Crying,crying and its in the night,
Mamma and poppa happy for the new born,
Earth and heaven celebrating for the new guest,
But the guest got the danger ahead.
You bastard,you ain't my blood,
Go die in another place and live my blood alone,
Stupid and foolish son of a whore,
Die now or tomorrow i don't care,
Sit in that corner,
Never come near my family,
You understand bastard?
Am not your mother,never will be,
Want the family heir,hope you won't get it.
Stop you snake and thief,
Live on streets,
Sleep in your own house,
Not my compound and near my children,
Wandering around the rubbish is my wish for you,
I curse you till the end of your days,
Wish heaven and hell don't take you,
You rascal and idiot,
My blood not worth to your blood,
Live another life but not hear in my presence.
Pour your heart out
Pour it and see
Something inside
That is longing to be
Something is ripe
Something you need
Something you planted
Is going to seed
Love is the garden
That grows in the heart
Plant it and share it
To make a fresh start
Sweat is the swagger
That waters the weeds
Love is the kindness
That everyone needs
Water your garden
With love everyday
Flowers are blooming
To show you the way
Love is the choice
To be one with the Earth
Pour your heart out
For a peaceful rebirth.
I am dead to many, a few are dead to me.
I am forgotten
by young women in green silk sarongs.
Some of the dead have taken vows of silence
lips forever sealed with amnesia.
I have fished Koi ponds for the sun,
drunk the passions of dreaming girls
as if they were my own.
Now I am an old man,
I sip the jasmine
as if it were a blood memory,
yet mind shakes
with a more than timid palsy.
Ring the temple bell once more for me,
I loved them all
and you can keep your pallid pity.
The dead pour me out like green tea
and if I were just a ghost,
just a thought once placed
upon a damp bamboo mat,
I will take that.
Pour love everywhere
Veer fairy lilies gently
Thrilling spring’s beauty
Plant white carnation
Daisies are chanting “Holy”
Freeing harmony
Pour love everywhere
Palm branches cuddle lily
Wine is spring’s honey
Plant dwarf gladiolus
A rosy crown is homey
Fairy’s sketch pretty.
By: Nadia Shahwan. This poem "Pour Love" won an honorable mention in June
2009, then became the winner in January 2010.
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Everything is fine.
When we pour the wine.
All the grapes.
From a very fine vine.
A glass for me.
A glass for you.
A glass for anybody.
Who ever wanted to..
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Open the gate.
Our cellar is great.
We gotta find time.
To pour the wine.
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Burgundy! Chateau! A Cabernet!
A Cabernet on the bay.
With a girl named Rene.
So open the gate.
Our cellar is great.
We gotta find time.
To pour the wine.
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Pour the wine!
Wine Cellar Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2007,2014..ALL rights reserved..
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 !
POETRY POUR
Tangled and tailored mind mines
yielding schemes of lyrics chants.
Epic cadence aide memoires
as fragments inked to stelaes
beginning poetry birth..
Canons animated germs
sprouting better verse meiosis.
Struggles ravel block strong concepts
among rituals to bonny
fountain penned poems.
Tragedy and comedy paint
drama portraits. Infused too
are muses displaying unique styles.
Variance spells beauty and magic
Freedom of speech spread in cruise.
Now... Anything experience
by the senses may cradle
lashing wreathes of new verses
Awaiting! Just awaiting
to be written and told.
A pen and paper at hand
or ipad to scribble words.
Conceiving poetry
to be labored on and on.
Beholding and moving man!
Author one, two, three and more.
Don't hold back! let it go!
Capture this one through...
Make it happen! Let it flow!
A RAINING POETRY POUR!
________________________________________
10: 24pm
September 19, 2014
Seemed too shy-
To articulate
In flash,
She squealed
Beyond phoning:
The business between us-
Is agonizing,
Search for bona fide,
A suitable beloved-
"Pour tous les jours"
Hang around!
Do not kill the whole toy.
Regarding these words
I will answer:
“Long time ago,
I did not think of you.
Initiatory,
I disliked this affair”
Seemed too shy-
“Pour tous les jours”
I’m not the one,
Who dare to ran
After statues,
Asking or crying before –
“You are so precious”
Has been untold -
Where were you?
Falling worthlessness!
And wasting of energy
Seemed too shy -
“Pour tous les jours”
I suppose,
This is your temperament.
You do not have a heart.
Unaware of how passion
Looks like -
…
Few words
For consideration:
“I have never cared”
If you couldn’t dig up the point,
Keep knocking at my door,
I’m going to teach,
Having much time to play –
Toujours…
Holding over
What about the dead?
What about the alive?
What about the rebirth?
Too shy to talk about
***
~By M'hamed Kanour__Email: medkanour@gmail.com~
Red lights in the western window
Five hundred feet and counting
The continuous pour
Of 1975 or was it 76
Appearing over the hill top
Like Kilroy
Only still here
The pipes bringith
The pipes taketh away
Gas in exchange for steam
Steam in exchange for power
Power in exchange
For someone else's money
While the left over smoke
In exchange for clean air
Blows up the chimney
Workers voices
Like Bill Baker
(He was our neighbour
In seventy one until he
smoked his last)
Echoed through the pipework
Put together then
Now slowly taken apart
The only noise left
A low hum
Generated
In some other place
The sky swallows days..
Exploding colors pour out..
A cool breeze sings low..
"Haiku me some nature,please"
a constest sponsored by Constance
wriiten by Michael J Falotico