Best Rouges Poems
Kim's song in French
Lent son du saxophone ; je m'allonge
et j'écoute les paroles du bon vieux temps,
quand Paris était à la mode,
et que le temps de l'amour est révolu
pour la vieille fille sirotant du vin
à la terrasse d'un café ; fixant,
sommes-nous, les yeux d'un tableau
pluvieux et coloré ; romantiquement
par le son frémissant du saxophone ;
ses notes flottant sur la Seine.
Gouttes de pluie grises, bleues et cerisiers en fleurs ; un sourire subtil sur des lèvres rouges,
rappelant la beauté et les heures passées ;
claquement de talons et belle robe.
Paroles et vocables posés et assurés
régularisent mon cœur, réchauffent mes pulsations.
Une voix fredonne, tandis que les doigts du phoniste s'agitent,
fourmillent tous les sens ; variateur de cabernet.
you were walking along a blossom carpet
holding three yellow calla lilies
i could hear the blue river running along the rocks
toward the cullasaja falls where the water raged
we were like giraffes in the rain, first to feel the drops
in our perfumed outdoor living roam
we lived a fairy tale of here and now
we lived a fairy tale two feet off the ground
wilson’s warblers sang in their series of descending notes
and now we were just silhouettes in the sunset
eau sur peau et petits fruits rouges c'était nous
at treks end morning strawberry and cream grew wild
we could see nature’s pick dancing on the clouds
as we sat for biscuit tea beneath a popcorn sky
until the evening primroses announced another day done
time to embrace in the warmth of your silky touch
my eyes rain a sun shower on this our sacred globe.
I don’t like cats, really,
They scare away birds, pretty ****,
The robin, the blackbird so smart,
They think only of eating weaker than them,
That to jump the balls of innocent wool,
My garden had a sweet music yesterday,
Today it is quieter than a grave,
Cats scare away, nice birds,
They don’t see much further than their pretty nose,
Oh the caresses they expect, what false money,
Turn your back; they devour all your friends.
Je n’aime pas les chats, vraiment,
Ils font fuir les oiseaux, les jolies mésanges,
Les rouges gorges, les merles si intelligents,
Ils ne pensent qu’à manger plus faibles qu’eux,
Qu’à sauter les pelotes de laine innocentes,
Mon jardin avait hier une douce musique,
Aujourd’hui il est plus silencieux qu’une tombe,
Les chats font fuir, les gentils oiseaux,
Ils ne voient pas beaucoup plus loin que leur joli nez,
Ah les caresses qu’ils attendent, quelle fausse monnaie,
Tournez le dos, ils dévorent tous vos amis.
Cul du sac
Blood tears
Leaking
slowly
the empty face
emotions raped
red raindrops
fancy lollipops
empty glass
filling with sanguine color
drip
drip
drip
We are smiles
en chante
tous
les petits moulins rouges
tombe
casse
drink well from my veins
sleep in my tears
robbed of heart
faceless
fate has fermented
barrels of laughter
in the silent chamber
of broken dreams
Notes: Translations
Cul du sac = dead end
en chante = cheers
tous = all
Les petits moulins rouges = the little red windmills
tombe = to fall
casse = broken
Many have attempted bilingual art, music, song, film, and very few have had success, and yet for me, doing so is a bridge that joins the best of all cultures and heritages whichever they may be, so seeking less success, and more bridges to travel I carry on.
teacup rouges the palms
winter butterflies
Look you for Matisse's Daughter?
-------------------------------------
The cat glides paw in the water.
It is glaring at three goldfish.
Jolly tulips are on left side.
The bowl with fish is on a dish.
Gawp at colors so bright in frame...
The cat glides paw in the water.
I guess the fish have fear inside!
(No sign of Matisse's daughter.)
The wallpaper has hearts on it -
Look garish in Fauvist color.
The cat glides paw in the water.
Nothing here to mark as duller.
This cat goes yellow, mark it well...
Never like the one of daughter.
The three fish look up to the cat.
The cat glides paw in the water.
------------------------------------------------------------
The painting describes "Le Chat aux Poissons Rouges",
translated correctly as goldfish, not red fish.
4/24/2017
Contest - Celebration of Art
Sponsor - Kim Rodriguez
1st place win
Radical rouges have returned to restore
drilling and spilling and filling my gourd.
Each night as I dream these devils all scheme,
turning my memories into something obscene.
I can't seem to catch them, they work on thru the night,
bending and breaking every single bright light.
How do demons so dastardly dare to persist
within Heaven's domain, - within Heaven's mist.
If God ever looks, I won't be here anymore,
broken to pieces and swept out the door.
written 06.30.2016
J'entends encore votre voix
Quelques nuits quand il pleut
Et quand tu parle, vos paroles sont plus belles
Que ceux de Dumas et de Voltaire
Je n’avais pas une chance avant vos yeux miroitants
Votre petit sourire timide
Et vos cheveux d’or comme une chute d’eau
Qui brille plus brillants que le soleil
C’est un mystère pourquoi personne ne voit
Comment chaque pouce de vous
Des cheveux d’or aux ongles de pieds rouges comme les rubis
Est plus belle que les paroles peuvent décrire
Cela, c’est vraiment un honte de chaque homme
Pour le soleil avec toute sa sagesse
N’est ni astucieux
Ni drôle comme vous
Et il ne peint pas les tapisseries
Que vous pouvez peindre sur le canevas
Et dans mes rêves
Où je souhaite encore que je
Puisse me souvenir ce que j'aurais fait de tenir votre main juste une fois
A caresser les rayons de soleil de vos cheveux
A goûter doucement les lèvres florales et à regarder aux yeux qui volent le cœur
Sans crainte, sans faiblesse Et maintenant, sans regret.
Mais maintenant je sais que je
Peux regarder vers le soleil
Avant que je puisse savoir
Vote beauté entière
THE RELUCTANT
by Mark Miller © 09/19/2014
We are the living seeming stillness willful we endure
Through vows of contempt to never surrender
Vacate questions fly by trees terse unknown
Retreat or follow the terminus term less
Momentary pains unheard retort by shallow useless
Redound prismatic dreams latter stray trust
Natures vacant way redresses selves pose in us
Pernicious waves enter ancestors unearthly graves
Today's rays show muses midriffs ghastly craves
Stealthy mending blindly tenuous mendacity
Humorous make believe entertains cryptic insanity
Friendless unbound plays acts shameful indelible
Mindless conceit surveys noiseless hostile handily
Downward deadlock hours wither over certain irritant
Moonlit nights stare down reprisal in winnower's other
Fury's insight fortify fearless worry nowhere
Repress paths repugnant reptiles past broken paths we honor
Reconcile wrath's subterfuge insults spites the confessor
Splitting subverts imaged illusions rouges gallery succession
Accosted conditions denied serfs exalt failures procession
Recover the recreant disloyal sequestrate authority
Lucifer's sepsis addressed banished brotherhood of man restarts again
All French cakes are delicious, better
The “ Amandier” and its subtle nuts taste in the mouth,
The “Paris-Brest”, with its sweet praline cream,
Rum Baba, with its sweet taste of liqueur,
The “tarte aux fraises” and its sweet red fruits,
The “Saint Honoré” and his little “choux à la crème”
The “ Commisaire” and his subtle pistachio aroma,
All French cakes are delicious,
« L’éclair au chocolat ou l’éclair au café »
The “ tarte au citron” et son savoir faire ,
The “Pithiviers” and its awesome frangipane,
All French cakes are delicious, better
the “ Framboisier” and its light pastry cream,
The “ Forêt Noire” with its chocolate and sour cherries,
All French cakes are delicious,
My nice dad was a pastry chef, Sunday were brilliant….
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux, mieux
L’amandier et son goût subtil dans la bouche,
Le Paris-Brest, avec sa douce crème pralinée,
Le Baba au rhum, avec son gout sucré de liqueur,
La tarte aux fraises et ses fruits rouges sucrés,
Le Saint honoré et ses petits choux remplis de crème,
Le commissaire et son subtil arôme de pistache,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux,
L’éclair au chocolat ou l’éclair au café,
La tarte au citron acidulée de tendresse,
Le Pithiviers et sa frangipane de grande fête,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux, mieux
Le Framboisier et sa crème pâtissière légère,
La forêt noire avec son chocolat et ses cerises aigres,
Tous les gâteaux français sont délicieux,
Mon gentil papa était pâtissier, brillait chaque dimanche….
Long moan to the morning sun
shift and creak,
stone shifting to greet the day.
Moss creeping inch by inch,
slithering bit by bit
absorbing the stone.
Century by century
standing witness to time,
lives come and go.
If these walls could talk
stories of royalty and rouges,
feasts and famines.
Stone soaked in blood
moat filled with water and waste,
tapestries of past deeds.
Shades of past
haunting the halls,
trapped in timeless wails.
2/3/14
As I bow down to illustrate gallantry, people bend me more
I become honest in every aspect, I become wretched and poor
I practice self-restraint, society designates me backward
I walk in path of nobility, only anguish and agony over shroud
I crave for an ounce of happiness to be jolly and merry
But it adds to fire by kindling onslaught to tons of misery
I perceive rouges miles away from virtues enjoy fruits of your creation
More they indulge immorality, you recompense them again and again.
I have nothing but to reconcile for what I have been destined
At least I am better than the other when I compare in vivid.
14TH AUG 15
Oh sir Rutherford
Whose crimson light once shone
Nature’s summoned darkness
Ne’er could clasp thy fiery tone
A guardian he stood
A savior felled by kiss
Streaking phoenix screaming
Sent the fell to the abyss
What went amiss my knight?
What haunts the phoenix flight?
Our loyal hope diminishes
In unison with your light
One remaining image
Perching on the mound
A scabbard still erect
Draped in your colors –so profound
What foe has cut you down oh Rutherford?
What force is your demise?
Where is the smoldering crimson
That once alit the skies?
Nay was it an enemy
That ceased the burning glow
For no foe of Rutherford
Could return his fierce some blow
The phoenix would never strike
Those whom he loved
Would these fickle rouges
Cage this flaming dove?
Alas it’s so oh Rutherford
It was I that cut you down
I and the other worms
That once upheld your crown
My bird did we covet
were we threatened by your flame?
That us the weak
would desecrate your name
May we all be cursed oh phoenix
Thrown into swamp and pit
In this deserved misery
Eternally emit:
Oh sir Rutherford
Whose crimson light now shows
Nature’s summoned darkness
Ne’er could clasp thy fiery tone
Il existe une confiture de myrtilles,
Ne parlons pas de la succulente confitures de mûres,
De la marmelade d’oranges, de la confiture de rhubarbe,
Il existe des confitures rouges, des confitures vertes,
Une parenthèse exquise, la compote de pommes,
Il existe de la confiture de prunes, de reine claude,
De la confiture de poires, ou de fruits d’automne
La confiture de fraises que tout le monde adore,
La purée de marrons, la confiture de cassis,
La confiture de framboises, du petit sureau,
Et d’autres confitures de mangues ou de coings,
L’important dans la vie, c’est de toutes les goûter,
Pas d’en choisir une.
There is a blueberry jam,
Let’s not talk about the succulent blackberry jam,
Orange marmalade, rhubarb jam,
There are red jams, green jams,
An exquisite parenthesis, the apple compote,
There is jam of plums, of queen claude,
Pear jam, or autumn fruit
The strawberry jam that everyone loves,
Chestnut puree, blackcurrant jam,
Raspberry jam, elderberry,
And other mango or quince jam,
The important thing in life is to taste all,
Not to choose one.
They shout hatred as blood flows
through veins full of rage and madness;
they fly the red white and blue
as lunatic rogues at the helm
rouse and incite flames of dormant lunacy
to claim a nation from under its democracy
well thought out? it seems not
but well suited for a carnival of insanity
for the whole world to see.
Insurrection!! shouts the Left
not so fast says the Right
let’s pretend this never was
But what’s a nation to do?
these aren’t foreign dissidents
penetrated unto our soil
but a homegrown bunch empowered
with guns, might and rights too
this creates far more danger
than ISIS could ever do.
How can it be; this country we love
harboring a homegrown enemy
defined in terror under the guise of the flag
and rights to Amendment Two
an entity if left to grow
shall cut off the neck of a country
once powerful and strong
now divided unto itself in two
an era that will fester like an open sore
if not soon put back together
will live with chaos for ever more
bring shame to a nation once highly exalted
why risk that—now or ever?
Let’s not forget how the world sees us matters
Let’s aim for humanity not disparity.