Les Poems

les Rosbifs

Yay, the summer’s arrived, so they say
but in England, it’s here for one day;
we roast in the sun,
go rare to well-done;
spend the rest of the year in dismay.

Les Cirque des Morts Collab with B J Fitz

A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades  overgrown fields,  
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.  
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—  
bloated and weathered,  
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.  
Legends of wraiths wander,  
replicating whispers of infected insanity.

Laughter lingers in

Les Cirque des Morts, Collaboration with Sara Jama

A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,  
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.  
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—  
bloated and weathered,  
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.  
Legends of wraiths wander,  
replicating whispers of infected insanity.

Laughter lingers in suspect

Musing on the Death Penalty

A double murderer
Shot before a firing squad
Justice or revenge?

An eye for an eye
So, the old law book conveys
Punishment for sin

Society’s way
To rid town square of wrongs
Yet, death row awaits

The hangman stands by
The masses don’t know his name 
Pulls the trap door latch

The cycle repeats
With no real decrease in crime
No one ever wins 

Justice will make

Les Sons d'Afrique

Verse 1

As I hope for the best, I also Expect the worse
Put my pen to the test, while bleeding out my words 
Compare me not to the rest, unless their lyrics can hop
in similis and metaphors, that I sow in the core
This is real life brother, this is not just a game
I came not to

Book - Les Miserables By Victor Hugo

this great story is comparable ~ to parables in holy writ

Fishing Boats On the Beach At Les Saintes - Van Gogh

Inspired by the Painting of Vincent Van Gogh 
                  "Fishing Boats On The Beach at Les Saintes"


    sky stunning sapphire, sand spectacular amber, sail-boats snoozing snug...

Les Colombes Du Tenere

the sun begins to melt
                          from flaxen to canary~
                     

Les Miserable

Les Miserable 

I walked and walked down a steep ravine and came across
a village has forgotten by time by a road that evaded dwellings
A track not trodden among boulders and roofs made of canes.
skinny women with empty breasts sat on the bough of trees
waiting for someone to enter their loss of love
While telling their idiot

Les Braves

Les Braves

(Iambic Pentameter)

Tan sands conceal deep furrows of their pain,
As churned emotions scream on the light breeze.
The rushing lather bubbles with red stain,
While mortar clouds suppress the dying wheeze,
That madly dared to reach the cliffs in vain.

The hostile bluff still taunts a flying skein,
Where warriors bravely tried to scale the crest.
The rock secretes long tales

Les Miserable

I have such a miserable face,
Grimacing and frowning, a disgrace,
I am a disgrace to the human race
Who suffers by looking at this sad face.

Why do I always wear a frown?
What right have I to feel so down,
I am as fortunate as can be,
Living in a free country.

There are countries, far and wide,
Where they sadly have

Mr Les More

Les More owned big fancy mansions galore
Then bought half of Wyoming, but kept craving more
Now his real estate dwindles to six feet by four
It's all he now needs; no less, no more
6/23/22

8th Place
Greed Poetry Contest-Margarita Lillico

Fishing Boats On the Beach At Les Saintes

Fishing Boats On The Beach at Les Saintes - Marie’s-de-la-Mer

                  Vincent Van Gogh (1853 - 1888), Arles, June 1888
                   

Les Perce - Neige

Je vois partout de beaux bouquets
de clochettes blanches à l’air fragile ;
Ces petites fleurs aux têtes courbées
feuilles vert-foncé et tiges graciles.

Sur une pelouse forestière
un tapis blanc resplendissant
de têtes, inclinées en prière
annonce l’arrivée du printemps.

Sous les doux rayons du soleil
j’apprécie ce paysage si pur,
ces clochettes de l’espoir éveillent
la somnolence de la nature.

28.03.2022

Les Vieux Poemes Comme De Vieilles Chaussures

Les vieux poèmes sont comme de vieilles chaussures
Que nous refusons de jeter au fond des fissures
Comme les vieilles pensées que nous ne pouvons pas ignorer
Ou les vieilles routes que nous aimons naviguer.

Les vieux poèmes sont maintenant très renommés
Comme de vieilles pantoufles confortables
Des témoins de nombreuses histoires autour de la table
Où grand-mère s'est assise autrefois avec

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