Long Brest Poems
Long Brest Poems. Below are the most popular long Brest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brest poems by poem length and keyword.
22
to all the presidents, of clubs
Or companies,
to all the principals of technological high school,
to all the market cashiers,
Who want to make you disappear,
to all the news journalists
Who speak without loving us,
to all the champions, the Olympic medalists,
to all javelin throwers,
to all university professors,
Doctors in law, in nuclear physics,
to all grain producers,
To the chocolate masters,
To the cabaret dancers,
to all pizza eaters,
To Brest, to Toulouse,
to all window cleaners,
To the excellent comedians, Debbouze, or Gad Elmaleh,
to all the conductors,
To the dentists who perform,
to all the Sioux chiefs, or Apaches
to all medical researchers,
In their laboratories,
to all the Nobel Prize winners,
From literature or chemistry,
to all jazz musicians,
to all talented artists,
To opera singers, to blues ones too,,
to all the cultured Parisians,
To the abandoned drag queens,
to all the indiscreet pastry chefs,
To sleeping grandfathers,
To the fish merchants, the hunters,
to all the poets of France,
To the deployed cartomancers,
to all students and high school students,
to you, who read this incongruous list,
finally this poem is ending, you might say,
Yes, the world will continue without you,
Think about it more often.
Well, how to say, the story begins well, I go on a path (wide enough for a tractor), 20 meters long, which leads to a field (I had never had the curiosity to go there, but I pass in front every time I walk in Plougastel)There, surprise, a young doe crosses the field, for info a field of straw, with rectangular bales of hay, she stops calmly to graze, she looks in my direction, I think she sees me, but does not seem to fear my presence, I am half hidden behind low bushes; Begins a strange ballet, she eats for five seconds, raises her head, and repeats the process approaching less than twenty meters from me, I am excited, she is not afraid, and yet she goes back the other way, always skirting the embankment, quietly, grazing raising the head, even rubbing the pelvis at one moment, like a cat (forgive the lengths), and then moving away very slowly, grazing, raising the head, up to the East end of the field, I take my time, I am not in a hurry, the scene lasts twenty five minutes, when I decide to leave, well I took it, then I see less than a dozen meters a huge boar, (a beast what) walking in my direction, quietly, I hesitate for a moment, then I flee without panic, without aggressiveness towards the exit, the path wide enough for a tractor, I then turned my eyes, and find that the boar followed me, and even got closer (animal mimetism?), not reassuring, so I go on the asphalt road, what seems to be the frontier for him, after thirty meters, I turn around, I see that he does not follow me, then engages a process of retrospective fear, that I have not known since 1996 in Kentucky, when I was attacked at the entrance of a "discotheque" ('Girls Girls Girls') for those who know, I am going to my car and obviously, no question of continuing the walk, . I got back to Brest quite nervous I must say, I didn’t even notice people anymore.....
O the taste of the first strawberry,
Wake up Marie Gaëlle, smile at me,
Your eye shines like a shooting star,
Pick the strawberry, crunch the strawberry,
Your tongue melts like ice,
Your tongue, suddenly is in love,
O Wake up, Marie Gaëlle,
Pick the rose, eat the strawberry,
Enjoy the first strawberry,
Makes the pleasure last,
Walk your tongue on the pink pulp,
O sun, you invent pleasure,
Wake up Jennifer, kiss me,
The first strawberry is the best,
It comes from Plougastel, from Brest so,
Pick the rose, eat the strawberry,
The juice flows on your exquisite lips,
Who are you young strawberry, a princess?
O the taste of the first strawberry,
Is like the taste of the first kiss,
Make it last, long minutes,
It invites the sun on exquisite lips,
What’s the point of lying? Once,
You’ll take a second,
O Wake up Marie Gaëlle,
Crunch the strawberry, the first strawberry,
This little moment of happiness.
O le goût de la première fraise,
Réveille-toi Marie Gaëlle, souris-moi,
Ton œil brille comme une étoile filante,
Cueille la fraise, croque la fraise,
Ta langue fond comme une glace,
Ta langue, soudain est amoureuse,
O Réveille-toi, Marie Gaëlle,
Cueille la rose, croque la fraise,
Profite de la première fraise,
Fait durer le plaisir,
Promène ta langue sur la pulpe rose,
O soleil, tu inventes le plaisir,
Réveille-toi Jennifer, embrasse-moi,
La première fraise est la meilleure,
Elle vient de Plougastel, de Brest donc,
Cueille la rose, croque la fraise,
Le jus coule sur tes lèvres exquises,
Qui es-tu jeune fraise, une princesse ?
O le goût de la première fraise,
Est comme le goût du premier baiser,
Fais le durer, de longues minutes,
Il invite le soleil sur les lèvres exquises,
À quoi sert de mentir ? Une fois,
Tu en prendras bien une seconde,
O Réveille-toi Marie Gaëlle,
Croque la fraise, la première fraise,
Ce petit moment de bonheur.
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….
Emotion will overcome,
The one we have while crossing Yellowstone Park,
With two loyal friends,
Walking on walkways above the bubbling
from Mammoth Spring,
The one we have using a defibrillator to see a heart
Beat again,
Emotion will win, the one we have when looking at the stars
shining in the selfish night,
The one we have while detailing the lights sparkle on the other side of the bay,
That one emotion while listening to a cantata by Bach, while facing the sea,
The faith in God transcending our souls, our spirits,
The emotion one has when thinking about our mom loosing her ideals
staying in bed,
the emotion will overcome,
The one we have as a passenger, at each takeoff or landing of a Boeing 747,
That emotion while admiring a painting of Monet or Botticelli,
That one by reading our travel book about Brazil,
That of the child discovering his gifts under the Christmas tree,
the emotion will win,
That of the tourist from Brest, discovering for the first time
Manhattan,
or photographing whales off the coast of Cape Code,
The one of the teacher looking into the eyes of a eleventh grader,
Emotion will conquer, or the world will perish.
Hide this bottle from me,
That I could drink
This Chateauneuf du Pape
More tempting than the smile of a maid,
this Saint Emilion sneaky
Who has no saint but the name,
Hide this bottle from me,
This haut c$ote de Beaune,
Straight from the Middle Ages,
This rosé of Provence so sincere
Who would make pretty Bretons blush,
In a creperie of Brest.
Hide this bottle from me,
This Sauternes so sweet, so sweet
That makes high school girls naughty,
Hide me this bottle,
That I might well drink,
This wild little sauvignon,
Love is enough to make me drunk.
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Que je pourrais bien boire
Ce Chateauneuf du Pape
Plus tentant que les fesses d’une pucelle,
ce Saint Emilion sournois
Qui n’a de saint que le nom,
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Ce haut côte de Beaune,
Venu tout droit du Moyen Age,
Ce rosé de Provence si sincère
Qui ferait rougir de jolies bretonnes,
Dans une crêperie brestoise.
Cachez-moi cette bouteille,
Ce Sauternes si sucré, si doux
Qui rend les lycéennes coquines,
Cachez moi cette bouteille,
Que je pourrais bien boire,
Ce sauvignon peu sauvage,
L’amour suffit à m’enivrer.
I have heard "when YOUR dead, YOUR dead"
So why is Your memory still in my head
Why does my Heartbeat (still) with YOUR LOVE
It has been 42 years since YOU joined GOD above
My hands still caress YOU, my eyes Beauty sees
Each morning I speak to YOU from my kneeling knees
My nostrils inhale Your most Glorious scent
Will I ever go where YOU have already went
I speak to YOU daily of our LOVE in the past
And the years keep rolling on faster than fast
At night I feel you rubbing my chest
As I lean over to Worship YOUR Brest
I Whisper I Miss YOU and I Always will
Lenore my beloved Wife I'm LOVING YOU Still
The Title is the Words of "Mandy Tams ~The Golden Girl~"
Inspired by : Mandy Tams ~The Golden Girl~
Dedicated to Mandy Tams
Well, I must say that I did not want to walk two hours, some days I am downright tired of diabetes
So I drove to Logonna Daoulas after a visit to the Kerdrein strike for the view of Brest, days it is the most beautiful city in the world, sometimes it is a city of big idiots,
There I park on a strike, with a cd of samba (the schools of the carnival) it makes me think that the Brazilians are crazy, so there is energy in this music,
And there it is magic, a fox passes five meters from my car motionless so and disappears on the beach, my adventure is just beginning
I move and drive to the Bendy, I stop, there a doe disappears before my eyes in a field (weak light, but I note the white tuft on the rear train)
I still walk a minute, to have clearer ideas, then drive to the village of Logonna Daoulas
There I am on the same field as the other day, samba music, deep down, a doe stands straight and fixes the car, it’s very beautiful,
Engine on I remain to look at her, she is not afraid, I lasted two minutes and I cracked, do not frighten the animals, I am still four hundred meters from the village,
I rush to the national, then decides as if by a magical intuition to make a detour through Irvillac, it’s not Chicago, friends, just a small Breton village,
and there better than the scene of fire of Atlanta in "gone with the wind", I see at about thirty meters, three deer with the tail leu leu, all three at the top of the field, in full contrast with the sky, on the horizon line, alas, I had not taken my camera, what regret (they continued their way, in single file (queue leu leu en français) on the crest of the field, really bright)
I left and a kilometer further between Irvillac and Daoulas, I see a fox jumping in a field, he was hunting visibly I stopped, he was afraid and just drove off as fast as an arrow, let’s say that all this put me in shape, I have the impression that with spring, nature takes over
Let us take care of this nature, let us no longer expand fields to infinity
Good Sunday the on earth my friends
19
Can we live without love?
In Kyrgyzstan, in Armenia,
In Brittany, in Venezuela,
Without sharing his emotions,
With God or Saint Joseph,
Regardless of his birth,
The color of his skin,
No matter how much he’s worth,
Can we live without love?
In Greece or the Cyclades,
In the sun or under the Big Dipper,
In the light, in a dungeon,
Can we live without love?
20
Can we live without love?
In Rio, or in Calcutta,
in Marrakech or in Berlin,
in Paris or in Marseille,
at the sea, in the countryside,
No matter how hard you try,
To suspend time, or anything
No one will read your rondeau,
Can we live without love?
In Brest or Carcassonne,
In the gardens of the Essonne,
In the flowery countryside
Or in Véronique’s bed?
It is never too late,
My birthday gift,
Is the most beautiful that I received,
My sister, my brother-in-law and I,
Let’s cross France, on Monday
Went to Giverny on Tuesday
We visited the garden and the house
By Claude Monet, the painter,
Somme went to Paris on Wednesday
We visited the Musée de l'Orangerie,
To see Monet’s water lilies,
In two immense and oval rooms,
It was pretty amazing!
We tasted the Tuileries garden
among some Chinese tourists,
Then we left Paris in the afternoon,
The next day in the Mayenne
We visited the Robert Tatin museum,
Then we left for Brest
Here is a birthday gift
That I will never forget,
It was pretty amazing!