Long Vous Poems

Long Vous Poems. Below are the most popular long Vous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vous poems by poem length and keyword.


Past Old Strangers

“Past Old Strangers”



I met a man with piercing eyes,
Whose cool façade was mere disguise,
Whose soul reflected sadness there,
The like of which I can’t compare.

Whose massive frame seemed somehow small
For one whose stature stood so tall,
Whose glance I felt afraid to meet
For fear of déjà vous’ entreat –
Like past old strangers reunited,
Or some lost love, not yet requited.

He was running, so was I;
We almost passed each other by,
But something gave us moment’s pause
In destiny’s ill-fated cause.

So, we stopped and shared a word, or two,
Like old acquaintances might do.
We passed the time, as best we could,
Both knowing somehow that we should.

And gradually, he made me smile,
As did he, in turn, in a little while,
But underneath I saw the pain
And fear he felt to love, again.

And compassion overtook me then
For all those empty hours we spend
In seeking warmth from someone else
Instead of looking to ourselves.

For all those nameless faces yet,
And all those ghosts we can’t forget;
For all the loves that haunt us still
And rob us of our own free will.

For all those memories that lie
So heavily on heart’s goodbyes;
For all the love that we may miss
Because of nurtured cowardice.

For all the chances we let pass
When stepping through that looking glass,
To let the words we long to say
Fall lost along our appointed way.

Because we fear, in foolish pride,
To let another step inside,
To take a place so deep within
That no one else has ever been.

For fear of feeling human need 
In fond fulfillment or lover’s deed,
For giving is that part of love
We find that we’re most fearful of.

And all those things I thought within
That sweet reunion with my old friend,
When glimpsing there beneath those eyes
Midst idle talk and flirting sighs.

But he knew well, as I did too,
The candle’s flame to which we drew,
Like moths who flutter to be free,
But can’t escape Fate’s destiny.

And so it was, we passed the night,
But never touched, as once we might,
For we both feared what we both knew,
As past old strangers often do,
The haunting warmth that we might find,
The kindredship of mirrored minds,
The comfort we would share as friends,
The fear of where it all might end…




J. B. Pearce
Copyright
© Jan Pearce  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Translation of Bury Me In a Free Land By Frances E W Harper 1825 - 1911

Translation of " Bury Me in a Free Land " by Frances E. W. Harper
(Homage to Frances Ellen Watkins HARPER, the First Black Lady of America, 1825 - 1911, Orphan, Poet, Novelist, Civil Rights Activist, Public Speaker, Suffragette, whose memorable lines of subdued indignation arise from controlled passions of the never-daunted Soul.)

Enterrez-moi dans un pays libre

Enterrez-moi où que soit vous voulez
Dans une plaine basse ou sur une colline élevée
Faites en sorte que le tombeau soit parmi les plus simples
Mais pas dans un pays où il y a d'esclaves

Je ne pourrais pas m'endormir si autour de ma tombe
J'entendais les pas d'un esclave tremblant
Son ombre couvrant ma tombe silencieuse
La fera un endroit où règnera une ambiance désastreuse

Je ne pourrais pas me calmer si j'entendais les pas
D'un coffle en train d'être conduit vers les corvées sans repas
Et la crie d'une mère désespéramment sans espoir
Montant comme une malédiction tremblant dans l'aire

Je ne pourrais pas m'endormir si j'apercevais le fouet
Buvant son sang dans chaque entaille qu'il faisait
Et je voyais ses bébés arrachés de sa poitrine
Comme des frémissantes colombes de leur nid d'origine

Je me réveillerai secouée tout d'un coup si j'entendais le hurlement
Des limiers en train de capturer leur proie humaine
Et si j'entendais ensuite leurs cris de supplice en vaine
Tandis qu'on rattachait de nouveau leurs pénibles chaines 

Si je voyais des jeunes filles arrachées des bras de leurs mères
Et marchandaient et vendues pour leur jeunesse et beauté rare
Mes yeux seront illuminés d'une flamme de tristesse
Mes joues d'une pâleur de mort deviendront rouge sang de la détresse honteuse

Je dormirais, chers amis, où le pouvoir arrogant
Ne pouvait pas dérober aucun homme de son plus précieux droit existant
Mon séjour dans n'importe quelle tombe serai en paix
Là où personne peut dénommer ses frères des esclaves inégaux

Je n'ai aucune envie pour qu'on se souvient de moi par un monument, fier et imposant,
Pour attirer l'attention admirative des passants
Tout ce que mon âme réclame avec soif
Est qu'on ne m'enterre dans un pays d'esclaves
                                                 © T. Wignesan - Paris, November 22, 2018
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

the most beautiful girls

The most beautiful girls,
Are those we imagine to love,
The ones we would like to invite to the restaurant
To drink champagne and grands crus,

The most beautiful girls, I know some,
Are the ones we imagine loving you,
They jump in taxis in Manhattan
To go see romantic comedies,

The most beautiful girls, you see them,
Are the ones you expect in your dreams,
The ones you hug in kitchens
Between two quails with grapes and cheese,

The most beautiful girls, from Paris, or Medellin
Are those who dream of loving you,
Those who love forbidden fruits, melons,
The pineapples and fruits of ice sorbets,

The most beautiful girls, I know others,
Are those you will never understand,
They have all the qualities of sinners,
They sink body and soul, like beasts
In the libraries you choose.

The most beautiful girls, the more intelligent
Are those to whom you offer roses,
Who want them undressed on a train,
To arrive tomorrow in Strasbourg or Brest,
They love crossing France from coast to coast.


Les plus belles filles,
Sont celles qu’on imagine aimer,
Celles qu’on voudrait inviter au restaurant
Pour boire du champagne et des grands crus,

Les plus belles filles, j’en connais certaines,
Sont celles qu’on imagine vous aimer,
Elles sautent dans des taxis à Manhattan
Pour aller voir des comédies romantiques,

Les plus belles filles, vous les voyez,
Sont celles que vous attendez dans vos rêves,
Celles que vous étreignez dans des cuisines
Entre deux cailles aux raisins et le fromage,

Les plus belles filles, de Paris, ou Medellin
Sont celles qui rêvent de vous aimer,
Celles qui aiment les fruits défendus, les melons,
Les ananas et les fruits des sorbets glacés,

Les plus belles filles, j’en connais d’autres,
Sont celles que vous ne comprendrez jamais,
Elles ont toutes les qualités des pécheresses,
Elles sombrent corps et âmes, comme des bêtes
Dans les bibliothèques que vous choisissez.

Les plus belles filles, les plus intelligentes
Sont celles auxquelles vous offrez des roses,
Qui veulent qu’on les déshabille dans un train,
Pour arriver demain à Strasbourg ou à Brest,
Elles aiment traverser la France de long en large.

A Rhyming a Random

Celebrity deaths can be bizarre 
someone so close yet so far 
the realisation hits you hard 
yet they have no clue who you are 

Meat Loaf sang to my youthful years 
Sarah Harding sang with my peers 
when the Queen died there were tears 
and was Diana’s what it appears 

Watching those planes hit those towers 
the world as one witnessed those cowards 
that massacre in the morning hours 
then militaries became empowered 

Next was London then Paris too 
England crying unis avec vous 
testing times bring out those true 
voted Brexit but love E.U 

Man United won the treble 
Man City now at that level 
the blue moon shines on the Red Devil 
history books record those special 

2003 England’s World Cup 
‘66 yes please shut up 
scandalous FIFA so corrupt 
3 Lions always self destruct 

We made football we made law 
this island nation oh so small 
conquerors of more than all
fighting giants not so tall 

The history that we best remember 
“On the beaches never surrender”
NATO nations all one member 
all for one with one agenda 

As we explore beyond the moon 
machines on Mars out to Neptune 
the News at 6 bringing gloom 
AI Ukraine and monsoon 

Covid Ebola and the climate 
protesters who have never climaxed 
trains crashes that left the tracks 
deaths resort from knife attacks

YouTubers that speak to many 
all done just to make some money 
causing offence so nothing’s funny 
can’t let meat reach your tummy

Notice now how kids have causes 
blocking roads because they’re foolish 
speaking without knowledge shortness 
things we learned that no one taught us

Growing up I owned a tortoise 
someone nicked it from its fortress 
for its value seeking fortunes 
never knowing what’s a porpoise 

Random thoughts of simple sorts 
sleeping nude no boxer shorts 
the warmth of her who I will court 
keep mingers the last resort

ugly ones say no thank you 
get drunk and I guess you’ll do 
wake up somewhere strange confused 
run away cus she’s a moose 

Handsome hand written and random 
stopping once I’m paid a ransom 
I’m not sure of that Charles Manson 
singing songs written by Hanson
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Muguet De Mai 2

Ce sont de grosse perles tombées à l'envi du paradis,
Grain à grain, plus luisantes que tout superbe satin.
Leur fraîcheur et délicatesse proviennent du séraphin,
Qui dit: jamais ses qualités ne deviendront ni taries ni décaties.
Tant qu'il demeure chez vous tous leur parcours d'âme,
Vous allez vous assurer de l'absolution de tout blâme
Tout en jouissant de leur épanouissement pérenne
Dans vos fors intérieurs où ils s'amènent.

Ce sont de nombreux rangs de clochettes
Légèrement secouées pour accueillir les fêtes
À l'appel de la voix de l'Éden,
Plus euphonique que toute populaire rengaine,
Note à note, s'égrenant de très près, de très près,
Jusqu'à ce que toute oreille en soit repue.
L'enchâssement de la meilleure musique dans les muguets,
C'est ce que l'on a bien entendu!

Ce sont cent calices sens dessus dessous, 
Livrant d'ensemble la libation à la terre,
Faisant la navette à travers l'atmosphère,
Tuyautant l'ambiance d'ici-bas sur le céleste remous.
Jet à jet, ses eaux se précipitent du firmament
En en apportant le fin tempérament,
Et s'avérant plus moelleuse que toute belle fontaine,
D'où un merveilleux jumelage entre le ciel et la Seine.

Ce sont de suaves sachets éparpillés
Des nymphes qui sortent de chez elles en déshabillés
Tout en s'ébattant l'une avec l'autre.
Souffle à souffle, plus entêtants que tout bon vin mûr,
Au gré du zéphyr à partir de l'azur,
Sur lequel toute imagination monte et puis se vautre.
Leur fragrance se faufile de foule en foule, de narine en narine,
Jusqu'à ce que toute personne s'en enivre, tout paysage devant eux s'incline.

Ce sont exactement les muguets de mai,
Grappe à grappe, plus raffinés que tout douillet velours.
Une fleur seule concentre tous les amours,
Le monde entier parsemé de fruits gais.
Serrez-les dans vos doigts avec douceur,
Et laissez-les donner les caresses attendries;
Gardez-les dans vos coeurs avec vigueur,
Et laissez-les fournir les félicités nanties.
En effet, c'est l'essentiel de l'Évangile téléporté de Dieu
Au terrain de l'être humain, 
Grace à quoi se font tous les exaucements séreins,
garantissant que tout ira de mieux en mieux.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Dancing Meditations

Dancers
and health therapists,
meditators
and educators,
speak of an embodied
listening
and teachable "CORE."

We need,
on bad days,
and want,
on better days,

To exercise,
stretch,
fill and empty,
appreciate
and open
our empowering MindBody Core,

With healthy, resilient outcomes predicted
as a return on investment
for such deep enlightening listening
and learning
intention,
integrity
of compassionate purpose.

Back in the day,
religious
and warm spring breeze
front porch Sunday afternoon
philosophical,
spiritual
and natural lifeskills therapists,
polyglot poets 
and brilliant essayists,
lovers
and naked co-passionists,
storytellers
and environmental storymakers
spoke
and sang
and danced
to restore our healthy
holistically wealthy
"Soul"

While my Core
seems to be Here
and Now about my autonomous body,
and our shared Soul
an advocate for active democratic process
ing co-passionately commun
icating bicameral
ly reiterative 
reconnecting
re-ligioning minds,

For those who see 
and sometimes hear
this mind-body
inside-outside
Janus-doublefaced, double-bound
leftbrain languaged Core curriculum distinction 
without experiential rightbrain sensory 
Soulfull/empty Zeroistic difference,

BodyCores may be useful to teach MindSouls
to think
and feel
interdependent CoreSoul
holistic
holonic
holy-spirited
animus-Mundi
EarthTribe soul-core Us,

A non-elite sacred we
restoratively experienced much differently
than OldSchool royal WE,

As "tu" would prefer to soulfully heal
relationships "vous" might choose to punish,
to exclude from high society's
deep delusional
and boxed-in bored
monoculturally self-disempowering
patriarchally unenlightened
EcoSystemic EarthMother Core
embryonic womb.

Personal ZeroSum risky secularized 
monetized Cores,
like mortally autonomous bodies,
may also be political
and economic 
NonZero reorganizing co-invested mindbodies
encircling compassionate HolySouls.

When we walk together
our Cores move in linear
or circling sympathy

And when we dance as one
our Souls feel 
and know
Here as also Now 
co-empathy.

Voila Part Ii

Can intimacy be labeled as de trop?
I don't think. My sister offers me critique
Of such silly actions! But I still crave more!
Our nights together were just majestique.

Before heading out we take aperitif
By the pool, in the hotel's lavish court yard.
My rocky passion serves me as leitmotif
In my love life. It's my favorite play card.

Dine and talk. Perfectly at ease together.
I like so much  wishing you "Bon appetit",
With you my soul is flying like a feather.
You are to me more than a mere novelty.

Feel beautiful in a body so petit.
Your touch is oh so tender. Deja vu?
Strangers are familiar. We finally meet,
In former life we must have shared rendez-vous.

After dinner we head out to cabaret.
You quickly organize an old school taxi.
You stare, you can't take your eyes off my décolleté 
Feel incredibly desired, too damn foxy.

We're finally there. One kitschy place. Garçon
Slowly serves cheap red wine to every table.
No one on stage but loudspeakers play chanson.
You were school graduate as I'm in cradle.

We expected to see a show of avant-garde.
Would like to occupy the place of your protégé. 
Wish of mine you note but simply disregard.
One day I'll dress exclusively prêt-à-porter.

Another caress of night we have in store. 
Waiting in bed. Finally you knock. "Entrez!"
All night we'll listen to music of the shore.
Ready to welcome you inside. "S'il vous plaît"

Next morning, early rise and you have to leave.
Gave me sea shell and CD as souvenir.
Rest of my vacation I'm condemned to grieve.
Imagery of you streams softly like cashmere.

Too fast but it's time to wish you "Bon Voyage!".
Final heady breaths of your eau de cologne
I inhale. Hate hotel lobby's entourage.
Time to finish that book by Jerome Jerome. 

Next five days I watch mind's movie-reverie
Of us together. Quite soon I'll be en route.
Miss you. Will I ever see you? C'est la vie!
Have a feeling that we said goodbye for good.

On the plane back home I write you, mon amour.
I hope you reach your so longed-for Shambala.
My poems about you are cri de coeur.
I'm home. New life is here. Oh là là! Voilà!
Form: Lyric

Premium Member La Civilisation - Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal's Civilization By T Wignesan

La Civilisation – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Civilization” by T. Wignesan 

Nous qui sont arrivés en retard à la civilisation,
Une lacune des siècles que nous ait laissé tomber,
Lors de votre arrivé à nos terres nous vous admirions émerveillés
Mais nous ne nous sentions pas effrayer.
A l’époque nous n’avions rien d’autre que le don d’être heureux,
Chaque jour un jour férié
Car nous étions des humains avant d’être des citoyens,
Avant d’être redevables aux impôts sur le revenu,
Et locataires, consommateurs, employés, paroissiens.
De quelle façon pourrions-nous comprendre
Les stratifications de l’homme blanc, toutes rigides et sans appel,
Vos totems sacrés, de Seigneurs et Dames,
Altesse et Sainteté, Eminence, Majesté.
Nous ne pourrions pas comprendre
Votre étrange culte de l’uniformité,
Cette adhérence totale à la ponctualité, discipline comme à programmer le travail.
Confus, nous nous doutions
De l’importance pour vous de l’urgence et de la signifiance 
Des cravates et des gants, de cirage, de l’uniforme.
Des prisons et des orphelinats étant des nouveautés pour nous,
Des locations et des impôts, des banques et des hypothèques.
Nous qui possédons quasiment rien hormis les choses essentielles,
Nous n’avions pas des policiers, des avocats, des revendeurs intermédiaires,
Des courtiers, des financiers, des millionnaires.
Ainsi ces choses-là, tous ces merveilles nous avaient rendu abasourdis
Valeurs mobilières, le marché d’immobiliers,
L’intérêt composé, des ventes et des investissements.
Si nous avions pu nous en profiter et de nous faire élevés
Avec des telles connaissances nouvelles peut-être un nouveau monde aurait pu nous accueillir.
Absorbés de jour au lendemain dans de façon à vivre de l’homme blanc
Nous voilà acceptions avec résignation tout avec joie et reconnaissance,
Puisque c’est la voie de l’inévitable.
Mais souvenez-vous, Homme Blanc, si par contre la vie est faite pour atteindre la joie de vivre
Ne vous aussi nul doute éprouveriez grand besoin de changer.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

These people they are not worth much

These people, they’re not worth much,
They think they are more liquid than water,
They shine before those who envy them,
They wear beautiful expensive watches,
These people think they’re better than God,
Better Than hedgehogs, seagulls, trees,
But they don’t have their qualities,
The choppy lake makes me forget them.

These people, they’re not worth much,
They despise Montaigne and La Boétie,
For evenings at the village restaurant,
They mock the villagers of Tarascon,
They have arguments on every boat,
Sail when the sea rises suddenly,
They shine only to humiliate people,
To satisfy their sense of vanity,

These people, they’re not worth much,
They take you away from distant lands,
They take you away from the genius of Claude Monet
Meditation in front of blue landscapes,
They take you away from the goodness of the trees,
 From Time that stops on Lake Como,
These people, they’re not worth much,
They keep you away from the people you love.






Ces gens-là, ne valent pas grand-chose,
Ils se croient plus liquides que l’eau,
Ils brillent devant ceux qui les jalousent,
Ils portent de belles montres couteuses,
Ces gens-là se croient meilleurs que Dieu,
Que les hérissons, les mouettes, les arbres,
Mais ils n’en ont pas les qualités,
Le clapot d’un lac me les fait oublier.

Ces gens-là, ne valent pas grand-chose,
Ils méprisent Montaigne et La Boétie,
Pour des soirées au restaurant du bourg,
Ils moquent les villageois de Tarascon,
Ils ont des arguments sur tous les bateaux,
Appareillent quand la mer monte soudain,
Ils ne brillent que pour humilier les gens,
Pour satisfaire leurs sens des vanités,

Ces gens-là, ne valent pas grand-chose,
Ils vous éloignent des pays lointains,
Ils vous éloignent du génie de Claude Monet
De la méditation devant des paysages bleus,
Ils vous éloignent de la bonté des arbres,
Du temps qui s’arrête sur le lac de Côme,
Ces gens-là, ne valent pas grand-chose,
Ils vous éloignent des gens que vous aimez.

Bon Anniversaire

As I walk out into the street on 
a bright night in my dark brown suit,
blinking neon lights,whistling breeze
with horns of cars buzzing through the night,
I walk into the hotel lounge expecting
to see the creme-de la-creme
in the business world there,
The waiter greets*"Bon jour monsieur" and
directs me into the hall,
The hall is full of people I could barely see
due to the dim blue sparkling light,
Then,*Voila-a bright light surfaced suddenly,
As Vikky walks into the hall,
Shouts of *'Bon anniversaire' echoe through the air,
Today is Vikky`s twenty-fifth birth day;
*"Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,
Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire a' vous"
Hip!hip!hip! hurray! with a rapturous applause....
My heart keeps racing,for
I don`t know how to present
my gift to her;
She is my love;my jewel!
but I`m afraid of her *laissez-faire attitude from parents,
She is a french-african,and all her family
members are present here;
I was lost in thought,when 
the waiter tapped me,
*'Monsieur 'and present me with a glass
of creme de menthe ;I hurriedly gulp it down,
and summon up courage,
as I feel strong sensation vibrating
through my entire body;my body is on fire!
I approach her slowly...
with my gift pack inside my suit pocket...
Trembling and sweating...
I hope,she says 'Yes!'.

*Bon jour--Good day(morning or afternoon) 
*Bon anniversaire--Good/Nice celebration
*Monsieur--Mister
*creme-de la-creme--the best people or things of their kind
*creme de menthe--a strong sweet alcohol made from MINT
*laissez-faire--policy of allowing private businesses to develop without government control
OR parents giving their children to much  freedom.
*"Joyeux anniversaire a' vous,Joyeux anniversaire a 'vous,Joyeux anniversaire,
Joyeux anniversaire,Joyeux anniversaire a 'vous"--Happy birthday to you,happy birthday
to you,happy birthday,happy birthday,happy birthday to you....

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