The fire encircled by red Adirondacks
A ham and cheese omelette full of protein packs
Glacier remnants the shoreline stacks
Crimson turns; the once green Sumac's
In the Ojibwe lands no fall beauty lacks
Anishinaabeg; the "True People" of lake Mille Lacs
Mad Millie made mention of her mother’s murderous mind.
We wrinkled wandering thoughts which were marvelously kind.
Thinking we knew better than Mad Millie until we did find.
That her mama truly did have a splendiferous murderous mind.
I hear them laughing next door,
Two young families,
Just back from a day at the beach,
Although it is well after dark.
They are on vacation, and
It isn’t their fault that we
Now go to bed so early.
They are only talking, but
The conversation is punctuated
By bursts of hilarious laughter.
I close my eyes and remember
Similar years, long ago.
Two families, six kids and
Sometimes visiting friends -
Not quiet, a little rowdy,
Not thinking of the neighbors
I’m sorry to say, but parents
And children having fun together.
Dinners with clams and mussels
And much joshing and mirth,
Many evenings the young folk,
And sometimes the grown-ups,
Played cards or board games
On the screened in side porch -
Monopoly, Clue, but it was
Mostly Mille Bornes that I recall.
The teenagers would play for hours,
Getting more and more excited.
I can still hear them shouting
“Coup fourre! Coup fourre!”
And jumping up and cheering.
It’s pretty quiet here nowadays.
And I often miss those times,
But I can relive them in my mind
When my next door neighbors
Are living it up on the porch!
Qu'est-ce qui nous port tous les bonheur, surtout le créatif mécénat?
Qu'est-ce qui nous ôte tous les malheur, surtout la moral fange?
C'est ce brin de muguet, au début de mai, tout en arôme d'appas
Tout en sérénité il s'ouvre, tout en ordre il s'arrange.
Tandis que toutes les autres fleurs se rivalisent d'éclat,
A nos yeux leur coloris donnant souvent le change,
Sa modestie lui a remporté un distinctif vedettariat,
Moyennant le blanc le plus pur comme un ange.
Cent fois s'entend son chuchotement,
Mille lieues s'écoule sa douceur,
Résorbant pour tout le monde toute la dépressive rigueur,
Remplissant tous les coins de brillance et d'enjolivement.
reality views...
is digital here to stay...
the discrete segment...
with the analog...
the action...in a back seat...
to be forgotten...
there's start and finish...
a seen perception of time...
measured periods...
hours...minutes...seconds...
mille and micro moments...
but...time can't stand still...
accident events...
where rescuers die helping...
may last days...hours...weeks...
so...which is correct...
digital or analog...
you perceive your truth
stan sand
Ich möchte mich in Gelegenheiten verstecken,
mich um tausend Küsse zanken,
um mich so in beginnende Momenten zu verlieren.
Und in Blicken möchte ich bleiben,
damit selbst verwaiste Augen alles neu riskieren.
Je voudrais me cacher dans des occasions,?pour me disputer autour de mille baisers,
pour me perdre ainsi dans les moments commençant.?Et je voudrais rester dans des regards
avec cela même les yeux d'un enfant orphelin risquent tout.
GIBBOUS MOON
An elusive scene had arisen.
Ghostly gibbous Moon to glisten.
Pulses of heart beats to listen
dancing rhythmic in delight.
Me, walking mad and mesmerized,
horrified and hypnotized,
bewildered and polarized
on frantic lunatic plight.
Cumulus cloud in platoon
floating passing maroon Moon.
trying to hide it later or soon.
At last Moon winked being polite.
05/11/18
First Place
'All Yours (Feb 12) Contest by Brian Strand
2022 Marathon Mille Poetry 24
Contest. by Mark Tony.
by Mark Toney.
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 ?
Vive l’héro
La chanson voisine des louanges
Et toi-
Tu m’as laissé
Au sommet
De leur jeu
Et j’ai pleuré
Tout seul
Sans arrêt, comme une veille chute d’eau
Mais quand
Tu n’es pas retourné, pour retrouver
Ta jeunesse d’antan
Pourquoi
Personne ne vient
Pour me demander?
Comment
Oui, comment j’ai arrêté
De pleurer
Question From A Broken Heart (English)
Long live the hero
The neighbors’ song of praise
And you-
You left me
To the top
Of their game
And I cried
Alone
Nonstop, like an ancient waterfall
But when
You didn’t come back, to rediscover
Your long lost youth
Why
Nobody is coming
To ask me ?
How,
Yes, how I stopped
From weeping
He intends to challenge you
Has thrown down the gauntlet
Vitriol the weapon, a face slap
I am the go-between, the help-meet
And spectator
I sign treaties
Running with the dawn
Gunmetal grey mists
Layer upon layer, a mille feux
Shards of early motes
Watered in pastels, shot silks
Pale lilac and gold.
Look at him pacing his own stage
His small corner, his fifteen minutes
He has poisoned me with innuendo
Red matador words
Lying in the long grass
Whispering and keening
Like a lover
I am imprinted there
And the bell tower clock leans and listens
The long dark eye of the doe casts down
The stricken north winds whine
The curtain falls.