Les Fenêtres

Related poetry:

1. Spleen (IV) Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle Sur l’esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis, Et que de l’horizon embrassant tout le cercle Il nous verse un jour noir plus triste que les nuits; Quand la terre est changée en un cachot humide, Où l’espérance, comme un chauve-souris, S’en va battant le […]...
2. Au Lecteur La sottise, l’erreur, le péché, la lésine, Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps, Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords, Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine. Nos péchés sont têtus, nos repentirs sont lâches; Nous nous faisons payer grassement nos aveux, Et nous rentrons gaiement dans le chemin bourbeux, Croyant par de vils pleurs laver […]...
3. L'Adieu J’ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère L’automne est morte souviens-t’en Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère Et souviens-toi que je t’attends...
4. La dètresse s'enroule Poem by Anne-Marie Derése. Le volcan en attente au fond de nous Ronge, creuse, tremble, Soupése ses chances. La dètresse s’enroule, Se tasse comme une bНte malade. Nous sommes mèconnaissables, Uniques, Avec la certitude de notre fèrocitè....
5. Tournesol La voyageuse qui traverse les Halles à la tombée de l’été Marchait sur la pointe des pieds Le désespoir roulait au ciel ses grands arums si beaux Et dans le sac à main il y avait mon rêve ce flacon de sels Que seule a respiré la marraine de Dieu Les torpeurs se déployaient comme […]...
6. Une Charogne Rappelez-vous l’objet que nous vîmes, mon âme, Ce beau matin d’été si doux : Au détour d’un sentier une charogne infame Sur un lit semé de cailloux, Les jambes en l’air, comme une femme lubrique, Brûlante et suant les poisons, Ouvrait d’une façon nonchalante et cynique Son ventre plein d’exhalaisons. Le soleil rayonnait sur cette […]...
7. September 22 It’s the day of the ram And the head of the year Rosh Ha’Shanah at Services I sat next to Mel Torme who outshone All comers with his bar Mitzvah heroics while on My left is Barnett Newman Big talker whose favorite Subjects include the horses And the stock market he Knows the odds the […]...
8. The Little Piou-Piou (The French “Tommy”). Oh, some of us lolled in the chateau, And some of us slinked in the slum; But now we are here with a song and a cheer To serve at the sign of the drum. They put us in trousers of scarlet, In big sloppy ulsters of blue; In boots that are […]...
9. Dans le Restaurant LE garçon délabré qui n’a rien à faire Que de se gratter les doigts et se pencher sur mon épaule: “Dans mon pays il fera temps pluvieux, Du vent, du grand soleil, et de la pluie; C’est ce qu’on appelle le jour de lessive des gueux.” (Bavard, baveux, à la croupe arrondie, Je te prie, […]...
10. Black Stone on Top of a White Stone I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm, On a day I already remember. I shall die in Paris it does not bother me Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn. It shall be a Thursday, because today, Thursday As I put down these lines, I have set my shoulders To the evil. Never […]...
11. Les idéaux Des montagnes enneigées, Des monuments anciens, Le nord qui nous signe, La pensée qui coule, Des images mouillées Par les hymnes de notre histoire, Des mots épigraphiques Faits par des idéaux géométriques....
12. It can't be "Summer"! It can’t be “Summer”! That got through! It’s early yet for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White to cross Before the Blackbirds sing! It can’t be “Dying”! It’s too Rouge The Dead shall go in White So Sunset shuts my question down With Cuffs of Chrysolite!...
13. Epitaph In The Form Of A Ballade Freres humains qui apres nous vivez, N’ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis… Men, brother men, that after us yet live, Let not your hearts too hard against us be; For if some pity of us poor men ye give, The sooner God shall take of you pity. Here are we five or six strung up, […]...
14. La courbe de tes yeux La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur, Un rond de danse et de douceur, Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr, Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j’ai vécu C’est que tes yeux ne m’ont pas toujours vu. Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée, Roseaux du vent, […]...
15. Le Verbe Кtre Je connais le dйsespoir dans ses grandes lignes. Le dйsespoir n’a pas d’ailes, il ne Se tient pas nйcessairement а une table desservie sur une terrasse, le soir, au bord de La mer. C’est le dйsespoir et ce n’est pas le retour d’une quantitй de petits faits Comme des graines qui quittent а la nuit […]...
16. Menelaus and Helen I Hot through Troy’s ruin Menelaus broke To Priam’s palace, sword in hand, to sate On that adulterous whore a ten years’ hate And a king’s honour. Through red death, and smoke, And cries, and then by quieter ways he strode, Till the still innermost chamber fronted him. He swung his sword, and crashed into […]...
17. The Young Ones, Flip Side In tight pants, tight skirts, Stretched or squeezed, Youth hurts, Crammed in, bursting out, Flesh will sing And hide its doubt In nervous hips, hopping glance, Usurping rouge, Provoking stance. Put off, or put on, Youth hurts. And then It’s gone....
18. Je Suis Poem by Anne-Marie Derése Je suis le fer rouge Sur l’èpaule du condamnè, Le gibet et la corde, La hache et le billot, Le fouet et la croix. Je suis la dent du lion Dans la chair de la gazelle. J’ai dans mes veines Le sang de nègriers. Bourreau, J’ai mèritè la faim des loups. […]...
19. Father Explains “There where that ray touches the plain And the shadows escape as if they really ran, Warsaw stands, open from all sides, A city not very old but quite famous. “Farther, where strings of rain hang from a little cloud, Under the hills with an acacia grove Is Prague. Above it, a marvelous castle Shored […]...
20. Study Of Loneliness A guardian of long-distance conduits in the desert? A one-man crew of a fortress in the sand? Whoever he was. At dawn he saw furrowed mountains The color of ashes, above the melting darkness, Saturated with violet, breaking into fluid rouge, Till they stood, immense, in the orange light. Day after day. And, before he […]...
21. Salvage GUNS on the battle lines have pounded now a year Between Brussels and Paris. And, William Morris, when I read your old chapter on The great arches and naves and little whimsical Corners of the Churches of Northern France Brr-rr! I’m glad you’re a dead man, William Morris, I’m glad You’re down in the damp […]...
22. Visage volè l'oiseau Poem by Anne-Marie Derése Je ne sais qui tu caches Sous ton visage inventè, Ton visage volè l’oiseau, Emprisonnè de cendre rouge. Je vais t’aimer comme on meurt. Je vais te garder Pour les annèes venir. Tu seras si apprivoisè, Si incroyable, Mon ètrange animal, Avec tes lévres ouverte Sur un sourire perdu. Je boirai […]...
23. Evening water for dance Shadows last. Walk the paris streets, Slow. Sweet rain, All their eyes linger Within my soul, Evening. – jude...
24. Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday So let me have the rouge again, And comb my hair the curly way. The poor young men, the dear young men They’ll all be here by noon today. And I shall wear the blue, I think- They beg to touch its rippled lace; Or do they love me best in pink, So sweetly flattering […]...
25. A Song of Departure Warm rain and soft breeze by turns Have just broken And driven away the chill. Moist as the pussy willows, Light as the plum blossoms, Already I feel the heart of Spring vibrating. But now who will share with me The joys of wine and poetry? Tears streak my rouge. My hairpins are too heavy. […]...
26. The sunshine seeks my little room The sunshine seeks my little room To tell me Paris streets are gay; That children cry the lily bloom All up and down the leafy way; That half the town is mad with May, With flame of flag and boom of bell: For Carnival is King to-day; So pen and page, awhile farewell....
27. Apparition La lune s’attristait. Des sйraphins en pleurs Rкvant, l’archet aux doigts, dans le calme des fleurs Vaporeuses, tiraient de mourantes violes De blancs sanglots glissant sur l’azur des corolles. -C’йtait le jour bйni de ton premier baiser. Ma songerie aimant а me martyriser S’enivrait savamment du parfum de tristesse Que mкme sans regret et sans […]...
28. L'Invitation au Voyage Mon enfant, ma soeur, Songe à la douceur, D’aller là-bas, vivre ensemble! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir, Au pays qui te ressemble! Les soleils mouillés, De ces ciels brouillés, Pour mon esprit ont les charmes, Si mystérieux, De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme […]...
29. A Man Young And Old: X. His Wildness O bid me mount and sail up there Amid the cloudy wrack, For peg and Meg and Paris’ love That had so straight a back, Are gone away, and some that stay Have changed their silk for sack. Were I but there and none to hear I’d have a peacock cry, For that is natural […]...
30. Sonnet XXXVI: Lead Me, Sicilian Maids Lead me, Sicilian Maids, to haunted bow’rs, While yon pale moon displays her faintest beams O’er blasted woodlands, and enchanted streams, Whose banks infect the breeze with pois’nous flow’rs. Ah! lead me, where the barren mountain tow’rs, Where no sounds echo, but the night-owl’s screams, Where some lone spirit of the desart gleams, And lurid […]...
31. Sonnet V: O! How Can Love O! How can LOVE exulting Reason queil! How fades each nobler passion from his gaze! E’en Fame, that cherishes the Poet’s lays, That fame, ill-fated Sappho lov’d so well. Lost is the wretch, who in his fatal spell Wastes the short Summer of delicious days, And from the tranquil path of wisdom strays, In passion’s […]...
32. Llewellyn and the Tree Could he have made Priscilla share The paradise that he had planned, Llewellyn would have loved his wife As well as any in the land. Could he have made Priscilla cease To goad him for what God left out, Llewellyn would have been as mild As any we have read about. Could all have been […]...
33. THE COLOSSUS (Goya, an old man in exile, looks at his self-portrait) A bull’s neck, still much needed, Deserving exile or the guillotine, ‘Because you are an artist we forgave you’, Thus his royal highness gave thanks, My fingers itching for brush and canvas, Floury cheeks and rouge, legs a donkey would be ashamed of, A wife […]...
34. Twelve Years The line That remained, that Became true: . . . your House in Paris become The alterpiece of your hands. Breathed through thrice, Shone through thrice. ………………. It’s turning dumb, turning deaf Behind our eyes. I see the poison flower In all manner of words and shapes. Go. Come. Love blots out its name: to […]...
35. Oh To Be Odd! Hypochondriacs Spend the winter at the bottom of Florida and the summer on top of The Adirondriacs. You go to Paris and live on champagne wine and cognac If you’re dipsomognac. If you’re a manic-depressive You don’t go anywhere where you won’t be cheered up, and people say “There, there!” if your bills are excessive. […]...
36. Maximism What I propose is not Marxism, which is not dead yet in the English department, Not maximalism, which was a still-born alternative to minimalism, Nor Maxism, which rests on adulation of Max Beerbohm, parodist nonpareil, But maximism, the love of adages, Or Maximism, the advocacy of maximum gastronomic pleasure on the model of a meal […]...
37. Bojangles And Jo Stairstep music: ups, Downs, Bill Robinson smiling, Jazzdancing the rounds. She raised champagne lips, Danced inside banana hips. All Paris wooed Jo. Banana panties, Perfumed belt, Jazz tatooing Lush ecstasies felt. Josephine, royal, Jewelling her dance, flushing The bosom of France....
38. 255. Verses to Miss Cruickshank BEAUTEOUS Rosebud, young and gay, Blooming in thy early May, Never may’st thou, lovely flower, Chilly shrink in sleety shower! Never Boreas’ hoary path, Never Eurus’ pois’nous breath, Never baleful stellar lights, Taint thee with untimely blights! Never, never reptile thief Riot on thy virgin leaf! Nor even Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing […]...
39. 46. The Belles of Mauchline IN Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a’; Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, In Lon’on or Paris, they’d gotten it a’. Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland’s divine, Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw: There’s beauty and fortune to […]...
40. Hymn 153 The distemper, folly, and madness of sin Sin, like a venomous disease, Infects our vital blood; The only balm is sovereign grace, And the physician, God. Our beauty and our strength are fled, And we draw near to death; But Christ the Lord recalls the dead With his almighty breath. Madness by nature reigns within, […]...