The actor

The actor

A hungry child on the street

Thinks of food

Sees a friend in the car

Going to school, crying

The tears wash the smiling urchin

Whose legs will act weak and limp

Face to be made up effortlessly with dust

He thanks his trainer

Rains of coins will shower

In his noisy tin

He’d buy something to eat

To feed the weeping stomach

He’d better start his day

Thinks and leaves for the green room

Full of flowers, birds and grasses

Takes some mud, softens it with water

Pulls some hair from his head

Gets a moustache like chaplin or hitler he doesn’t care to know

Hides for sometimes and appears on the stage

Unrecognisable!

He knows poverty doesn’t sell anymore

He knows to sing and dance

To entertain, not bore

The first coin drops

He looks up at the face

Surrounded by the blue sky

another stage, he thinks

smiles and thanks...

It's a common scene in many parts of the world

Le trajet d’un poète

Image credit: Google images

Je comprends qui suis-je

à travers les traces de ma vie, je débarque

dans le son et le silence

certains entendus, certains sentis; j’écris mes lignes

par les plaisirs et les peines,

Je regarde le monde, le mien, je surmonte l'intolérance

histoires perdues, restaurées, dans le choix des possibilités

prends-je des mots, dans le confort, l'agonie des temps à voile

Je coule l'énergie de l'intérieur; au sourire, au sarcasme, je témoigne

mon bateau se déplace, s’arrête avec les vagues doux, agités

Je me découvre aussi comme un nuage au milieu d'un voyage constant

avec la présence patientée de ciel dans mon comportement

mes pas déterminés, humbles pour m’obstiner et survivre excitent la terre

Ai-je le bonheur de procréer des vies avec l’amour en gribouillant

avec l'expérience, je me tourne chaque feuille avec soin; certains acquis, certains partis

dans tous mes moments incessants, passagères, venteux, gagnés, annulés

Je me trouve sur le rivage comme un homme ordinaire, un poète préféré

La version anglaise est disponible sous le nom Journey of a poet.  

 Ce poème peut être apprécié par la lecture de manière inverse; merci de le relire de la ligne 17  à la ligne 1.

Amusez-vous bien!

The journey of a poet

Image credit: Google images

I understand who I am

through the records of my life I land

in sound, silence

some heard, some felt I write my lines

through the pleasures and pains,

I look at the world, my world, I overcome intolerance

stories I lose, restore in the choice of possibilities

capture in words, in the comfort, agony of the sailing times

I ooze energy from within; to the smiling, smirking I witness

my boat moves, stops with the mild, wailing waves

I discover myself also as a cloud in the midst of a constant journey

with the patient presence of sky in my demeanor

my determined, humble steps to push and survive turn the earth on

I procreate lives with love as I scribble along

with experience, I turn every leaf with care; some gained, some left

in all my relentless, transient, windy, gained, annulled moments

I come ashore as a common man, a preferred poet

This poem can also be enjoyed inversely, from line 17 to line 1; it's as if you are moving upwards, taking a leap! The French version is available in the blog with the name 'Le trajet d'un poète'. Enjoy!

Clarté

Image credit: Google images

Clarté

Dans les mots, les images tenues

Dans les sens, les contenus

A quelle signifiance

Dans les chiffres, les croyances

Dans les fois, les jeux de jouissances

A quelle signifiance

La clarté en moi

Veut-elle perdre dans la nature, dans l’unité

Dans l’imprécision, le ravissement, la douleur

Se trouve créance, tous comme une partie dans l’éternité

Les yeux fatigués de différences

Les oreilles dérangées d’intolérance.

A quelle signifiance est ce masque nul

La clarté entre l’aube et le crépuscule

A quelle valeur ce gonflement de l’âme prolifique

Qui ne suit que cet art spécifique

A quelle valeur est-il cet esprit faible

Qui voudrait être aveuglé de fables favorables

Où se trouve la liberté dans la scène

La prison et la cage ne cessent d’être les mêmes   

Brun est condamné d’être différent de noir

La tête perd sa couleur sans sa couronne à voir

Un rossignol chante mais une corneille crie

La beauté ne peut jamais avec le laid sourit

Clarté fabrique des murs qui le tout divisent

C’est contre la nature qui partage et divise

Des ressources inépuisables avec récolte et vivres

Le ciel de refuge saute le mal et le bien entre autres

Clarté, erreur humaine qui empêche de nous vivre

En pleine air, mon esprit débloqué, se trouve danser et rire

Les yeux ne font plus mal, les oreilles ne scandalisent plus

Accablé que je suis, tout est clair dans le domaine de clarté absolue



Note:
La version anglaise est également disponible dans ce blog sous le nom Clarity
The English version is also available in this blog with the name Clarity

Clarity

Image credit: Google images

Clarity

In words, images

In meanings, contents

Of what relevance?

In numbers, in faiths

In beliefs, in games

Of what relevance!

The clarity in me

Wants to lose in nature, in unity

In haziness, in ecstasy, agony

In acceptance, all as part of eternity;

My eyes tired of difference,

My ears fatigued with intolerance.

Of what relevance is this mask

The clarity between a dawn and a dusk

Of what meaning is this pumping heart

Which aligns only with this specific art

Of what significance is this mind

Which chooses but to be blind?

Where’s is the liberty on the stage

When a prison has to differ from a cage,

When a black has to differ from a brown,

A head has no color without a crown,

A nightingale sings but a crow has to cry

Beauty can never with ugly fly!

Clarity creates false walls that divide

It’s against nature that shares and divides

Resources endless with crops and food

The sheltering sky skips the evil and the good.

Clarity a human error that prevents and blocks. 

Out in the air, my mind unlocks!

From the bars, my heart is free
My eyes don't hurt, my ears don't shock

Overwhelmed in the realm of charming clarity. 


Note:
La version française est également disponible dans ce blog sous le nom Clarté s'il vous plaît. 
The French version is also available in this blog with the name Clarté

I am in love

Image credit: Google images

I was conscious of my skin

my flesh, my origin

Was proud of my blood

my bones and my tongue.

Breed, of every little kind

worried organs made noise in my mind.

With these possessions, I set out for love

eyes, tired with judgement

ears lost the balance

I could never forgive

The love, at times there, at times elusive.

Now, with sky as my skin,

brooks and the mud

my flesh and my blood

the sun and the moon

are in my bones, in the tongue,

through the leaves and those grasses

I see and I hear

My sense awakes, arouses

a rhythm in the organs, conscious and clear

unreal it might sound, but I am out of my cocoon

I am in love, will never be out of tune.

Image

Impaired self, a bonsai

Marred in the muddy humdrum

Arms controlled, roots ordered to fit the criteria

Growth innate shouts within for the flowering

Eager to widen beyond the prescribed range



Tried something crazy here!! 

1. The first and the last letters of every line make the word 'image'
2. You could also read from bottom to top to experience something different about cause and effect!

imagination

imagination is another world

infinite, inclusive, unbound with melody still undiscovered

magical, magnanimous, not for mundane muggles to comprehend

assuring, accepting, contained, content, all within

genuine, gregarious, without guilt, in symphony waiting to begin

innocent, instinctive in instants and moments

non-existent negation that melts into nothingness

alert, aware yet often insinuated, ostracised, alienated

tranquil, transient, teeming and transparent

intelligent, replete with stories untold, with ignorance ignored

omnipotent with possibilities manifold

nature's gift to humankind present in a humming tune heard, unheard

imagination is another world

impermanence

Clouds,

In my sky,

A bliss!

Travellers, nomads

Everywhere

In my eyes, hands and ears

In my feet

In my smiles dormant for years

I feel light

Full of possibilities, hopes

In this vagueness I want to remain 

Fresh, aware with matters contain
In what I can’t clearly see

I can clearly see

Clarity the only felony

Just a moment

Hold on please

I am so much me, so much at ease
Let me be with these transient beings

I see infinite shades of whites and blacks

With you there are only two!
You are so heavy, so much in blue

I see countless drops of efforts from my relentless sea

What you ignored overlooked as destiny

I hear a string of things

In the realm of nameless nothings

Clarity the only felony

Lower your pace

Hold on...

For a moment

Please?

Let me float in this height...

For some more time

In crowds of words so proud with fame
I know with them I will fall again

To flourish nurture and nourish your name

Chairship zone

 

No appetite.

Knock, knock

Hello, who is this

It’s me

(the door opens)

 

O you

Come, sit

I have no track of time

You could have come just a while ago

But moments seem years to me

Ah yes, I know you’ve done horrible things

To merit this seat,

This sailing seat, on fire, is yours!

How many times have I told you

Not to come when I am alone?

(smiles)

 

You seem to find me in my time!

Are you addicted to me?

Am I your grass?

Okay, since you’ve come

Let us see the home...

 

I know we’ve seen this many times

Still, many times is first time

Now, please hold the chair

You’ll fall otherwise

Hold it tight else you will fall into the mundane

Now see!

 

Can you smell her in the kitchen?

Her apron smells like the food

Orange with happiness,

She talks to the vegetables

When they float in heated oil

Do you see?

Yes! Go on...

When she was preparing the food

Your aroused hands snatched her

From the kitchen,

You went here and there with her

To those shelves, those walls

Made love...

You held her

Just after she’d picked the cauliflower

From her organic kitchen garden

You arrived at more or less the same time

A thousand fold times,

In thousand old ways

 

Happy?

Now, go, leave

I don’t want you anymore

For you’ll remind me of the library...

Whilst I could smell the books

You wretch!

You cheated on her

For the one who came mopping your floor?

You were talking to those pages

To those shelves, to those walls

You heard those frying sounds still

You smelt that engaged apron,

Preparing a romantic meal for you?

You remember?

Right in the middle of those authors

Who wrote about this, through time, many fold times

In many old ways

Those books have seen the act

Your art of concealing fact

You read them all, and yet you dared...

 

But hang on, we never had a help

I had that one pair of hands

She was my maid

And I never confabulate with inanimate objects

You know that

(smiles) 

You are a wretch, planting cauliflowers in me

You pervert reader

Go burn in the seat

 

O sanity, the only adultery

Why do you appear in my zone?

And to you, thanks for coming

You can leave 

Let the chair loose...

Now I am hungry.

(the door closes)

some of you might enjoy...others might not...life has many voices, but the one that's within matters because that's what genuinely is, that’s what you have and that’s what you can offer