L’esprit se éveille – the spirit wakens

“Spring is nature’s way of saying ‘Let’s party!”       –  Robin Williams 

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”   –  Pablo Neruda

“Spring has returned. The earth is like a child that knows poems.”  

–  Rainer Maria Rilke

*

L’esprit se éveille – the spirit wakens

The distance between

Today – l’printemps

Now can be measured

In heartbeats

Almond blossoms

Like puffs of pink and white

Snow filling out branches

Greying clouds play tag

In azure skies

Hiding the sunlight

Like children who have stolen

Cookies from the cooling rack

Hyacinthus; rose, bleu, blanche

Mon esprit se réveille

My hunger immense

The waters of the cascade

Tumble into turquoise waters

I climb out of grey woolen

Despair and reach for the sun

*

Bisous,

Léa

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Tempest Tamer

“Never argue with a fool. Onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.” – Mark Twain

*

Tempest Tamer

Twain said it – I believe it

Experience as a therapist

Proves it over and over

Again

 

And again in the bar

The party of elite

Voices rising takes me

Back

 

In graduate school

Stressing the importance

Conflict resolution

The angriest client speaks

First

 

Survival skills honed in

Infancy – an excellent listener

Often called on to diffuse the

Tempest

 

There was one storm

Where failure was

Abysmal – one does not choose

Parents

 

*

Bisous,

Léa

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Fly, fly higher farther… French poem professionally translated to English.

Léa:

C’est magnifique!

Originally posted on oawritingspoemspaintings:

Envol, plus haut plus loin... ©copyright2015owpp Envol, plus haut plus loin…
©copyright2015owpp

This poem was written after I had read Boileau’s “Oeuvres I Satires, le lutrin”. He was born in 1636 & today, belongs to the French classics. The only word that comes to my mind concerning his style is, magnificent. Discovering it at this time in my life gives me the advantage of grasping & appreciating the genius & depth of this master of literature.
This poem is mostly philosophising about the adventure & thrill of journeys in the mode of transportation we use today (which is mostly airplanes) & its origins.
I wrote this poem in French & as its level is higher than usual I preferred to get the help of a professional translator. I found it extremely difficult to keep its original flavour & twist which can sometimes get lost in search of a word or sentence in another language.
The work…

View original 426 more words

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Out Now: Dancing in the Rain

Léa:

I’m going to get my copy! Don’t miss out!

Originally posted on Bennison Books :

chriscover

Chris Moran found poetry and poetry found her. She recovered from alcoholism only to be faced with a long-delayed diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, experiences documented in her first volume of poetry with honesty, humility and humour.

She doesn’t deny the sadnesses in life, and acknowledges with a clear eye the despair that can sometimes take us unawares, but she is always pulled towards joy, and gently takes the reader with her. 

She is also a bold experimenter, and here we find a sonnet about bees, a villanelle about approaching spring (the poet’s favourite time of  year), and haiku about her unborn grandchildren:

Tiny seed planted
germination soon in place
fruit of the autumn.

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Aging Nude Before A Mirror

Léa:

A brutally honest poet makes peace with his ageing self. Beautiful! Is it any wonder he is one of my favourites?

Originally posted on Dark Matter:

New poem.

inside this 
clothing
an average wrapper of
slightly sagging skin upon
an average man
who’s been eaten smaller
by his age

he undresses himself
before sleep

stands in front of
a former enemy
a mirror

sees
wisdom about
and love for
himself
revealed in how
his folded hands rest
upon his loose husk
of a belly

those things
were once

so hard
to see

now they stand out
against approaching
Dark

and offer him
surprising 
comfort
before Sleep

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Language of Hands

Léa:

This post is so beautiful and profoundly touching! It goes right to the core of the heart.

Originally posted on Steve McCurry's Blog:

Behold the hands
how they promise, conjure, appeal, menace, pray, supplicate,
refuse, beckon, interrogate, admire, confess, cringe, instruct, command, 
mock and what not besides, with a variation and multiplication of
variation which makes the tongue envious.
– Michel de Montaigne

AFGHN-10164NF7_blogMazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan

AFGHN-12947Bamiyan, Afghanistan

CUBA-10016Havana, Cuba

USA-10796NFAuthor Mary Brown Ward, Alabama, United States

The hands which beckon,
embrace, soothe, and comfort us
Bid us farewell.

RUSSIA-10108NFRussia

USA-10169NF2United States

Hands calm us, feed us, and scratch our backs.
They intimidate, bless, encourage, and stop us.  They soothe and caress.
They draw our attention to the good and the bad, often suggesting exuberance or fear.
- Charles Flowers introduction to Elliott Erwitt’s Handbook

UGANDA-10002NFUganda

KASHMIR-10020Kashmir

Our hands often reveal what we really think but do not say.
They can show a range of feelings and emotions from confusion and frustration
to joy, understanding, love, and compassion. 

MALI-10008 Mali

USA-10003United States

Let us touch the…

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Tueur orage

“She’s sociopathic. She will have no moral compunction in doing whatever is in her interests. It’s a simple as that.”   – Alexander McCall Smith, The Sunday Philosophy Club

 

 *

 

Tueur orage

Yes!

I must say it in French

The words more

Menacing than storm

Killer works either way

She was the darkest of

Une tornade – invisible or hovering

Fierce – ready to strike

Panther-esque

Orage – filled with rage

Her tiny frame

Violent, destructive

Wrecking havoc on

Lives of anyone who

Dared enter her periphery

Eyes of an eagle, tracking

Movements of her prey

Strikes – random,

Frequent, demoralizing

Slicing each victim to

Bone – carcass gleaned

Yet careful to conceal

Her handiwork – life in a

Minefield – can anyone

Call this living?

Husband dies young

She cannot harm him again

Destruction – annihilating

Narcissistic sociopaths – a

Darkness light cannot penetrate

*

Bisous,

Léa

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