From time to time a poem

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14 Apr 2016 09:34 - 14 Apr 2016 10:00 #237803 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 84

Sous un Ciel blanc
D'un désert récent,
Maman parlait avec un vieil homme
Que je ne connaissais pas.

À l'autre côté,
Les restes d'un café
– à savoir, plus rien qu'un bout du mur
la banquette et deux tables – ,
Vide.

J'arrivai là
Où ils furent assis
À une table en bois lès une route en terre,
Sèche et poussiéreuse,
Sous un soleil de plomb.

Maman me dit :
« Si tu veux quelque-chose,
Vas-y maintenant car
Il n'y a plus beaucoup de temps. »

J'allai dans la maison familiale,
Ou, plutôt dans ce qu'en restait,
La partie haute n'étant plus reconnaissable
Comme une maison,
Descendis des marches
Dans un cellier...

Ça et là, tout au hasard,
Entassés sans motif,
Furent des choses à moi :
Quelques jouets préférés,
Une peluche particulièrement adorée
Et des indénombrables livres...

...Tous couvert d'une couche épaisse de poussière.

Je pris ma peluche dans les mains
– pas encore très souillées –
Et fis le tour.
Il y eut trop à regarder,
Trop à remarquer,
Trop de quoi me souvenir...
Mais aucun sac.

Je posai tendrement
La peluche à côté d'un tas de vieux livres
Et remontai les marches...

En retournant où j'étais auparavant,
Maman et l'inconnu furent partis,
Or, assis sur la banquette du café,
Une petite famille,
Bien coiffés, bien habillés
En très respectables bien-pensants :
Madame, à gauche,
Monsieur, à droite
Et entre eux, deux jeunes garçons...

Celui à côte du Monsieur,
Un petit, blond, environ huit ans ;
Celui à côté de Madame,
Un jeune homme qui connut des secrets.

Ils souriaient tous dans ce désert
Que fut naguère une (presque) civilisation,
Un sourire qui semblait dire :
« Vous voyez ? C'est mieux comme ça, non ? »

Comme j'avançais
Vers là, où ils furent assis
Souriant
Selon une morale surréelle,
Les camions noirs arrivèrent,
Un nuage claire de poussière
De la route flottait
Dans l’ambiguïté...

Lorsque je fus venu
Devant eux, mais à une distance
« Respectable »,
Les hommes en armure noire,
Débarqués des camions noirs,
Dans ce nuage de terre claire,
Prirent position
Tout autour, toutes armes parées...

Je regardai le jeune homme aux secrets
Et lui fis :

« Tu ne m'as pas reconnu. »

La seule réponse
Fut cet insipide sourire
De bien-pensant...

Je me retournai
Et marchai dans le sens opposé
Vers je n'eus su où ;
Derrière moi
Les coups de feu résonnèrent.

Je continuai mon chemin...

*

Under a white Sky
Of a recent desert,
Mum was talking to an old man
That I didn't know.

At the other side,
The ruins of a café
– that is, nothing but a piece of wall
the bench and two tables –,
Empty.

I arrived there
Where they were sitting
At a wooden table by a dirt road,
Dry and dusty,
Under a glaring sun.

Mum told me :
“If you want anything,
Go now for
There isn't much time.”

I went into the family house,
Or, rather into what was left of it,
The upper part being nothing recognisable
As a house,
Went down some steps
Into a cellar...

Here and there, haphazardly,
Stacked without motif,
Were some of my things :
A few favourite toys,
A particularly adored stuffed bear
And uncountable books...

...All covered with a thick coat of dust.

I took my bear in hands
– Not yet too soiled –
And made my rounds.
There was too much to look at,
Too much to notice,
Too much to remember...
And no bag.

I put tenderly down
The bear next to a stack of old books
And went back up the steps...

Upon returning to where I was before,
Mum and the unknown man had gone,
Yet, seated on the café bench,
A little family,
Well-styled, well-dressed
In very self righteous respectability ;
The lady at the left,
The man at the right
And between them, two young boys...

The one next to the man,
A little, blond boy, about eight years old ;
The one next to the lady,
A young man who knew a lot of secrets.

They all were smiling in this desert
That was once (almost) a civilisation,
A smile that seemed to say :
“You see ? It's better this way, isn't it ?”

As I advanced
Toward there, where they were sitting
Smiling
According to a surreal morality,
The black transports arrived,
A light cloud of dust
From the road floated
In the ambiguity...

When I came
Before them, but remaining
At a “respectable” distance,
The men in black armour,
Debarked from black transports,
In a cloud of light earth,
Took position
All around, all arms readied...

I looked at the young man of secrets
And said to him :

“You did not recognise me.”

The only response
Was that stupid
Self-righteous smile...

I turned
And walked away in the opposite direction
Toward where, I didn't know :
Behind me
The gunshots resounded.

I continued on my way...
Alexandre Orion
13-14 avril 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
Last edit: 14 Apr 2016 10:00 by Alexandre Orion.

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30 Apr 2016 22:58 #239866 by Edan
Replied by Edan on topic From time to time a poem
Next random installment of my non-poetry...

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since the cathedral had served its first purpose, that of a place of worship.

The stone altar, which had so far been swallowed by the shadow unnoticed, stood now in a pool of candlelight. A circle of red church candles surrounded it, each barely melted and smelling strongly of their wax. The book from the plinth now rested on the altar open to a page around the beginning, one of the earlier writings and less legible. The robes I barely ever wore hung heavy on me, a mirror of the feelings I had about not having performed the ritual more often.

My finger on the page at the first words, I noticed suddenly that he was standing beside me.
“This is for you,” I said, confused.

“And I am here for you” he replied. I nodded.

I lit the incense and together we spoke the ancient words, their sound echoing not just throughout the cathedral but through my own body. They sounded like nonsense but each word held a meaning understood by flesh as well as mind. I was the priest, not just in robe and word, but in feeling and knowledge also. I struck the gong and the sound reverberated through every cell in my body and every thought in my head… for a moment the two of us were one within the sound, both vibrating at the same frequency. I knew all that he knew, felt what he felt, thought as he thought… all manner of being directed into this channel, him experiencing my reflection in return.

The sound dissolved, my consciousness returning to my own… I breathed deeply in the found silence and felt a new strength.

“Thank you” I said, turning to him… but he was no longer there. And I noticed, as I looked down at my hand on the book, that I was now wearing his ring.

Understanding in the place of indifference
Compassion in the place of cruelty
Action in the place of apathy
Peace in the place of violence
Mercy in the place of vengeance
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07 May 2016 12:49 #240450 by Edan
Replied by Edan on topic From time to time a poem
Just Wait - Anon

I said to my soul, be still and wait,
And wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing
And wait without love
For love could be love for the wrong thing

And wait without thought
For you are not yet ready for the thought

There is yet faith
But, the faith, and the love, and the hope, are all in the waiting.

So the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing!

Understanding in the place of indifference
Compassion in the place of cruelty
Action in the place of apathy
Peace in the place of violence
Mercy in the place of vengeance
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09 May 2016 20:33 #240622 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 85

Sur ce chemin profane,
Pas pour pas, reconnu jusqu'à l'oubli,
D'Ouest en Est, pour attirer la prochaine aube –
Celle de ce matin passée il y a des siècles.

Ce jour ordinaire,
Un chiffre dans l'incalculable quotidien,
Bourdonne des millions de pensées –
Mais non pas une seule idée.

Soudain,
Comme l'écart d'un rideau dentelé,
La demi-lune de la même couleur que les nuages
Suscite une étincelle de merveille :

Une découverte révélée par l'anodin,
Le souvenir jaillit d'une grâce fortuite
D'une fraîcheur comme celle ab origine,
Retrouvée à mi-chemin profane
Au jardin du sacré.

*

On this vulgar path,
Step by step, recognisable to the point of forgetfulness,
From West to East to attract the next dawn –
The one of this morning passed centuries ago.

This ordinary day,
A number in the incalculable everyday,
Buzzing with millions of thoughts –
But not one single idea.

Suddenly,
As parting a lace curtain,
The half-moon of the same whiteness as the clouds
Kindles a spark of wonder :

A discovery revealed by familiarity,
The memory springs from a fortuitous grace
Of a freshness like that ab origine,
Found again by mid-way vulgarity
In the garden of the sacred.
Alexandre Orion
09 mai 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
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09 May 2016 20:37 #240623 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 86

Ainsi me trouvai-je
En pleine compagne
Par une nuit sans lune
Ni étoile
Mais par la lueur des deux...

Faisant un pause dans mon chemin
Que je ne sus amorcé,
La route, de ce côté, délabrée par l'oubli ;
Celle derrière eut été entretenue,
Ainsi que celle que je venais
De traverser...

Par la pâle lumière
Sans source ni ressource,
Je contemplai les champs,
Vert-noirs dans la nuit,
Et le spectre du seul arbre –
Seul témoin de mon périple pausé.

Trois branches du carrefour
Non loin derrière,
En vue et aisément atteignables,
S'étendirent aux horizons plus lumineux,
Droites, lisses, accueillantes...

Celle sous mes pieds
Disparaissait dans les ténèbres,
Prometteuse d'une marche difficile.

Peut-être la pondérai-je un moment
Ou peut-être non :
Je mendiai une branche du sylvain
En tant qu'un bâton
Et continuai mon chemin
Qui ne saurait aboutir.

*

Thus I found myself
Somewhere in the country-side
By a night with neither
Moon nor stars
But by the light of both...

Pausing in my path
That I didn't know I had begun,
The route, on this side, broken by neglect ;
The one behind had been well maintained
As well as that which I had just
Crossed...

By the pale light
Without source nor resource,
I contemplated the fields,
Green-black in the night,
And the spectre of the sole tree –
Only witness to my paused trek.

Three branches of the crossroads
Not far behind,
In sight and easily attained,
Stretched to brighter horizons,
Straight, smooth, welcoming...

The one under my feet
Disappeared into the darkness,
Promising a difficult march.

Perhaps I pondered it a moment
Or maybe not :
I begged a branch from the sylvan
To serve as a cane
And continued my path
That would be unending.
Alexandre Orion
09 mai 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
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23 May 2016 22:02 #241985 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 87

Si seulement par la Volonté
On pouvait faire appel à la Grâce,
Quelle magique pourrait-on commander !

Mais, par cette commande
Commettre une conjuration dans l'empire du Sens,
Transposant vraie amour en haine
Et vrai bien en mal...

*

If only by Will
Could one call upon Grace,
What magic one could command !

But, by that command
Commit a conspiracy in the Empire of Sense,
Transposing true love into hatred
And true goodness into evil...
Alexandre Orion
23 mai 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
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26 May 2016 23:22 - 26 May 2016 23:24 #242353 by Edan
Replied by Edan on topic From time to time a poem
Another one...

The sun was rising above the city; I sat on the rooftop of the cathedral, leaning back on my elbows, admiring the bleeding of red and orange sun into a lightening blue sky. The people down below, the few who were out, were small and difficult to make out. I had watched them only briefly when the terracotta tiles had first become my seat.

There was a slight breeze rustling leaves, and a pleasant chill to the air, the smell of the morning waking up the world.

Footsteps behind, then the familiar presence joined me at the edge.

“This is an unusual spot for you” he noted, as he sat himself, legs dangling, over the edge of the roof.

“Sometimes I need to remind myself the light is there” I replied, and it was especially beautiful this particular morning.

“Pensive?”

“Always.”

“So tell me about it.” It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, there was a warmth to his words that always comforted. Minutes in his company, or hours, he always had the time, exactly the right time, to listen.

“Whenever I think I have solved my issues with how I feel, I find that I in fact simply moved them about a bit.”

“Well,” he replied, admiring the sun briefly, “that is because it is not a problem that has a solution, as you think.” He tensed a little, “you see, whenever we talk you go away feeling that you’re somehow a little broken still. You put those feelings to the back of your mind and you leave here for a while, you go out into the world and be one of those little people below."

There was a shout below us, both looking down to see its origin, it faded, and our attentions returned.

“You hold everything in, retreating into yourself so you can be ‘normal’ for just a little while. But then who you really are starts to gain strength again, slowly taking hold and for a while you own that.”

Listening was hard and I found that I couldn’t look at him as he spoke, my focus honed on birds on a distant rooftop.

“Look at me!”

Momentarily I paused, before I broke my gaze and slowly met his eyes.

“But, you let the fear of being strange beat you down again. And in the shadows you show yourself only to the little flame, before extinguishing it once the day is done.”

He leaned forward and took my hand with both of his, “Be you! In all that you are, in all that you believe, seize it! And don’t be afraid."

Understanding in the place of indifference
Compassion in the place of cruelty
Action in the place of apathy
Peace in the place of violence
Mercy in the place of vengeance
Last edit: 26 May 2016 23:24 by Edan.
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06 Jun 2016 11:37 #243558 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 88

Les marées d'espoir
Se lèvent et tombent
Sous l'attirance de l'une
Et de l'autre lune.

La haute marée
Remplit les bassins côtiers,
Inonde la promenade
Et renouvelle le rivage.

La tombée des eaux
Révèle sur la plage
Ce que la profondeur
Rend au Jour.

*

The tides of hope
Rise and fall
Under the attraction of one
And the other moon.

The high tide
Fills the coastal basins,
Floods the promenade
And renews the shore.

The receding of the waters
Reveals on the beach
That which the deep
Yields to the Day.
Alexandre Orion
06 juin 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
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06 Jun 2016 11:40 #243559 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 89

Hier, j'étais poète ;
Je dessinais des atlas
Des nébuleuses,
Chantais la clarté lunaire,
Harmonisais avec les astres
Au rythme des battements du cœur.

Durant la nuit,
Les nébuleuses gelèrent
Mais mes jolies cartes
Aux couleurs changeantes
Dérivent de la lune
Tandis que tous les battements
Du cœur se concentrent
Sur une seule étoile...

Demain, cette étoile
Sera à l'autre côté du monde,
Mes chansons dériveront vers l'Est
Pour rencontrer le soleil du milieu,
Dessiner sa carte
Embelli par mon astre errant :
Le joyau à l’œil du dragon.

*

Yesterday, I was a poet ;
I drew atlases
Of the nebulae,
Sang moonlight,
Harmonised with the stars
To the rhythm of heart-beats.

During the night,
The nebulae froze
But my pretty plans
With changing colours
Drift away from the moon
Whereas all the heart-beats
Concentrate
On one single star...

Tomorrow, that star
Will be at the other side of the world,
My songs will drift toward the East
To encounter the middle Sun,
Draw its map
Graced by my straying star :
The jewel at the eye of the dragon.
Alexandre Orion
06 juin 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
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10 Jun 2016 20:10 - 10 Jun 2016 20:12 #244417 by Alexandre Orion
Jour 90

Dans quelques semaines
Je verrai une comète ;
Ce bel astre, même vu de loin
– Surtout, peut-être, vu de loin –,
Au cours de sa période,
Brille brièvement de constellation
En constellation,
Venant près de moi
Quelques jours par siècle.

Dans quelques semaines,
Pour quelques jours,
Sa présence lumineuse
Enjolivera mes nuits
Avant de repartir encore
Traverser les astérismes
Tour à tour...

*

In a few weeks
I shall see a comet ;
This beautiful event, even seen from afar
– Especially, perhaps, seen from afar –,
In the course of his period,
Shines briefly from constellation
To constellation,
Coming close to me
For a few days each century.

In a few weeks,
For a few days,
His luminous presence
Will beautify my nights
Before parting once more
To cross the constellations
Turn by turn...
Alexandre Orion
10 juin 2016

"Chaque homme a des devoirs envers l'homme en tant qu'homme."
~ Henri Bergson
Last edit: 10 Jun 2016 20:12 by Alexandre Orion.
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