nature

Rivière

C'est un sous bois ou coule une rivière 

Tout est calme et on sent dans l'air

Une odeur de mousse, très légère

 

La passoire des arbres filtre le liquide soleil, 

Parfois une feuille tombe, vermeille

On ferme les yeux, on entend une abeille

 

Mollement, une salamandre comateuse

Du haut de sa souche creuse

Observe avec envie une bonne limace juteuse

 

Tout est calme, tout est tranquille

On sent dans l'air le parfum d'Avril

Pendant que loin, très loin, le temps file.

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Papillon

A l'abri de l'homme, dans un petit sous-bois

Au dessus de la mare et sous le chant des oiseaux

Virevolte un papillon dans l'air chaud 

Qui sans lui ne serait qu'un palais sans roi

 

De mille couleurs, répandant sa poudre dorée 

De sa danse enchantée, une valse de toute beauté

Ses ailes, fragiles paupières 

Décorent de somptueux motifs la clairière 

 

Mis en extase par le prince des vents

Les rayons solaires pleuvent, arrêtent le temps

Et sur deux fins miroirs naissent mille étincelles 

 

Vraie poudre de fée, cette pluie argentée

Nous badigeonne le coeur d'un sentiment; le bonheur 

Et nous impose de pronomcer deux mots sacrés

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Bleu saphir

Loin sous l'herbe, coup de pioche

Des jeunes hommes soufflent. Combien souffrent encore demain ?

Puis, dans un sursaut, l'un d'eux de sa main 

Dévoile une étoile bleue dans la roche

 

La Terre fut amputée, l'étincelle se meurt

Pas plus grosse qu'un sou, couleur d'océan

Le mineur, dans sa prison de souffre ardent

Ne verra plus qu'en rêve sa couleur

 

Sur le doigt de fer d'un monstre d'acier

La goutte étoilée ne luit plus 

Même pas de quoi éclaire

 

Les sinistres sourires des mangeur de Terre

Qui, en tout point semblables aux vers

Moisissent la pomme et Pourrissent l'espoir.

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Le bal des méduses

 

Sous l’eau, dans les ténèbres et dans le froid

 

Approchent par une dans gracieuse

 

Des comètes de verre, des fils de soie

 

Par une dans merveilleuse viennent les danseuses

 

 

 

Dans un silence d’abysse, des demoiselles arrivent

 

D’un coup les ombres reculent, la couleur renait

 

D’albâtre, de sang, d’herbe ou dorée

 

Scintillent les étoiles à la dérive

 

 

 

La merveille garde les yeux éveillés

 

Tandis que leur bal vous envoute

 

Et leur vague vous font partager leur route

 

 

 

Les lumières au loin s’éteignent, l’âme saigne

 

Et de manière funeste un ballet s’achève

 

Très loin sous l’océan, la baleine est rassasiée.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

 

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Le petit monde des prés du vent

Dans les prés où les papillons batifolent

On s’allonge dans l’herbe, regardant le ciel

On entend quelque chose, un battement d’aile

Les yeux se ferment. Un oiseau s’envole

 

Sur son audacieux brin d’herbe

Une fourmi tient tête à la fraiche brise

Tandis que sur les cerises

Déambulent ses nombreux petits frères

 

En contrebas, un petit ruisseau

Assiste au ballet des libellules,

Qui, excitées par le bruit de l’eau

 

Consument cet amour qui les brulent

Et s’en vont vite, gaiement vers les cieux

Illuminées par les rayons d’argent d’un soleil de feu.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sigma

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God, The Great Creator

A crisp, cool autumn evening,
Stars fill the night up high.
God, the great creator,
Decking out the sky.

A garden lit by the moonlight,
A rose kissed by His hand.
The beauty He created,
Even the smallest pieces of sand.

Petals of the roses
Glisten in the night.
The Master of creation,
His colors are pure delight.

From void He created beauty,
From dark He created light.
The Master of creation,
And to man, He gave them life.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/god-the-great-creator

White Hill Adventure

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About D.L. Brown

I am homemaker and have been writing poems since the early 2000's.
I was inspired by the Pastor of my Church, who was also a school teacher. 
He has encouraged me to write poems.

The majority of my writings have been about Jesus and the Bible.
I believe we all have a hidden talent, a gift that’s been given to us by God. 
It’s like a rough stone that needs to be polished into a diamond.

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Trees In The Green




Trees in the Green

 

A view of the trees

Remembering that they are

life forms jutting out

In cemetery prairies

Also, in parks & parklands

 







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 08.31.2019 (corrected a misspelled word in the Author's Notes/Comments: introspecive - intros*pective); 07.05.2019; 07.02.2019 grammatical error correction: (due *to, versus due *from, self-directedness versus self-directed learning)  


Reedited 06.22.2019 (for corrections regarding the mismatched syllables in the last line which was not seven syllables (when I thought it was before), if the 5-7-5-7-7 basic tanka description is to be followed.  This error was intuitable in that specific time, yet the error was still committed because I thought that I was doing it right  (I would recall that it was possibly due to excitability in those initial moments; & which I only have been able to finally confirm along the way by verifying its initial descriptive notion as I went over it this time (ipso facto, earlier today).  This is a helpful aid in my self-directed learning since this was an issue with descriptivism.



06.07.2019 reedition (for grammatical & semantical errors):



This was just an attempt at composing a "tanka" after a very, very long time that I had not composed one.  Although not published here, I have known that I have created some Japanese poems beforehand  (in the decades that are passé).  Believing, at first, that I was mindfully creating a haiku, which was my 'real intention' (until this was being thought out right now), my recounting proved that I am mistaken (mostly due to the descriptions I once held in my mind to be 'true'—e.g., a 'Gettier problem', in an epistemological sense).  In my mind, I was wanting to make a poem, in short verses.  And I could not help but recall the 'Japanese art', until later when I began realizing that—via a causal relation—"I might have gotten something wrong" (also by virtue of merely going by the term's/definition's sake).  Both of their definitions were readily available in my mobile device's built-in dictionary & are easily accessible; yet despite that obvious breakthrough of technological convenience, I figured that it is not enough for me to truly grasp the essence of such a particular Japanese "art form" (from an 'a priori' knowledge).  And then, somehow, the 'a posteriori' notion prodded me because of this process in my introspective/reflective note/commentary). This particular poem, (i.e., an actual example of my 'tanka') has got me in that realization.  Its poetic style have me liking it more, which emphatically may have quite something to do with why I liked it all the more (because of its refined/distilled appeal).  Quite, I liked it so much (I thought)..even though I still have yet to figure out both of their distinctive qualities (i.e., tanka vs. haiku) which does not warrant a self-directed learning in any way.  Right now, I cannot yet say why, in terms of technicality, because I just wanted to emphasize a 'particularity' whenever I expound on its adverbialism (in this respect, with my objectification/objectivity).  The rest would be left to the spontaneity of the learning experiences of life.  Although, truthfully, a tanka - how my experimentation turned out to be, has that totally different approach & meaning to poetry (as compared to a "haiku")..while I mistakenly was thinking that I was actually composing a haiku for that matter.  That spontaneous occurrence mattered in that it happened aptly, when I would have liked it to be happening at this time.  The end result is valuable empirical data [outcome].—The mobile device, where the sources of informational products were "actually" taken from, & that which had provided me with the quickest possible reference at the time, was just a particular "language text" defining the "definiendum" ["tanka"].  This was seemingly the recallable driving force and decision point for its final publication.  Thus, it ended up here, howsoever, & that had also given me enough (or more) reasons to examine my poems—in this capacity.  Once again, I apologize for my long notes (which you can expect sometimes whenever I have something to post/to share here).  Kindly please pardon my philosophizing as I have tried to give my comment on several accounts or viewpoints (a multiperspective approach with a lot of contextual dimensions & intertextuality).  Thank you for looking on!

 

 

 

Vernal Equinox LIV

Folder: 
Seasons In Hell



By the flash of the sword of Lucifer thrust imperiously into the heavens, lightning strikes and thunder rolls, the roar of The Draegon echoes throughout the trembling earth, cloven hooves part asunder, the rivers and streams flow fresh, rendered aflame by the Lustful Hellfire of Satan! 

Verdant life bursts forth upon hill and dale, mountains and forest, planes, to greet The Hellements, of flora and fauna, Fleurs Du Mal, Sorath's triumvirate eminence and Luna's enchanted light dance in lush gardens of wondrous nature, tapestries for each creature to paint according to countenance! 

Birthing the demonseeds to grow from mind and earth, upon root and branch and tree and bush, whose fruition is partaken of in earthen communion by the creatures of the land, sea, and air, who give even their own flesh for mutual gratification!

Draegon Ouroboros takes another turn, one season confounds another! Disrobed, the nymph and maiden, Succubus Lilith incarnate in Witches sublime. Flames ascend the tower spire, lights the path to deep desire! 

In Nomine Satanas!

Warlock Draconis Blackthorne
The Infernal Empire, The Black Earth
Vernal Equinox, LIV Anno Satanas

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This year's Equinox is accompanied by The Super Full Moon, ideal for Apotheosis and overall Magical workings. 

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LISTENING TO BAMBOO

Nature graces us with a myriad of sounds…

as we walk around us they swirl

countless sounds when we stop to listen…

that add beauty to our world.

 

We’ve heard thousands of sounds on our walks

but today as a gentle morning breeze blew

before we knew it there we were

listening to bamboo.

 

It may sound a little too emotional…perhaps a bit profound

but when you listen to bamboo…there is a message in the sound.

 

Listen as the leaves are giggling

perhaps what they’re trying to say

Is we should spend more time laughing…

smiling or at play.

 

Hear the bamboo sway in the wind

for there can be no mistake

they are showing us how to be strong

how to bend but not to break.

 

When you listen for a while

you cannot help but see

how there is wisdom in their emptiness

and beauty in their simplicity.

 

I will never tire of the sounds 

of birds singing as they soar,

of the leaves rustling under our feet

or waves crashing on the shore…

 

of the humming of the bees

of the nightingale’s cry

of rain falling on our roof

or thunder in the sky.

 

But every now and I like to stop…

take a moment 

maybe two

when a gentle breeze is blowing…

 

and listen to bamboo.


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