Appoline Romanens

Appoline Romanens Aug 2019

Rainy day of August
Body soaked in water
Blood spilled on the globe
Newspaper, bold typewriter
Announcement: We all trust
Our firms going down the *****
Conscious failures activated
We are up and running
Alarms and seers devaluated
The clock, tick tock, is turning

Oblivious with our existence
We collect data to combat the sentence
"Climate change is an orchestrated plot"
Our oceans swell with our pollution
Take a drag citizen, ‘tis the finest ***
"Global warming for sure is an illusion"
Get down, gulp down the pill of nothingness
Fertile ***** matter, for a ravenous press
Rise with me poets, let’s stand before the storm
This is also with words that awareness we form!

What’s your imprint upon this land
Things do not end as you become sand
This Earth sure will survive grass above our mass
Stones will crumble yet nature will not pass.

Nancy, August 17, 2019

First poem of the summer season written in English. It took me three attempts to get back to it.

#nature #global #warming #climate

Appoline Romanens Apr 2019

Beauty and the Reader

Some prose poems patched in his hands
Suddenly then, ecstasy or hypnosis faces him!
As he was reading, bathing in scents of cedar
She stands before him, disrobed, Phaedra-like and solemn!

He mouthed those lines while blossomed within him
A garden of secrets, rustling beeches
The mused muse came to visit him when
Every morning he read on, gold upon her head

He never put the velvety book down
The air heavy with laughter, desires, and rhymes
The Western wind gently rocked them as they held
Each other…Yet as the last poem echoed, she adamantly fled!

Translated on April 17, 2019
Nancy, France

This is a translation of a poem I wrote in French in early March, exposing the topos that the allegory of inspiration is a fe/male muse to poets

The theme, Beauty, is this year's "Spring of the Poets" topic and inspirational concept for us French poets. It's a sort of national festival celebrating poetry through gatherings, readings, conferences and exhibitions throughout France.

#poetry #muse #inspiration

Appoline Romanens Dec 2018

Dahlia Blue

I thrive to travel
to unravel
a hidden gem,
a curled-up stem,
a somber flower,
Only I can pluck.
her pungent smell,
oceanic swell,
arises in the night,
Half-darkened, half alight.

It has blossomed with pain
turned sky-rain into blue
radiating of survival
And it is not purely evil:
glowing with a queer hue.

‘Tis I this flower I describe
To a Leo born to be bride
Sighing star of a scorpion
Faithful to love for an aeon.

December 26, 2018
Train to Nancy

#love #self #flower #mystery #symbolism

Appoline Romanens Nov 2018

Colors of the mind

It’s joy crumbling down
Smelling
the faintest air of anger
Tumbling
tumbling down into molten
lava, melting, melted down
small ash, turned burning fire
Desperately stunned, joy is stolen.

A snake shushing the silence
facing this combat with but resilience
The sun is scratched stuck to the sky
it rains often, rivers of black tears to cry

She says she’s anxious
He deems her obnoxious
She wants to expurgate
this ill feeling, feeling of hate
She’s born with. A heavy burden
that’s hard to tame, tear or soften.

Humanity
isn't defined
by immunity
I have secrets left behind.

November 18, 2018
Written between 10:44 pm and 11:07 pm.
Lyon

Thank you Jordan Rains to have said I had to go back to writing poetry in English, not just French as I did this month.

Appoline Romanens Oct 2018

Sisyphus’ Legacy

To him, the city is a bustling empire
Of which, at night, she becomes the umpire
Rather than believing she acted out on her dreams
His heart on his sleeve, concealed in fine blue seams.

She knocked on her door. He appears in the frame
His scent intoxicating, she greets him politely
In his tight embrace, she is no longer the same
Stepping into a world where he is hers truly.

She seeks his eyes, he claims her mouth
Above them dangles a lantern and a moth
That can’t take its eyes off them yet struggles
In its bulky body, that their laughter can’t muffle.

Trapped in their desire they undergo the wave
Spindrifts of two bright souls that love attempts to save
The moth can’t take the heat of their burning hearths
Language traces the unfathomable story of their hearts.

Through speech and touch they exchange many an innuendo
They shape the shadows of the city with a fingertip
Sisyphus is the idol they both seem to worship
When they part, for they must, they mutter: “A presto!”

ENSSIB, Lyon
October 5, 2018
For M and A

#love #desire #meeting #couples

Appoline Romanens Aug 2018

Whistleblower

Soiled vital waters
fetid air, putrid eyes
enshrouded in their mess
pray your savior at mass.
Parched throats of children
skyscrapers of greed to worsen
Apocalyptic weathers.

Laughable leaders
******* you whole
you nodded to their role!
A nation forming fighters
Renegades! Ink traded for
a green and gregarious grenade
and in theaters, more horror and gore.

Curl up in bed with your ***** fingers
Ignore the insisting despair that lingers
Unattainable towers of desire
Sketching lines in your petty quire
Shout out to your flag carried by jocks
Olympic games of hardened idiots
Humans on paper, hideous grey flocks.

Sectarian society silenced by dollar signs
stupidly suffering the absurdity of this all
Lather your body in perfumes to find you whole
wash away the stench of your indifference
Gulping down whatever nectar of horrendous hope
Willingly treading down a meaningless lethal *****
Even our dying Earth won’t bend your deterrence!

August 29, 2018
Lyon

Poetical anger

Appoline Romanens Jul 2018

The drunken sailors’ company

This poem was written to describe/honor a boat-shaped wooden sculpture on which a town was built.

Here’s humanity chucked on that tub
Figure the fuss in the ship’s hold
Roaming ‘round the deck, helm is hell for holding
How come that outland ship ain’t capsizing?

They ****** up their toll of ****** *****
Thrown out, left behind, they’re coping with that schism
Roving ‘round Ocean blue between two small isthmus
Grinning like they used to ain’t gonna be easy fun.

Here’s humanity beating it to starboard
If they had behaved themselves, possibly
God almighty wouldn’t have batted an eye
Zealous lots in exile on that ****** city-boat

They built up walls ‘gainst their bitter heartbreaks
Alleys, their homes and even small gardens
On a boat! Oh my, isn’t that tub gonna sink?
The wind-facing prow is a freakin’ chimera!

Such a craft is like a merry-go-round
You feelin’ sea-sick ? Looks like a hiccup!
It’s not rocket science, maybe a bit pitchin’
Here’s these talented convicts’ last resort!

Translated from the original version in French, July 19, 2018, Oullins. Appoline

Slang was originally written in French. I'll post the latter here for y'all: La compagnie des mat’lots ivres

V’la qu’l’humanité est flanquée sur ce rafiot
J’te dis pas l’ ramdam dans la cave des mat’lots
Ils errent sur le pont, à la barre c’est galère
Comment n’pas faire chavirer ce monde hors-terre ?

Ils en ont ramassé, des sacrés culs d’bouteilles
Chassés, amarres larguées, ils survivent au schisme
Ils errent sur la grand’ bleue entre deux pauvres isthmes
Pour retrouver l’sourire, c’est pas demain la veille.

V’la l’humanité qui fout l’camp à tribord
S’ils s’étaient comportés mieux, comme ça, de prime abord
L’bon Dieu là-haut, n’aurait pas remué l’moindre cil
Forcenés en exil sur un satané bateau-ville !

Ils ont construit des murs contre leurs chagrins amers
Des ruelles, leurs maisons menues et même des jardinets !
Sur un bateau, ma foi ! Ne va-t-il pas couler ?
La proue arbore, face au vent, une figure de chimère !

Cette embarcation-là, c’est comme un tourniquet
T’as pas le pied marin, t’aurais pas le hoquet ?
C’est pas la mer à boire, ça tangue juste un peu
V’la le dernier rempart d’ces bagnards talentueux.

Appoline, 18 Juillet 2018, Oullins

#sailors #boat #trip #slang