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Si vous n'avez rien à me dire,
Pourquoi venir auprès de moi ?
Pourquoi me faire ce sourire
Qui tournerait la tête au roi ?
Si vous n'avez rien à me dire,
Pourquoi venir auprès de moi ?

Si vous n'avez rien à m'apprendre,
Pourquoi me pressez-vous la main ?
Sur le rêve angélique et tendre,
Auquel vous songez en chemin,
Si vous n'avez rien à m'apprendre,
Pourquoi me pressez-vous la main ?

Si vous voulez que je m'en aille,
Pourquoi passez-vous par ici ?
Lorsque je vous vois, je tressaille :
C'est ma joie et mon souci.
Si vous voulez que je m'en aille,
Pourquoi passez-vous par ici ?

Mai 18...
Bella Isaacs Mar 7
That which feeds, it also starves
By its memory. Life doesn’t do halves.
And life does halves, but people never do.
Tell me it’s false, or tell me it’s true,
I’ll believe both, but nothing in between
One would **** her too, they who say they love the queen
Just so, my love, you are both my hatred and my dearest
But passion – it picks the nearest
Extreme, extreme to the point of screaming
Dissembling, duplicitous, and seeming
But I will call it one or the other
God or vermin, foe or brother
You are all one and the same
And there is no distinction and no shame
From swinging – flame
The flame is the same
Always, we hate and love with one
We fixate on one
And fixation is both
Care and wrath
Emptiness consumes
And so assumes
Plenty, and excess is a vacuum
And I may surfeit of nothing and everything
No, I do not presume
I KNOW (nothing) and can(not) describe everything
So dear, when you call me “pain” and answer me not
I shall not assume I am forgot
Because in the very act of trying, or doing
Away with the memory of me, my memory still persists
And my absence insists
On my presence, and I am still your making, and undoing.
Bella Isaacs Mar 7
Dully, the dewy eyes make their way towards a bed
And not, before something should be said:
The cure seems to be tomorrow.
The panacea for all death, lethargy and sorrow
Is tomorrow, which washes over us
A wave, the new day, fresh salt and water
And anything sad and onerous
Goes away, or at least can be approached by the daughter
Of today’s dying mother cell, and all hope lies
In the next day, because if not now, then mañana, demain, zavtra
Therein lies the happy ever after, after
After today, as the loom of life keeps on weaving
And the thread of life keeps on beading
And the sighs of life keep on leaving
And the tides of life keep on receding
And washing in again upon the shore
Washing my beached body evermore
Until I choose to stand up as I may
Stand, rise, up and seize the day –

By Jove, how am I so bare, so salted, so lost?
“Day one, or one day, you decide”
Oh prefect of 2017, where am I to hide
From your words? Where am I to hide from a host
Of other words, phrases, calling me out on “laissez-faire”?
The tide will wash over and over
The tide will erode the cliffs of Dover
The tide will erode me with time and lack of care
Because the rhythm cares not,
Though it bares us on
The music won’t stop,
As we dance as one
The machine keeps grinding
The barons keep minding
The hurdy-gurdy keeps winding
And Time keeps binding
And the poet keeps writing
And keeps writing, and biting
Her nib
And her lip
And thinking this sounded better in my mind
Than put down to pages unlined, undefined
Nothing can be defined, only compared
There is no pen that can know,
No knowledge that may be shared
Only pondering
Wondering
Musing, when the muse gives
When one feels one lives
When one feels, one lives
When one reels, one gives
When the world keeps reeling
And I keep feeling
And this page is keeling
And your eyes are peeling
But I did not come to write horror –
I wanted to give hope for tomorrow,
Which will surely come, but, audi vocem meam
Te imploro: *** venit, carpe diem.
Bella Isaacs Nov 2020
Cast me gently, let me sink.
Put me into the person of a smooth grey pebble
Carry me to the shallows, and gently drop me in
That I may fall, disappear, and forget for a bit, the whining treble,
The troubling bass, the choir of cacophonies, a migraine
Appearing around my temples and at my back;
That I may forget, I lack, I lack, I lack, alack.
May the waters churn and lap upon the surface,
I lie, I curl, I sleep, I exist, quiet, in topaz;
My simplicity is a privilege: I don’t need to imagine I’m a gem,
Even if I am. Water covers me, and you aren’t to call them,
Pick me up and dry me until the sea turns garnet the second time.
Let me drown in peace, out trouble; let me remember I’m
Better than waves of doubt would have me think.
  Aug 2020 Bella Isaacs
Anais Vionet
Please care.
Love's slants and spins have me dizzy.
Thy laughter's the star I navigate to
Thy voice a song I listen for
Thy touch I long for

Please care.
I make heated love's impious oaths.
Thy sigh is my pleasure as well
Thy smile is worth gold
Thy look my is my sun
a small, free verse, love poem
  Aug 2020 Bella Isaacs
Bee
he looked at her with those eyes
drooping under the weight of
the pain of the past
and the fear of the future

she knew that look
he battled his rock
never learned to push it
happily

she took his hand
dropped soft kisses on his knuckles
so he may remember softness
when he’s punching walls

“sometimes,” she whispered
“you run so fast you forget
to see the paths
that could’ve been”

“you are what you’ve allowed yourself
to be, lovely
so look down my path
and you may finally find what you seek”
Bella Isaacs Aug 2020
My soul was steeped in guilt
Ink was over my conscience, spilt
Obscured, I felt my way through life
Treading carefully on the knife
Edge I used sometimes to cut my dignity
In pain and shame and in indignity
I’d become addicted to more pain
When life dealt it to me again
When I dealt it to me again
I became blind, I saw no gain
I wished for death, I wished for light
I wished that walking through the night
I might be swallowed into the ghost realm
Where once I stood with my pen at the helm
Rewriting, writing, making history
I still think it is a mystery
In some senses, that I pulled through and made it out alive
Only to survive
With guilt, and my parents now holding me
From falling deeper into the emotional self-harming sea.
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