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Zipper Mar 9
Zip up your
c
o
a
t
little girl.
It's cold outside
The bitter wind will tear
you to  s  h   r   e      d           s
Isaac Dec 2020
I am amorphous like water
Bond to whatever environment I am in
Mutable and lovely like your daughter
with the faintest tint of red in my hair and cheeks
Who am I?
simply a chameleon coat changing colors to match the vibe
Who am I?
A polished diamond to reflect back all the lies
Every pair of eyes, I reflect back on their biggest insecurities
Blame me for being a mirrorball, wish I could be a fly on the wall.
It is scary how daring I have become
It is scary how I am scared of no one
Not even the flames of my mother's rage can melt my icy disposition
Not even the endless cycle of nights and days can fray my imagination
Who am I?
Simply a passing moment entrenched in your brain
Who am I?
Just a chameleon coat
The true essence unknown
KHY Oct 2020
rain bends leafs to their depths
they ring out colour that fills the earths chest
a coat of white on a heap of life
unto death
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Le temps a laissé son manteau ("The season has cast its coat aside")
by Charles d'Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

The season has cast its coat aside
of wind and cold and rain,
to dress in embroidered light again:
bright sunlight, fit for a bride!

There isn't a bird or beast astride
that fails to sing this sweet refrain:
"The season has cast its coat aside!"

Now rivers, fountains, springs and tides
dressed in their summer best
with silver beads impressed
in a fine display now glide:
the season has cast its coat aside!



The year lays down his mantle cold
by Charles d'Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

The year lays down his mantle cold
of wind, chill rain and bitter air,
and now goes clad in clothes of gold
of smiling suns and seasons fair,
while birds and beasts of wood and fold
now with each cry and song declare:
“The year lays down his mantle cold!”
All brooks, springs, rivers, seaward rolled,
now pleasant summer livery wear
with silver beads embroidered where
the world puts off its raiment old.
The year lays down his mantle cold.



Winter has cast his cloak away
by Charles d'Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

Winter has cast his cloak away
of wind and cold and chilling rain
to dress in embroidered light again:
the light of day—bright, festive, gay!
Each bird and beast, without delay,
in its own tongue, sings this refrain:
“Winter has cast his cloak away!”
Brooks, fountains, rivers, streams at play,
wear, with their summer livery,
bright beads of silver jewelry.
All the Earth has a new and fresh display:
Winter has cast his cloak away!

Note: This rondeau was set to music by Debussy in his “Trois chansons de France.”



The original French rondeau:

Le temps a laissé son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluie,
Et s’est vêtu de broderie,
De soleil luisant, clair et beau.

Il n’y a bête, ni oiseau
Qu’en son jargon ne chante ou crie :
"Le temps a laissé son manteau."

Rivière, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent en livrée jolie,
Gouttes d’argent d’orfèvrerie,
Chacun s’habille de nouveau :
Le temps a laissé son manteau.



Charles d’Orleans (1394-1465) was a French royal born into an aristocratic family: his grandfather was Charles V of France and his uncle was Charles VI. His father, Louis I, Duke of Orleans, was a patron of poets and artists. The poet Christine de Pizan dedicated poems to his mother, Valentina Visconti. He became the Duke of Orleans at age 13 after his father was murdered by John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. He was captured at age 21 in the battle of Agincourt and taken to England, where he remained a prisoner for the next quarter century. While imprisoned there he learned English and wrote poetry of a high order in his second language. A master of poetic forms, he wrote primarily ballades, chansons, complaints and rondeaux. He has been called the “father of French lyric poetry” and has also been credited with writing the first Valentine’s Day poem ...



My Very Gentle Valentine
by Charles d’Orleans (c. 1394-1465)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My very gentle Valentine,
Alas, for me you were born too soon,
As I was born too late for you!
May God forgive my jailer
Who has kept me from you this entire year.
I am sick without your love, my dear,
My very gentle Valentine.



Keywords/Tags: France, French, translation, Charles, Orleans, Duke, first Valentine, rondeau, chanson, rondel, roundel, ballade, ballad, lyric, Middle English, Medieval English, rondeaus, rondeaux, rondels, roundels, ballades, ballads, chansons, royal, noble, prisoner, hostage, ransom, season, seasons, winter, cold, snow, rain, summer, light, clothes, embroidered, embroidery, birds, beasts, sing, singing, song, refrain, rivers, springs, brooks, fountains, silver, beads
Liz Jan 2020
He was the aura of autumn
With a beard of falling leaves
He was guarded from the cold
With his long orange sleeves

He was the aura of autumn
With a brisk walk into battle
He was alone in the cafe
I heard the doorbell rattle

He was the aura of autumn
With a hand on his case,
Coffee in the other
And fogged glasses on his face.
11/7/19
Anastasia Nov 2019
Lucy was a girl
With a bright red coat
Dark obsidian curls
You should note
Laughter like bubbles
Floating in the air
Innocent
And unaware
Her kindness sweet
She was never alone
She had the sweetest dreams
Where she and Lucifer would meet
He would whisper in her ear
And welcomed her to his land of heat
But sweet young Lucy
Didn't know
Her left from right from wrong
Sweet young Lucy
Didn't know the Devil's song
So our sweet young Lucy
When her coat was spattered with red
Didn't know when it happened
That her parents were dead
She bubbled with joy
And giggled so sweet
When Lucifer said her name
"Someday you will be my queen," He said
"After you play the Orphan's Game."
"I will see that if you win
You will be the ruler of sin."
So Lucy laughed and said of course
"Sweet dreams!"
She said,
To her parents while they bled
Now clueless Lucy played his game
And lied the homeless to sleep
To the blind man, she said
"It's safe to cross the street."
Feeding starving cats
Poison made for rats
Shattered glass
In the elderly’s food
Helping in the nursing home
Going straight down
Not even chewed
Puppies in wells
Where darkness dwells
Blooms in the water
Scarlet red
Bits and pieces floating up
The sweetest bit is the head
The joyous sound
Of high pitched screams
An infant lost
Purposely
Watch their mouths
Cut off their tongue
Jump from the top
The highest rung
Anyone will listen to
That sweet soft voice
Just a few words
Then they’re her toys
“Please, sir,”
She said
“Do this for me”
Immune to any sense of dread
She played his game
And told his lies
And the game had been won
But even then
When she was done
The chaos had
Just begun
She didn't know
What she had wrought
And pain and lashings
The devil man brought
But not to his queen
For she was his Lady in Red
Sweet young Lucy
Would never be dead
Lucy played
His Orphan's Game
Eventually sweet young Lucy
Soon grew up
And Lucy one day
Fell in love
Of course, it was Satan's luck
The Lady in Red with the softest touch
It was a gory romance
The Queen of Sin
Let the devil man's
Emotions in
And since dear Lucy
Was all grown up
She gave in
To Lucifer's lust
And when I say
That blood was shed
Trust me
And Lucy's sweetness
Was not dead
Some call her darling
Or his Queen of Sin
Some call her Lucy
Or God, even
God was a woman
With a blood-stained coat
The devil man's wife
Swimming in her blood moat
Where the bodies of her parents
Would slowly float
And sometimes scratched
The bottom of the boat
Lucy has won
The Orphan's Game
Lucy had played
without shame
Lucy had let
The devil in
And she became
The Queen of Sin
He spoke to her
Voice sweet and soft
“You are my queen,”
A rotting stench his breath would waft
Hard polished lips
On a baby soft cheek
A twisted smile
A giggle at a shriek
“Oh, Lucifer,”
She would say
Dancing to the screams
She would sway
She’d sing him pretty songs
Tales of gore she would spin
Everyone in his land of flames
Would bow down to the Queen of Sin
I changed it up a bit and added about a page more here and there for an assignment :)
Man behind the coat
Breaking through the rain and killing the cold
Crossing the sea of tears riding a boat
The whole story's still untold
Nigdaw Jul 2019
The cow wore this skin better than I,
A little baggy round the udder, maybe
But with a tail to keep off the flies.

I paid three hundred quid for a jacket;

With a smell that really attracts flies,
A little baggy round the shoulders, definitely
The cow wore this skin better than I.
Anastasia Jul 2019
Lucy was a girl
With a bright red coat
Her kindness sweet
She was never alone
But sweet young Lucy
Didn't know
Her left from right from wrong
Sweet young Lucy
Didn't know the Devil's song
So our sweet young Lucy
When her cost was spattered with red
Didn't know when it happened
That her parents were dead
She bubbled with joy
And giggled so sweet
When Lucifer said her name
"Some day you will be my queen," He said
"After you play the Orphan's Game."
"I will see that if you win
You will be the ruler of sin."
So Lucy laughed and said of course
"Sweet dreams!"
She said,
To her parents while they bled
Now clueless Lucy played his game
And lied the homeless to sleep
To the blind man, the she said
"It's safe to cross the street."
She played his game
And told his lies
And the game had been won
But even then
When she was done
The chaos had
Just begun
She didn't know
What she had wrought
And pain and lashings
The devil man brought
But not to his queen
For she was his Lady in Red
Sweet young Lucy
Would never be dead
Lucy played
His Orphan's Game
Eventually sweet young Lucy
Soon grew up
And Lucy one day
Fell in love
Of course it was Satan's luck
The Lady in Red with the softest touch
It was a gory romance
The Queen of Sin
Let the devil man's
Emotions in
And since dear Lucy
Was all grown up
She gave in
To Lucifer's lust
And when I say
That blood was shed
Trust me
And Lucy's sweetness
Was not dead
Some call her darling
Or his Queen of Sin
Some call her Lucy
Or God, even
God was a woman
With a blood-stained coat
The devil man's wife
Swimming in her blood moat
Where the bodies of her parents
Would slowly float
And sometimes scratched
The bottom of the boat
Lucy has won
The Orphan's Game
Lucy had played
without shame
Lucy had had let
The devil in
And she became
The Queen of Sin
Just a story ❤
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