#chants
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.
Les feuilles sont sèches et passives
Et les fleurs mortes et inactives
Plus **** c’est la neige
Les voisins de l’auberge
Voient passer les cerfs
Toute la sainte journée
Et pendant toute la soirée
On sent changer les nerfs
Pour accueillir la nouvelle saison
Où l’on est **** de la moisson.
On peut entendre de très ****
Le vent qui fredonne dans les foins
Les vibrations ne sont pas monotones
Puisque les colibris des mornes
Font sentir leur présence spectaculaire
Et les poètes aux jardins imaginaires
Décrivent tout ce qui se passe
Dans la contrée où la masse
Demeure insensible et ignorante
Et où les élus corrompus se vantent.
Il fait du soleil
Il pleut, il tonne
C’est l’automne
Du réveil au sommeil.
P.S. Traduction de ‘ The Ancient Canticles Of Autumn’.
Copyright © Novembre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs livres de poésie.
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 10:44 PM UTC
#*
A devout spiritual
Birth and death
A mere passing
To closely watch this beautiful world
Temporary the presence
Learnings and memories
For the soul
Depth of this life
Felt
The fragrance of ancient soil
The mountains rock solid
And the journey of the slope
Under the luminous sky
Yet, a belief in the higher power
The divine, supreme being
Ever so deeply rooted
Beyond the cycle of life and death
Lord Shiva
To draw strength and endurance
Some wisdom
To walk the path of truth
Not through rituals
But being closely guided by the divine
In deep reverence
Chanting
Ten thousand times
Om Namah Shivay
Uprooting the fears
Gently placing faith
In place
Belief in self
In the power of the divine*
🔆🌿🌿🔆
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 7:18 AM UTC
Bielsa’s Boys go bombing on.
Hear it, hear it,
Hear our song.
Running further than the rest,
Leeds United are the best.
Scything through the opposition,
Scoring goals our only mission.
Top flight teams are running scared,
Afraid of a team that’s uncompared:
Players drilled on “Murderball”,
Making them feel so very tall.
We’ve even a Brazilian in our team.
Bielsa buys only the cream.
Brazil themselves are doing great deeds:
They say they’re playing just like Leeds.
Shame about those missing fans,
Still busy washing their hands.
Can’t wait for that Elland Road roar
Celebrating every score.
Before too long we’ll be World Champs,
Shining bright like electric lamps.
Bamford scoring all those goals,
Shutting the mouths of Keane and Scholes.
Bielsa’s Boys go bombing on.
Hear it, hear it,
Hear our song.
Paul Butters
© PB 1\1\2021.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 7:36 AM UTC
As a typer of what might be
Poetry
I am a football manager
With WORDS as my players.
Words in a Deep W Formation –
Total free verse
Hopefully forming a diamond.
No buses parked here
As my words go winging
Down the page.
Not quite five three two
But maybe the odd Haiku
In syllables of five seven five –
For there are far more than eleven syllables
In Poetry.
All writers are the same:
Our words combining
To make meaning,
Passing our visions
Views and feelings
For a crowd of readers
All being well.
Words to be chanted
By crowds enchanted –
Songs for a stadium
That is our united mind.
Paul Butters
© PB 16\8\2020.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 5:42 AM UTC
I
Their voice rapped the portals
and from the dim smoke
a white pigeon sprung
and followed the trail downwards
The crests of the churches,
sharp shelters for the wounded
that come from above
and from below
Are the firmaments raining fire?
For my eyes have filled with tears of black
and my soul's purified
Is this your delivering message?
For lakes, mountains,
beasts and humans are waiting,
and we shall always do
II
Will the Theatre of Pain
be utterly empty one day?
We are actors that do not dare
to read the elder lines
Nomads amidst the sandstorm
in our sinful minds
Shall I drink my animal's blood?
For my people's thirsty for salvation
in this deserted land
and I only saw once a roaming scrap
from your royal garments
Faith is hanging from a thread
And only in the night-praying hours
the poetry's lines true shine
Do not be the actor
that turns his back
on the crowd's clapping
III
Everything is appointed
the prophets have spoken
Will, you always love
those who betray?
Spreading words of hope
to the humble with burned faces
The needy have already
flooded the empty rivers
and Pharaoh's wrath is not well locked
I know not how many
are living up there
but I do know how many
are building the realm of Hades
The flame shall kneel before you
and oceans will be divided into two
Once the ominous words
are heard inside your Temple again
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 10:48 AM UTC
by the window,
gazing on the crescent moon,
cold breezes tear through the room,
the night sky,
glistening monochrome picture,
the beauty reminds me of you,
goose bumps graze the skin,
reality fades away,
and,
involuntarily end up on your world,
The first letter i wrote you,
lays on my hand,
i spilt my heart out for you,
asked to take you out too,
wind blows pieces of paper,
and there lies the fourth letter,
i wrote, it's a poem
scripted script less,
written from the edges of my thought's,
as words coined at will,
i think you would've liked it,
the ending, a cretan,
sends me to the second letter,
a rhyme, declaring
my love for you,
a lovely one,
but the brightest thought's,
bloom the darkest,
and then reality keeps up,
it haunt's you know,
knowing my heart harbors affection,
for you,but silence rule's my mouth,
knowing my brittle heart,
would easily fall for her charm's,
letters didn't see the mail man,
i once dropped it at your doorstep,
wore a cape to get the courage,
to knock,and i did,
but instead i woke up.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:58 AM UTC
Primordial chants
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
meditating in the soul of the black onyx beads.
Frozen drops of bliss nestling in the sinews,
soaking me in its sublime stillness,
leading me to its philharmonic depth,
yoking me to its cosmic vibes.
I sublimate
to become the chants
that pulsate in the soul
of the black onyx beads...
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
#OCCUPY INTERSECTIONALITY!
OCCUPY SAFE SPACES!
OCCUPY ANTICHRIST!
SUBVERT OCCUPATION!
(Kiss your own ***
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
Ancient words spoke in syllables unknown
vortex about me in forms of growing smoke.
Ghosts of times passed swirl about,
their eyes locked to mine and mouths wide,
tethered to me as a center point.
Life must be chosen once per day
but the reaper must only make one deft move.
The smoke continues to rise and tighten,
the spirits muted howls fade in and out,
and I cough.
I choke and cough as the smoke fills my lungs,
desperately trying to expel but I fall.
There I lay, wheezing and hacking,
A rejection, a fight, a resistance,
longing for the clean air that I
did not believe until it was gone.
My throat burns dry and bruised,
but the smoke does not stop its growth
and the chants grow louder still,
filling my mind and shaking my skull.
The smoke fills my lungs to capacity and
I call out but it comes as another cough
and another after, again and once more,
my eyes watering and hands gripping chest,
until at last I gasp one rattling inhale
and Fade to black.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
I took the seat across and breathe deeply
Trying to ignite the will to last the night to make it easy
Folios with galloping notes reflected my eyes
Ascribing them as you started rippling nice
Taking your place behind those keys
while I guard the front as it seems
You fiddled the catguts, and I learned their secrets
And as you edify, I got lost in the sequence
You exuded the decree to keep my valiance
I lodged around the shadows keeping my silence
Risking the chance that was left of me
As I chant the cadence with complexity
I ogled before you with such esteem
As my mind creeps alone towards glaucous dream
Wishing that in every thing written in the sky,
You will always be my Marshall and I am your Spy
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
The speech of the great saints
From the mythical era unknown
Strangely echos in my brain
To my ears it seems known
The sound of their chants vibrate
Tickling my soul within its realm
My spirit tries to reciprocate
But my heart rejects its claim
The chakras in my body tends to communicate
Of why I hear such humming voice
The gates to my soul opens and awaits
Yet my heart is puzzled to make a choice
I'll just let it be, till the voices become clearer
It's soothing, the way the humming hymns flow
Echos from far and past swings nearer
My brain and soul consumes it slow...
©sim
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
Yell your head off
And shout, shout, shout.
Get in amongst them
And put it about.
We’re awake now, hear us cry!
Full of energy,
Watch us fly.
Out of our slumbers,
On the up.
Highly charged,
We’ll win The Cup.
We’re all full of motivation,
Hear our incantation.
Forward we go, bursting with pride.
Come with us, enjoy the ride.
We’re the greatest, we all know.
Ever ready to fight the foe.
We are winners through and through,
Even better than Doctor Who.
We will put the world to rights.
You will see incredible sights.
All together we unite,
So stay with us and
The future’s bright.
Paul Butters
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
Give me a kiss; kiss me again; give me another kiss.
Give me a kiss; kiss me again; it’s utter oral bliss.
Give me a kiss; kiss me again; give me a kiss, and then,
Give me a kiss; kiss me again; then kiss me again and again.
Give me a kiss; kiss me again, since this is an absolute fact:
Give me a kiss, kiss me again, and I’ll be sure to act.
Give me a kiss; kiss me again; hear! hear this! and respond!
Give me a kiss; kiss me again, and crave my magic wand!
+
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
It's too loud.
Is it the chatter of unknowing strangers
Or the voices screaming in my head?
The music doesn't drown them out.
They're getting louder, singing with the music
Turning lyrics into phantom chants
Their summons echoes through the chasm
I can feel the shattering.
Feel the madness breaking in.
I need to run.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC