#hugo - Hello Poetry

Lésia ! J'expire à Guernesey Des mots crapauds* privés de sens Chantant aux mules* amusées De jolis souvenirs d'en France Quand ton sein cloué sur mon cœur Poussait la marée salicole, Aux pages de mon livre d'heures. Là-bas la mémoire est frivole Pour qui te cherche comme un fou Et guère ne sais si tu fus mienne Dans l'ombre tendre de Julienne. Le sable coule à marée basse Aux heures blanches de nos jeux Mes doigts démaquillant ses yeux Lorsque les souvenirs s'effacent Quand la maison s'est endormie Que la tendresse m'envahit Et que j'implore que le temps cesse Et que j'implore que le temps cesse.

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Feb 16, 2025

Feb 16, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC

laurent-chaineux-schenmetzler

Lésia

Lésia ! J'expire à Guernesey Des mots crapauds* privés de sens Chantant aux mules* amusées De jolis souvenirs d'en France Quand ton sein cloué sur mon cœur Poussait la marée salicole, Aux pages de mon livre d'heures. Là-bas la mémoire est frivole Pour qui te cherche comme un fou Et guère ne sais si tu fus mienne Dans l'ombre tendre de Julienne. Le sable coule à marée basse Aux heures blanches de nos jeux Mes doigts démaquillant ses yeux Lorsque les souvenirs s'effacent Quand la maison s'est endormie Que la tendresse m'envahit Et que j'implore que le temps cesse Et que j'implore que le temps cesse.

19

I lay here watching Which layers are spinning... And what direction? My mind dissects the clouds Like a fog being burned by sunlight... During the late morning. This pattern above me Rather pleasing... yet confusing... I'm on the right, I find it yielding left... There's designs I can't name Animals I can make... Yet they all run away as I move And the clouds spin trails... Watching them evolve Like a lifelong time lapse. The drawn up moisture.... The streams of steam condensed... Swirled and forged into cotton-like pillows of uncertainty. The colors are the Indicators of moods The light and mysterious White and normal Green and envious of the oncoming destruction Black and gray depicting ends of sunshine filled days... The life underneath grows, quivers, and in series of decays... Some offer condensed clouds as flavored swirls in mugs... But I rather watch the ones that love Carrying wind and rain... Have swirls of their own and a Name. Though subject of objections The will of nature has a forge... To churn this stream of water around Like spun sugars of cotton candy. Much like a carnival, life is a surprise An unyielding wild ride. Directions are unclear If i will be here I have watched the life of The swirl in this giant mug Smack the coastlines with giant hugs... Some rough love... Though oddity Have you seen what clouds can do When spun around oak trees?

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Jul 18, 2018

Jul 18, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC

aprilhapnerabbott

Hurricanes

I lay here watching Which layers are spinning... And what direction? My mind dissects the clouds Like a fog being burned by sunlight... During the late morning. This pattern above me Rather pleasing... yet confusing... I'm on the right, I find it yielding left... There's designs I can't name Animals I can make... Yet they all run away as I move And the clouds spin trails... Watching them evolve Like a lifelong time lapse. The drawn up moisture.... The streams of steam condensed... Swirled and forged into cotton-like pillows of uncertainty. The colors are the Indicators of moods The light and mysterious White and normal Green and envious of the oncoming destruction Black and gray depicting ends of sunshine filled days... The life underneath grows, quivers, and in series of decays... Some offer condensed clouds as flavored swirls in mugs... But I rather watch the ones that love Carrying wind and rain... Have swirls of their own and a Name. Though subject of objections The will of nature has a forge... To churn this stream of water around Like spun sugars of cotton candy. Much like a carnival, life is a surprise An unyielding wild ride. Directions are unclear If i will be here I have watched the life of The swirl in this giant mug Smack the coastlines with giant hugs... Some rough love... Though oddity Have you seen what clouds can do When spun around oak trees?

44

They allure and bid us to Stay content in freezing cool August night and sleep beside The ones that kiss beneath the starry light They consent each promise to expire For no word shall bond a folk agile. For a pang in heart must drive Those willing to abide to loving right And on August Night A slumber army of blue lanterns will proclaim Them the citizens of realm of pristine men And thus in pitch Of darkness full of heavenly within The stars will swallow sin. (And kiss you on a chin)

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Aug 17, 2017

Aug 17, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC

kongrin

August Night

They allure and bid us to Stay content in freezing cool August night and sleep beside The ones that kiss beneath the starry light They consent each promise to expire For no word shall bond a folk agile. For a pang in heart must drive Those willing to abide to loving right And on August Night A slumber army of blue lanterns will proclaim Them the citizens of realm of pristine men And thus in pitch Of darkness full of heavenly within The stars will swallow sin. (And kiss you on a chin)

15

He sleeps. An enigma, his life bereft - He lived then died once his angel had left. It happened as simply as anything might, As from day there follows the coming of night.

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Jan 9, 2017

Jan 9, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC

evie-brill-paffard

Valjean's Epitaph

He sleeps. An enigma, his life bereft - He lived then died once his angel had left. It happened as simply as anything might, As from day there follows the coming of night.

4

It's a tale of revolution and dread Where most characters wind up dead Some end up insane Some end up in the Seine And all of this over some bread

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May 12, 2016

May 12, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC

evie-brill-paffard

Literary Limericks: Les Misérables

It's a tale of revolution and dread Where most characters wind up dead Some end up insane Some end up in the Seine And all of this over some bread

5

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends. J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne. Je ne puis demeurer **** de toi plus longtemps. Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées, Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit, Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées, Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit. Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe, Ni les voiles au **** descendant vers Harfleur, Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

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Sep 23, 2015

Sep 23, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC

evocatory

demain, dès l'aube

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends. J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne. Je ne puis demeurer **** de toi plus longtemps. Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées, Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit, Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées, Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit. Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe, Ni les voiles au **** descendant vers Harfleur, Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

12

Dear Ernesto Hugo de Castro, Keep breathing and keep thinking, we'll **remember that somewhere, along the lines, you were there**, since you have something to gain. I like reading your poems and poetry, I also like that you express yourself clearly, I also like that you know how life does hurts and I like your ruthful and inspiring works. I love knowing your writing and trueness, I also love how reaching perfection you do, and, last but not least, I also love you. - Ludapoetry

0

Dec 13, 2014

Dec 13, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC

ludapoetry

Dear Ernesto Hugo de Castro

Dear Ernesto Hugo de Castro, Keep breathing and keep thinking, we'll **remember that somewhere, along the lines, you were there**, since you have something to gain. I like reading your poems and poetry, I also like that you express yourself clearly, I also like that you know how life does hurts and I like your ruthful and inspiring works. I love knowing your writing and trueness, I also love how reaching perfection you do, and, last but not least, I also love you. - Ludapoetry

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