#pour
Musique pour Anaïs: Tut tut tut tut par Gillian Hills
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-sN21hNaeEA
Allez, tout le monde !
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tut Tut Tut Tut
Tut Tut Tut Tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Well, it’s been like this since ten this morning
Voilà c'est comme ça depuis dix heures ce matin
It’s not free, it’s not free
Ce n'est pas libre, ce n'est pas libre
I feel the anger making my hands shake
Je sens la colère qui me fait trembler les mains
It’s not free, it’s not free
Ce n'est pas libre, ce n'est pas libre
I’m losing my cool listening to that tune
Je perd mon sang froid en écoutant cet air-là
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
I’ve tried everything, but it’s the same every time
J'ai tout essayé, mais c'est pareil chaque fois
It’s not free, it’s not free
Ce n'est pas libre, ce n'est pas libre
I called from the little café downstairs
J'ai téléphoné du petit café en bas
It’s not free, it’s not free
Ce n'est pas libre, ce n'est pas libre
They’re mocking me every time I hear that song
Se moquant de moi chaque fois j'entends cet air-là
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Yet I could’ve sworn that boy loved me
Pourtant j'aurais juré que ce garçon m'aimait
After he kissed me, he said I’ll never forget you
Arès m'avoir embrassée il me disait jamais je ne t'oublierai
But the phone seems to whisper in my ear
Mais le téléphone semble me dire à l'oreille
He’s not free, he’s not free
Il n'est pas libre, il n'est pas libre
That heart he promised you, he gave it away yesterday
Ce cœur qu'il t'a promis, il l'avait donné la veille
He’s not free anymore, he’s not free anymore
Il n'est plus libre, il n'est plus libre
And you’ll think of it every time you hear
Et tu y penseras chaque fois que tu entendras
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
It’s not free, it’s not free
Ce n'est pas libre, ce n'est pas libre
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Tut tut tut tut tut tut tut
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 3:11 PM UTC
“Remember when we used to pour our own milk in Starbucks? I miss those days,” one patron wrote nostalgically on X earlier this month... Now in the process of getting reinstatement…
<>
oddity sujet for a poeme. and it begs with
hidden overtones even, for an overture, please,
even the babes&big babies among us with barely a decade to call their own,
long for the un~
complicated places, days, even the moments
momentous that will resonate evermore,
even the most favored nation of that stuffed
animal, that cannot be dismissed, discarded,
who will join them in their no loco parenting of a
snug single of a freshman doormroom,
with no shame, when the hungry boys are
permitted entry to the chamber, blushing from the hopefulness's of potency of
getting first lucky,
foolishly sarcastic remarking on
this sad sacred animal presence, and being subsequently serviley, quick dismissed,
with a stupid,wry twisty, puzzled squared landing on their mouth, where the just sensed
**passionate kisses will ow/now
never arrive**
yes, nostalgic
commences amidst the multiple in ~ puts
from early days, ever on,
sorted, filed, systematically,
in a system greater than the
dewey decimal of our libraries
and we experimented with
numerous pours of variable quantities
of
various “milks”
lesson taught when the station is unbusy,
and cute yong men offer helpful hints,
calorically, nutrient-wise, taste varietals,
and leaving a phone number
on the wax container of the
trialed oat milk
which is so a
thing
hard to miss, hard to lose
perhaps this instant of rapture rappore
will lead to a long life,
maybe till spring semester when
you,
a saturated years older
slightly more cautious,
*and yet^
after a hundred nyets,
in a San Fran Starbucks,
near the first job,
it happens, and memories are
rejiggered, restoring priorities
andy
don’t tell nobody
that stuffed animal
is resting comfortably
on her bedroom
in an apt.
Shared with two others,
To all entering, holy of holies,
as a prescreening no~tech
stuffed, well hugged
animal device will
assign a
pass/fail grade
Nov 16, 2024
Nov 16, 2024 at 7:25 AM UTC
Would it be wrong
to attempt painting the blank canvas
that's been sitting in my attic
for longer than I've had it?
To witness the sky paint itself
shades you've never seen;
blooming with thorns of yearning
as your gaze turns away?
Or to be drowned
by the soft reflection
of worldly glee,
as the moon begins to fall?
Oh, tell me --
Is it really wrong
to pour your heart out,
when you've never had anything
to pour at all?
Sep 26, 2024
Sep 26, 2024 at 2:08 PM UTC
You treat me like minefield
Challenging to navigate
Wrong step will cause me to explode
You take caution with your gait
Got pocketfuls of problems
Neither can seem to fix
Each door we try to open
Leads to wall of bricks
You keep telling me think positively
Optimism is the key to success
When the half-full glass topples over
Still makes the same size mess
Got a fence built between bodies
Separating flaws we don't wish to see
Compatability questionable
Cannot be who you want me to be
Your expectations of me skyscrapers
So high I will never reach the top
To scale distance I'd need to sprout wings
I won't fly because I'm scared of the drop
Good enough worry is not what I am
Painting your colors dark grey
Overhead clouds pour rain and we're drowning
Wouldn't blame you if you decided not to stay
Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 10:36 PM UTC
Prose and pour ...
let me pour sweetheart ...
the sweeten my lips wine ...
at your sweet lips ...
to get your honey ...
as i prose my words ...
with every morning ...
about your heart ...
and our love ...
just to pour ...
the sweetness ...
and the happiness ...
to your soul ...
to make you ..
fly ...
from morning ...
until night ...
to get you drunk ..
to my all words ...
sweet angel mine ...
it's our morning ...
it just start ...
with my whispers ...
from my lips ...
from the depth ...
of my heart ...
to steal your eyes ...
while you read my words ...
and then to sneak ...
with a deeply fondness ...
to your lips ...
there ...
where...
i pour ...
my all honey there ...
let me babe do ...
hazem al ...
Aug 2, 2021
Aug 2, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
You’re far too expensive to be pouring into people who could never drink
you in your fullness
Let me drink from your well as I replenish you with the fountain of all my goodness
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 10:45 AM UTC
for you, writing is loving
you always write for someone
you loved, love.
but do you ever just sit down,
pen in hand, cup of coffee on the side,
and just pour out your unsaid thoughts about
yourself?
for you, self-love is not selfish.
but honey, you've always been
so selfish for yourself.
how is it easy for you,
to write for someone when you can't even write
for yourself?
sincerely yours,
you.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 11:40 AM UTC
I want to
Pour
My heart out
So you can
Drink
Your fill
©FaerieFoxPoetry
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 3:03 AM UTC
Not just yesterday I met her
Since ages I'm trying to get hold of her
So cold, so heartless she seems to be
The evilest of all she sounds to me
I'm scared and wish never to meet her
And stay away in order to cheat her
But helpless I seem in all my efforts
When only I step towards my mirror.
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
as the rain poured upon my palms,
i’ve reached out just to feel your touch.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 7:58 AM UTC
During a travel in Shangri La , the floating love in sunrays and choirs of birds opened my eyes.
And I found myself lying on mat on terrace with a handsome smiling man reflecting in sun.
While rolling mat , an invisible breezy naughty kid played with my messy hair and tickled and whistled in my ears.
Seeing this , the aunt flowers smiled and swayed in euphoria.
Closing the kid behind my terrace's door just before my way to downstairs, I sighed in relief.
And the kid went very far and higher and higher...
Capturing this moment , I poured it down into my diary.
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 6:26 AM UTC
tu étais toi et j'étais moi
nous étions deux avant notre temps
J'étais à toi avant de savoir
et tu as toujours été à moi aussi
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
I think that
as a writer
my writing is my biggest strength
yet my biggest weakness
because if you lose yourself in these flurry of words
you will come to love me
but if you see past them
you will come to know me.
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
No matter how much water/steriliser you pour you can't wash away the feelings!
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 5:20 PM UTC
Who lied that the moon hung only in the sky?
I poured the moon in my teacup.
It was floating.
Mouthful moonlight.
Glorious celebration of an orchestra
from scattered crickets.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 6:31 PM UTC
Under the orange sunset
Our arms wrapped around pillows
Have you ever felt that
Comfort below weeping willows?
We are here, far from home,
So let me listen to your stories
From outside this sweltering dome.
Let me listen to your worries.
Don't you dare say sorry,
Don't say you're fine,
Don't be scared, don't hurry,
Your secrets are mine.
Here it is only us and the furniture,
Glowing with the golden sun.
For now, just forget the future
And focus on the now, the fun
from a long, long time ago,
In a faraway place perchance,
Remember how winds used to blow
Free. Your family, friends, romance...
Tell me more, till you are sore,
I am here, one with the air,
Listening as your teas pour
And comfort you, show that I care
for you…
Now there is no fear.
Just your sweet tea and tears
enslaved in the atmosphere...
You talk and talk, on and on...
Recursion. Infinite loop.
But what about me?
Would you do the same for my bitter, black tea?
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 7:53 PM UTC
I worry I'm not as good at loving as I'd like to think
you can't put band aids on broken bones
all my doses of resentment seem to pour out onto you
and I whisper that I don't need you
with tears in my eyes and white knuckles around your fingers
I do not know how to love what's in front of me
only the ghost of the past and the fantasies of my mind
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
Maybe I can’t stop
The downpour But
I will always join you
For a walk in the rain
Together we will flow
Through an ocean of
Ever-changing tides
Drenched
Tired
Stronger
Empowered
The sunrise
Will never look brighter
Then the day we become
One
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
When a housekeeper pours her heart into her work, making your home Clean and shining,
Say thank- you!
When a waitress greets you with a warm smile, and tries her best to Provide you a quality service,
Say thank- you!
When a mailman struggles to deliver your mail, fighting through Challenging weather,
Say thank-you!
Make others feel valued,
Express your gratitude,
Lighten their day with words of appreciation,
Embrace them with humanity, and treat them with kindness!
Hussein Dekmak
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC
Pour the coffee please
Coffee wakes up the senses
I need the black bean
Dry roasted and pressed
Ground to make the very best
Energizing beans
Brian Hill - 2019 # 196
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC
We have the privilege
to romanticise rain.
We talk about the cold breeze,
the soothing sounds
of falling droplets
and the feelings
that are evoked within us.
However, to some others,
rain simply means
a cold sleepless night.
Rain, to them
is like an uninvited guest,
who finds its way through
cracks and holes
and sits uncomfortably close.
A guest who leaves
only when they please.
To some others
rain is like an old friend
who's face they can no longer
remember.
They don't even remember
the last time they met
because it did not seem
like an incident
that was important enough
to commit to memory.
If only they had known
that it was the last time
in a long time...
And the ones who farm
to feed us all
pray for rain
that is just enough.
Not too less or too much.
And when it pours,
the elixir flows
to quench the thirst of doubts
'will there be yield?'
'will my children eat?'
A reassuring yes.
So, the next time
rain runs towards you
and drenches you
with an affectionate hug,
embrace it
and let it be no stranger.
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 5:23 AM UTC
in the rain
i walk with you
an orange stained sky
cloudy and dusty
with nothing but grey ahead of us
rain
soaks my clothes
my hair
my heart
yet
i'm warm
and covered
with the misty,
heavy
rain.
and you laugh
and stick out your tongue
and i do
and the sky does
and i walk home with you
in the rain.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
Rough patches are like the rain.
Once in awhile they pour down in sheets.
Other times they sprinkle themselves sporadically.
No matter how they arrive,
dark clouds always clear
and sunshine returns.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC