"frans" poems
A composer frans liszt
Came home from the inn quite piszt
That night he’d sung
On the top of his lungs
And pounded drums with his fistz
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
Weep Oceana weep, my sweetest dear
What a homebody you've been to me, darling Oceana
Now don't curdle my head and heart, but oh the distance
I weep for the distance
Each cradled memory - beaten with palm frans with invisible hands holding me
Meddling with time Oceana. Oh it's been time! My ocean current bringing me down, but I promise, so deeply to the marrow - there is no other one, to this day
Oh dear, my sails must go up you see.
My hands are wrinkling with time, sparingly - so I only hold your fainted lights in my locket to the unfolding oblivion
The wind on my neck, Countless stars guiding me north - a new destiny.
But in every written desire, I will always look south, back to you - my only Oceana
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
Via leven, ene van de velen,
monden, stemmen, kelen
door elkaar te weven
in een wirwar boel Berlijn
en wenen, dankzij diegenen
die nog altijd zijn,
nog altijd lachen, stralen
daar blijf ik het geven halen.
Da's waardoor en om
ik 's ochtends uit mijn bedje kom,
gedreven, mijn pantoffels kus
met jus d'orange en bonjour zeg,
goedemorgen in het Frans.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
Aw crap, I mean fins.
No wait, fence.
Fences!
Do you wanna be fronds?
You know, you and me.
Just a couple palm fronds,
floating down the pond.
Wait, that's not right.
Ponds don't have currents.
No, see the problem is I don't currently have any frans.
I don't even know a Fran!
Do you?
Not even a Francis?
Ha, we have so much in common.
Let's be Frances!
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC