4.5 Anthology

                         cascade.jpg saintgraal lesdamns3.jpg

My venus

If I was a poet,

You would be my Cassandre.

If I was a singer,

You would be my Marinella.

If I was a sculptor,

You would be my Pieta.

If I was a painter,

You would be my Mona Lisa.

If I was Romeo,

You would be my Juliette.

But God made me sun,

So that you  are my Venus.

If you were river,

I would be your bed.

If you were flower,

I would be your sepal.

If you were dove,

I would be your nest.

If you were siren,

I would be your ocean.

But God made you Venus,

So that I am your sun.

.

The Valentine’s day

Such a divine miracle

The fog opened a road before me.

Love,

Which leads to your Holy Grail

That my soul chases

On a winged horse.

Every dream,

As a mystic stage,

Invites myself

To go on my way,

And pushes me,

Deeper and deeper,

In this quest of Venus,

Your sacred heart.

Finally,

After a long passionate running,

On this Valentine’s day,

I discover the treasure.

The lovely star,

Inlaid at the entrance

Of our new life.

You just have to open your heart

To welcome me

In this happy paradise.

.

Bing bang love

Such an anchorite comet,

Since an eternity,

Lonely heart,

I had wandered,

In a universe,

Dark and icy.

Random trajectory,

Aimlessly,

I roamed,

Towards nowhere.

 Then suddenly

A magical flicker,

A spiritual hymn,

A mystic heat,

A disturbing flavor,

Seized my soul.

From  my galactic grave,

I woke up.

In  her magnetic field,

By a loving attraction,

A star caught my heart.

.

The lost paradise

On the sleepy island

The night settled down.

A strident melody rises then,
A concert of bugs.

While on the celestial stage,

It is the curtain raiser.

A divine night-ballet

Is offered to the eye.

Stars dance in the sound of the “ka”.

The full moon,

Overflows its excess full of light.

Fine dusts of silver spread on earth.

In front of so much beauty,

The wind is short of breath.

Trees  do not move any more.

On the beaches,

The angry silver waves calm down.

Two empty stomachs which shout

My God, what horrible noise!

Do they think, with tears,

To suppress such a noise?

Soft morning breeze!

You, which return from a great distance,

Have you ever seen, on Earth,

A such poverty?

You, mysterious passer-by,

Go, in your melodious voice,

Tell what you see

To a generous King.

.

Lovely Dominica

Tell me lovely Dominica, what is your secret?

Your Eden’s body did not catch one wrinkle.

Your tree of life did not become fruitless.

Your virgin forest did not lose its virtue.

Your genesis’s color did not leak its sacred chlorophyll.

Your eternal freshness did not know the old age.

Tell me lovely Dominica, what is your secret?

Here is, all those who crossed your road, fell under your spell.

The Amerindian has survived for you.

The European, in search of adventure, engaged duels to deserve you.

The African, extracted from his ground, took root inside you.

As a Creole mum, your bosoms filled with life nourish all your children

Tell me lovely Dominica, what is your secret?

From dawn to twilight, the sun fixes at you its gaze burning with desire.

The Trade Wind, such a gentleman, airs you tirelessly.

The roaming clouds would so much like to stop over your roof.

The Atlantic Ocean and the caribbean sea are assiduous in one’s attention to you.

As soon as the sun falls asleep, stars gather over your nest.

Tell me lovely Dominica, what is your secret?

Universal distress

A long lasting moaning,

Coming from a place of the world,

Ended up in the kingdom of heavens,

Taken there, by some spiritual wave.

The complaint, identified,

Came from Earth.

Sent on the scene

A God’s messenger investigated.

Coming back from “Hades”,

Here is, he told:

Grand Master,

Every day,

From dawn to twilight,

Men and women

Live and die,

At the rate of the whip.

Some, self-elected, “masters”,

To justify their crime,

Evoke races

And place on the top

The only white race.

The Universal Master

Shouted at Earth:

Last-born,

Where were you

When life germinated

In that little piece of universe,

According to my will?

Short-live creature,

Say to me, then,

What do you know about races,

To connect their fate

In a classes’ law?

Infuriated, he added:

Woe betide Man

Who exploits his brother

To satisfy his selfishness,

Compromising Earth.

After a pause,

An eternity for Man,

He ended:

Neither black, nor white,

Only, men and women.

Neither male, nor female,

Only Life.

.

The wretched of the earth

By a moonless night,

Earth welcomed me.

Since,

Ended up in the kingdom of Hades,

I knew the sunless days.

Neither died, nor living,

I drag a body,

Stripped of its soul.

As a ghost,

I roam at night,

And I hide during the day.

I compete my daily ration

With the stray dogs,

To fill up my stomach

With the wastes of the living beings.

Sometime,

Through my thick night,

I see a dawn far off.,

A glimmer of hope,

Given out by some divine source,

I think.

In my nightmare,

I hear the appeal of God.

But I do not want to rise.

I only want to die.

 .

Repentance

Little by little,

I sank in the life’s pleasures,

At first, I soaked my mind.

At the end, I flooded my soul.

Child,

My food came from God

And I ate at the paradise.

Man,

In a funeral world,

I live among lawbreakers

And I supper with beggars.

This endless night,

Is like a purgatory,

Not yet hell,

But, so far to my heaven.

As formerly Job,

Buried alive

But saved from Hades,

I hope, one day,

From the bottom of my black hole

To get up

And find again my stars,

Gathered on the celestial material.

Maybe, I would recognize

The smiling face

Of my mother.

.

Creole hut

To escape from his pitiful life

After the sunset

The slave, without nest on earth

Created the Creole hut,

his sanctuary.

Carefully he dressed it

- Hat in Guinea’s grass

- Suit in islands’ wood,

- Big pebbles as shoes.

Certainly, it looked sad

Next to these proud white houses

But when life is very hard

No Sunday’s dress doesn’t matter.

As a Creole mom

It relieved the pain.

Admirable in its role,

It became “dear house”.

Often whipped by the wind,

continually beaten by the rain,

It crossed over time

And always livens up life.

It  still carries in itself

The heirs of the slavery

And those that a strong sea

Washed up on our shores.

 

Publié dans : ||le 7 mars, 2017 |Pas de Commentaires »

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