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4 mars 2009 3 04 /03 /mars /2009 11:03


Who is this bird which transports its dreams
To the melted infinite of knotty feelings
Flying to the shamelessness of fragrances and fevers
From naked body full of scars on fire

Who is this bird with this so proud look
That we forget the pains which corrode him inside
The tears which run out in lethal waves
Reveal the weakness of the pedant poet

The words which he uses are precise blades
Cutting in the ache large chips of joy
Strident feelings and undecided fears
Incandescent fierce attacks of shimming colors

Who is this animal which hides in the man
Howling of pleasure in famished belly
Sullying with desire this indecent alms
With the concupiscent Gods without being alarmed

Who is this bird with this majestic flight
His eyes are so piercing that it bursts the hearts
Vibrating with divine wind, a little bit impetuous
Subjected without remission to the law of your charms

Who is he, what does he want, what is his name
From where does he come, what does he make, has he congener ones
Is this strange bird only virtual
Or is he only a breath which makes despair

The song which penetrates and infiltrates us suavely
In echo rebounds in a true clamor
Beyond the borders and covers us with lava
Subsided by the hand which preserves your heart



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MARILOU 05/03/2009 13:22

Weakness, fear inside the heartBut magestic flight and so proud look.....Je suis face à mon miroir...

busard 05/03/2009 13:54

Flap ... thanks Marilou ... many thanks for your comments ... my highest regards !

... et que voyez-vous ?