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Rhymes songs poems...

It is freezing

 

The frost surprised this morning

The first flower in my garden.

I told him: This is not good!

So to be forgiven,

With white sequins, she embroidered

All the herbs from my orchard.

The exquisite hour

 

the white moon

 

the white moon

Shines in the woods;

From every branch

Leave a voice

Under the stalk...

 

O beloved.

 

The pond reflects,

deep mirror

Silhouette

black willow,

where the wind cries...

 

Let's dream: it's time.

 

A broad and tender

appeasement

seems to go down

From the firmament

Let the star iridescent...

 

It is the exquisite hour.

 

Paul Verlaine

It is freezing

 

The frost surprised this morning

The first flower in my garden.

I told him: This is not good!

So to be forgiven,

With white sequins, she embroidered

All the herbs from my orchard.

Nouveau ! oct2024

I write

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_     (to the magpie)

I was writing

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (to the jay)

I wrote

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (at curlew)

I wrote

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (to plover)

I will write

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_       (at the wren)

Write!

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (in piggy bank)

What I write

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (at the thrush)

That I write

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_       (at the ibis)

writing

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (to the bunting)

Writing

          _cc781905-5cde-3194 -bb3b-136bad5cf58d_      (au pipit)

 

Luc Berimont

the spirit of childhood

round of the months

Januarywas born
The happy new year.
Februarysale
Our fire sings.
Marchhere is
Who cries and laughs.
Aprilis here
In chocolate.
Maypretty may
Everything promises us.
What comesJune
Hay fever.
Julyburning
On my barge.
Nice month ofaugust
Fruit everywhere.
Septemberadvance
No more holidays.
Octoberwet
The leaf rusts.
Novembercome
What a filthy weather.
Decemberrings
the night shivers.
It's midnight
The year flies away.

The four elements

 

The air is refreshing

The fire is devouring

The earth is turning

water – it's all different

 

The air is always wind

The fire is always moving

The earth is still alive

Water – it's all different

 

The air is always changing

Fire is always eating

The earth is always germinating

Water – it's all different

 

 

 

 

C.Roy

a single poem

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