English Poetry

One step too far,
Or, one wrong step.
I don’t know what to do.
Dare?
Do?
Make a mistake?
The mistake of doing nothing?
One too many words?
To hear me say,
To stop on the way.
Whether this or his words,
Stay in my mouth;
In my mind.
Why say so,
At the risk of.
To hear me say,
I shouldn’t have done it.
Pass out
Do that this moment,
Remains ephemeral.
As if suspended.
I breathe,
I need some space,
The area of nothing,
I improvise.
And I get an idea,
Stop saying.
Conclude;
As to give an end,
To this interlude.

Hey!!!
Hello!
Yes, it is you...
The friend of van Gogh?
The mailman?
I had already seen your portrait.
Yes, that famous painting of Vincent...
Is it really you?
You know,
I did it again.
In my own way.
Yeah, I like that painting.
You’re wearing your hat.
Yes, yes,
Pretty portrait.
Certainly mine is simpler.
This is indeed what the gents say,
Usually, about my work.
Nothing to do with Brushes
Of the Master.
I mean, they’re flat.
But I recognize you by your beard,
And the blue uniform,
Of course.
The «Post-Impressionism»
A whole time,
A movement.
Me my artistic work,
I call that
Digital Painting
Yes, it is digital.
No, I don’t use paint anymore.
I prefer to show my work on screen.
Not on a canvas.
But I can print it!
It’s another way of doing it,
Another time.
Each his own period,
In fact,
I always hope one day,
May my images become so famous,
Or known as your Lol!
The one from your time.
Yes, you are right,
Van Gogh was not famous in his lifetime...
But his painting is recognizable.
He has his style,
The way he paints.
I also hope to have my personality.
That my work is recognizable.
In any case, yes it is you.
Pretty picture!!

Like every other day,

She’s going to the river.

She has her hours.

The river is well 50 meters from the house.

Today she’s going alone.

His neighbor will go later.

She goes there every day

To wash the laundry.

That of her husband,

Of his two children.

Especially the last one,

And his.

They don’t put much to it.

Yesterday, she bought a new soap,

"At Babua’s",

The local grocer.

She’s making arrangements with him.

Her husband will pay him this weekend.

When he receives his pay.

He has to go to the city to work.

He rides a moped.

She,

She’s still looking after the house and the kids

And one can from the vegetable garden.

The big one goes to the village school.

The smallest is too young for that.

But he’s not with her.

His sister keeps him at home with her son,

And that means his cousin.

The river has a light current.

She’s soaking her laundry,

On the water’s edge,

Where there is a long flat stone.

She has a little brush with her.

She uses it sometimes.

Once the laundry gets wet,

She rubs with her soap.

Then once all the laundry was washed,

She rinses it again, in the river.

Then, She twists the boom, so that the water leaves it.

The water of the river foam one can.

She puts the laundry back in her basket she brought,

Getting ready to go home to lay her laundry.

It’s just the beginning of the day.

She’s hoping tonight’s laundry will be dry,

So that tomorrow they can dress with this one.

Tomorrow, if weather permits,

She’ll come back with dirty laundry;

The one from today.

Now we have to go home,

To spread the laundry.

Then prepare the meal.

In fact,
I’m not saying,
But I would have tried.
I think this time,
I’m ready to...
So I’ll go for it.
I take ,
A mental impulse,
And I put it.
I listen to myself think,
And I let it go.
The ideas come,
And I type them on my keyboard,
Computer.
Great!!!
The words follow each other.
Form sentences.
Is it creative or something?
No, I don’t think so.
Always the same.
I say,
I do.
I reread,
I’m trying to understand,
To continue
That automatic writing?
Reflection.
Let go...
Especially not to stop,
And keep taking,
My foot.
Because yes, I like it.
I spill the words,
Of my mind,
At the creation of this text,
Who I hope will be read,
Even if only once,
In its entirety.
Someone else did it.
It makes me rejoice with pleasure,
Nothing but thinking.
Yes, I am waiting for this moment.
A comeback?
A quick note.
A little sentence in return?
Or a simple “like”,
On Facebook.
Or even simply,
Knowing that I was read a priori...
Thanks again.

Anyway,
I wasn’t gonna do it
(imperfect, I think)
As if,
Nothing is “parfait”
Even in French!!
Why do you do that anyway?
Do, undo,
Why not knit too?
This language so perfect.
Make a sweater out of it,
Or a sling.
Of course it’s not embroidery,
I don’t want lace.
But I don’t know how to...
Words are no longer enough.
Maybe? Choose other languages?
But nothing, nothing.
On the contrary,
I do.
I write,
I continue to materialize;
My words virtually,
On my computer screen.
What will become of them?
They will go,
On my blog.
Also on a Facebook page
Who will read this?
Must I, then, continue to do?
Or stop me there?
In any case;
I wasn’t gonna do anything;
And I got to this point...
And there it is!

We walk in the Valois woods
Around Dubry Lake,
The sky is all blue,
No cloud.
We stop at a bar.
We are in the early afternoon.
It is very hot.
We take two «Colorful».
Crushed ice.
Mixed with various syrups,
In different colors,
In a plastic cup,
With a straw to taste.
"Tchin!"
To your health!
It is sweet.
Tastes her mix up.
But more importantly,
It’s fresh.
It feels so good.
We continue to walk,
Before you stop;
And to pause on a bench,
In the shade of a tree,
Hiding something from the sun.
A light breeze,
Don’t stop the heat.
Sip,
I suck in the cold liquid,
It quenches my thirst.
Perspiration.
On my temples,
Under my armpits.
I also believe in the lower back.
Sweat droplets
Bead on my forehead,
And yes behind my back
My shirt
Is wet
Seated,
We continue our conversation.
I finished my drink.
Next to a trash can,
I’ll throw it all away.
We left the bench,
And we continue the tour of the lake.
Good thing the trees,
On the way,
We’re hiding something from the sun.
Yeah, I could use another drink.

Uncle Barnabas,
In his boat; he makes me laugh.
(Laughter I mean)
With his rheumatism,
Take his boat again?
At his age?
Tomorrow,
He’ll still be sore.
Maybe, by the way,
Will he stay in bed,
Just like last time.
But once again,
He insisted on taking the oars;
"Go row!" as he said.
It’s his Sunday madness.
Set off on the river that runs alongside his garden,
To go to Sassamon Lake.
He likes to go alone,
It reminds him of his youth.
He did this for the first time at the age of 11.
Now more than 80 spring...
He took his bottle with him.
I know that,
I saw her.
And a Trémont sausage
The one he appreciates time.
I don’t know what time he’ll be back?
For now, I let him go, alone.
He says he’d rather die in his boat,
What in his bed Lol!!
Anyway,
He’ll be home before dark.
Today,
The weather is fine.
Let him enjoy it!!

On the dock,

The departure of boats

While others arrive

Unloads their goods

Or, their passengers,

Coming back,

From a sea trip.

Each has its own schedule.

There is also for fish.

The fishing returns.

Sometimes selling this done on the dock.

Or in the fish shop.

Or go to the scream.

At the end of the day,

It is also the walk for many;

All the way to the pier.

There are also restaurants open at night.

And it’s still alive

Let them rain,

That they sell,

When the sea is strong

Less or no boats at sea

But some people like to watch the waves...

This faced with winds, nature...

When it can be dangerous.

But sheltered in the harbor.

The boats.

Are mooring.

In any case today,

The weather is fine.

The sea is calm.

The sea smell,

Revives me

I’m on the terrace

And I like the atmosphere of this port.

Dark along the hill
The shadows are scattered
Pine forest
Covers the other side
I take the path to the pass
Maybe I’ll stop before?
I’m breathing
I like his walks
In his mountain paths
I’m not staying long.
I walk,
And keep walking.
But the higher I rise, the better the view.
It’s not like the seashore...
The area is not salty here.
My feet stay dry.
I have walking shoes.
Certainly pebbles strew the ground,
And I’m careful not to fall,
Or twist my ankle.
Sometimes the slopes are rough.
The area cooler than in the valley.
I like it when the clouds are down.
Let me get past them.
The fear is mostly weather changes.
So, what’s the weather today?
Mild weather.
So I’m taking advantage
And keep me up.
Because before dark, we’ll have to go down.
A whole day of walking,
Alone in the mountains.
To change my mind
Ma airé.
It’s only morning
But I feel like I’m gonna
Enjoy this day.