The Widow

Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell,
Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,
When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey
Weary and way-sore.

Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflexions;
Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom!
She had no home, the world was all before her,
She had no shelter.

Historion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
Save reflexions of their souls.
Thus am I Dante for a space and am
One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief,
Or am such holy ones I may not write
Lest blasphemy be writ against my name;
This for an instant and the flame is gone.

Histrion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
Save reflexions of their souls.
Thus am I Dante for a space and am
One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief,
Or am such holy ones I may not write
Lest blasphemy be writ against my name;
This for an instant and the flame is gone.

Contents Page

The jungle, from the floor to the canopy,
Clogs and entwines
Its every rung and level with rank growth.
The python dines
Among an epiphytic gaudery
And hungry vines.
On the mizzled hair of the two-toed sloth
Moss has designs.
Yet all that climbing tonnage is content-free.
The top limbs sway as though to write in air,

Reflexions

Maybe it's a dream that was never meant to be
Only borrowed love lost in eternity
Maybe it's the window to your soul
Only blinding you with rock and roll
Maybe it's the sounds of silence in the wind
Elusive butterfly of love from Bob Lind
Maybe it's only a feeling that we're coming together
Husband and wife father and mother brother and sister
Maybe we're gathering for peace and loving
And we are mourning Woodstock not surviving

Grief From Mind End A.S. Griboedov

・THE PHENOMENON 21
The same and Hlestova, Sofia, Molchalin, Platon Mihajlovich, Natalia
Dmitrievna, the Countess the grand daughter, the Princess with daughters, Zagoretsky, Skalozub, then
Famusov and many others.
Hlestovа
Has become crazy! I ask obedient!
Yes accidentally! Yes as it is quick!
You, Sofia, heard?
Platon Mihajlovich
Who is the first do divulged?

Réflexions Constantes

Un ptéro-dactosaure dans le passé pré-historique
est en fait un reptile ordinaire enfin

loin dans les premiers temps de l'histoire un très énorme reptile
voler constamment mais seulement pendant un certain temps

son genre se réfère à un groupe maintenant éteint
de reptiles ailés connus sous le nom de groupe de ptérosaures

Je me souviens du ptéron grec,

Cooper Horseman A.S. Pushkin

The preface
The incident described in this story, is based on true.The flooding details are borrowed from magazines of that time. A curious can cope with the news made by V.N.Berh.
The introduction
On the store of a deserted waves
He had stay, by a great thoughts, is full,
And afar do looked. Before he widely
The river have rushed; a poor boat
Have aspired on it alone.
On the mossy, fenny coastes
The log huts are blackened here and there,

Mignonne, Charles Varenagh Aznavour N'est Plus Avec Nous

Mon papa aimait beaucoup, plantureusement Charles Aznavour.
Il écoutait ses chansons quand il buvait avec ses amis.
Aznavour était pour nous, le prince, par excellence, de l'amour
Qui possédait des grands talents et des styles inouïs.

Au berceau, c'étaient les mélodies de sa voix qui me faisaient dormir,
C'étaient ses chansons qui me plongeaient dans des sommeils,
Où je rêvais et mouillais le drap blanc que le soleil,
Plus tard, sécherait avec ses rayons d'or et de myrrhe.

En Septembre

Nous sommes au mois de Septembre
L'été vient juste de perdre ses membres
Sa chaleur, sa beauté et sa tendresse.

La température commence à se refroidir
Toi, la parfaite perfide, viens de partir
Avec tes cheveux garnis de vieillesse.

Oh! Les choses ne restent pas les mêmes
Tout change, tout se fond comme la crème

Je Ne Dors Pas; Je Rêve 

Je ne dors pas; je rêve
Mes deux yeux sont ouverts
Je vois le soleil à la crève
Je réalise que le monde est pervers
Après tant de réflexions
De calculs et de contestations
Les choses changent comme le caméléon
Nous sommes tous encerclés par des lions.

Je ne dors pas; je t'écoute

Muse Sings On Rhyme

MUSE SINGS ON RHYME


If by poetry we mean
thoughts or feelings on a page
transcribed allowing each to guage
inner meanings, purposed theme,
then rhyme – which frames with golden gleam
life’s page – may seem to set the stage
for deeper dreams, reflexions sage,

All The Colors In A Rainbow

How did a bird, all the colours
In a rainbow, come to find us.
How was she discovered, brothers
Wonders - my love is this for us.
I promise you gifts, like this
Don't fall out of magician's cuffs
Look, look at her reflexions bliss,
How beautiful, how beauteous
How radiant her reflexion:
Is she the sun, over water?

I Can't Avoid His Crown Of Thorns…

In a soggy crib, a pocket of winter
I can't avoid His crown of thorns
Loving reflexions on a Judas accuser
His tongues sharp; glacier swords.

Oh, Rasputin, they're mine own too
Oh, don't split hairs dear blasphemer
You're I is no peasant, mystic
You're no adviser faith-healer to me.

Réflexions

Je réfléchis sur mon pays
Le sol natal de ma patrie
Et ses supplications
Et ses dépravations


Je réfléchis sur nos malheurs
Et mon coeur meurtri de douleurs
Peuple déchu, mains tendues
Plan déçu, âme rendue.

Fine Wine

Adding and Subtracting the core of fine
wine
Arising mixtures of elements that are fine
and aged with time.
Sensations of the words of bittersweet,
A drying texture running down slow to the satisfaction
of a river that runs so deep.
The unique stresses of affections
yet the blessings come and go within the souls of
imperfections.

Mirrors

Mirrors all you see is reflexions
how do you know that what you see is real
all i see when i look into a mirrior
is everything appears backwards

My house reminds me of a fun house
we have mirrors in almost every room
all we need is a pointed roof over our heads
and we will be living just like those circus clowns do

Rilke - Sonnets To Orpheus 7

Mirror - never yet has one who truly knows
reached into the heart of your mystery -
that interstellar space where certainty evaporates
and we find only what reflects our preconceptions:

You - who squander the silences of the empty hall
when twilight steals into you from the naked woods,
until some dazed admirer lights the glittering lustre
of a chandelier in your impenetrable depths.

Epitaph

En vieillisant on devient plus fou et plus sage
As we get old we become at the same time more foolish and wiser) .

François, Duc De La Rochefoucauld - Réflexions.


I have grown old.
I have attained an age now
Were I may speak as I will:
If I offend or outrage,

I Miss You!

So many are the days,
Added with hope,
To read what you say.

But today is just another day,
Tomorrow maybe,
From you I might hay.

I miss you,
and from missing you,