tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4875998571352345942024-03-06T02:50:07.417+01:00Worthless PoetryBlaugue d'un clochard etudiant en litterature. Vous y trouverez textes et remarques inutiles.Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-39589703199343636392014-01-29T13:41:00.002+01:002014-01-29T13:41:43.222+01:00DéménagementLectrice, lecteur,<br />
<br />
Après trois ans de négligence crasse, Worthless Poetry annonce enfin son hiatus de fait.<br />
<br />
Mark Tapley écrit dorénavant sur <a href="http://metroniques.tumblr.com/"><b>metroniques.tumblr.com</b></a>.<br />
<br />
Venez-y nombreux et venez-y souvent.<br />
<br />
Bonne lecture,<br />
MTesq.Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-62964407194008036132010-05-16T19:30:00.002+02:002013-03-22T19:17:56.431+01:00Loth<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>Gn 19 1-8</i></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Vous êtes immenses et vous me faites peur</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Vos cheveux sont du blé vos yeux sont des fleurs</span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Vos parures sont tissées de fil de rêve</span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">O sycomores dont l'Eternel est la sève</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Entrez<br /></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">On me dit qu'une foule vient vous chercher</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ils ne vous trouveront pas je vais vous cacher</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Je ne laisserai pas de tels impies</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Défiler mes hôtes tant bénis</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />On les entend déjà qui hurlent dehors</span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mais je jure que je préférerais la mort</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A un tel sacrilège sous mon toit</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Je vous le répète ils ne vous auront pas</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">O Sodomites prenez donc mes filles</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Bien qu'elles soient plus moins nubiles</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Elles sont encore tout à fait vierges<br />Et ce serait la moins infâme sacrilège<br /><br />Tiens, prends-en une, et toi aussi, qui n'a qu'un oeil</span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Je vous permets de les trousser a même mon seuil</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Commettez avec elle tout ce qui vous passe par la tête</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mais ne touchez pas a mes hôtes célestes.</span></span></div>
</span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-54752518171783321912010-05-01T08:59:00.002+02:002010-05-01T09:00:59.578+02:00Hereafter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">sunsets at all hours</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and dawns on command</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the heady scent of moonflowers</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be songsanddancesandlaughter and</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">but dreamlessness</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">clouds to tread on</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and rainbowcoloured sands</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the moon to rest your feet on</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be beautyandwisdomandpeace and</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">but dreamlessness</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the milky way for a bed</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and constellations for nightstands</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">aurora borealis but a pillow for your head</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be sunshineandrosesandgoodwine and</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">but dreamlessness</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">leftovers for the dog</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and sighs of satisfaction</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">blankets of autumn fog</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There will be picnicsanddaysatthebeachandwalksintheforest and</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">but dreamlessness</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />If I do get a place in Heaven</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I ask but to be given</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the gentle cloak of night</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">for needles shards of starlight</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and enough thread to weave a dream</span></span></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-63813657149444137872010-05-01T08:52:00.003+02:002010-05-01T08:58:18.556+02:00Songecreux<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Songecreux allait sous la glycine sauvage</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Qui pousse au fronton des nuages</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dans ses yeux encor bleus</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">se reflétait la nuit</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Qui comme un vin capiteux</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Se diffusait en lui</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Il rêvait à des mondes chimériques</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Peuplé de tout un bestiaire magique</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et d'esprits malicieux</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et de déesses opalines</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">C'est à cela que rêvait Songecreux</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">En allant sous la glycine</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dans la pénombre vespérale</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Il marchait d'un pas machinal</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et ses yeux voyaient sans voir</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Des profondeurs sans fond</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Creuser la langueur du soir</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Au rythme de symphonies sans son</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />Rêve donc Songecreux tes rêves inutiles</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Effleure le fond de l'éther hume les gaz volatiles</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Laisse les pieds de ton âme t'emmener</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">O</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ù</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> jamais tes pieds ne t'emmèneront</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Laisse ton génie familier</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Te montrer ce qui n'a pas de nom</span></span><br /></div></div></span></span></div></span></div></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-29217319844198979972010-04-04T22:56:00.007+02:002010-04-04T23:11:48.123+02:00Après-midi d'un Faune (suite et fin)<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Au plus profond de la forêt</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Trône un faune un peu follet</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Qui pâle et maigre et plein de poux</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Rêve les rêves auxquels rêvent les fous.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hirsute, hilare, irrationnel,</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Plein de malice et d'hydromel</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Il fait soupirer et gémir</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Un misérable semblant de lyre</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et tente de chanter un peu,</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Pour apaiser les moustiques fâcheux</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Qui lui sucent sans cesse le sang</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et lui agacent les tympans.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">O diptères féroces, chante-t-il,</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Vous êtes cent vous êtes mille</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et je suis seul et sans défense</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Contre vos sabres et vos lances<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Laissez-moi donc chanter en paix</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Les joies d'être seul en forêt</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Joies, d'ailleurs, qui perdent leur lustre</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Quand vous apparaissez, minuscules rustres!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mais les moustiques, imperturbables,</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Devaient trouver son sang agréable,</span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Car quelques heures après,</span></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Son cadavre exsangue gisait au pied d'un cyprès.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Et une petite douceur pour Pâques. Que Mallarmé me pardonne</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">...</span></span></i></span></i></div></div></div></div></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-61023480126772513842010-03-31T22:59:00.002+02:002010-05-01T08:52:18.706+02:00The Slow Waves<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;">O let me sleep<br />Let my mind wade in the shallows of the dreamtide<br />Let it utter wonders before me<br />Give me a lion to tame and a unicorn to ride<br />And a number of skies no matter how stormy<br />That I may go where there be dragons</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;"><br /><div><br />Let me sleep</div><div>Let me bridge the chasm of night<br />With bright-eyed wonder<br />Let me pull down the veil of sight<br />That I may tear it asunder<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep<br />Let me lie in the shade of the colourful trees<br />Let me listen to their whispered songs<br />Show me the things the blind man sees<br />Teach me the mute's secret tongue<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep</div><div>Let me shake the boughs of chance<br />Let me reap the stories that drop</div><div>Let me dance a tender dance<br />With a raindrop</div><div>That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep<br />Let me use a poppy's petal as a sail<br />That I might glide upon the still oceans<br />of heaven Let me walk the unclear trail</div><div>Let me drink the troubled potion<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep</div><div>Let the curtain of my eyelids<br />Fall before the stage of the world<br />That I may see the sylphids<br />That I may touch their moonlit curls<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep<br />Let my breath sing of glorious three-faced ghosts<br />In the loneliness of my bed</div><div>Let me walk the muddied coast<br />Of the sea inside my head<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /><div>Let me sleep</div><div>Let me catch a glimpse of Jovedimarmoreon<br />Through a static haze<br />One-eyed-three-legged-woman-headed saurian<br />That exists only on Thursdays<br />That I may go where there be dragons<br /></div><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;">Let me sleep<br />Let Morpheus most merciful take me in his arms<br />He the butterfly-winged drunken magician<br />Let him tell me of spells and curses and charms<br />Let him grant me hallucination<br />That I may go where there be dragons</span></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-56853630662803587572010-03-27T18:27:00.001+01:002010-03-27T18:28:16.111+01:00Les Manes de nos Dignes Morts 2.0Meme exercice:<div><a href="http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_103phxbmcct">http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_103phxbmcct</a></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-23055913986778702862010-03-27T17:55:00.004+01:002010-03-27T18:02:03.805+01:00Jeux de FoieExperience:<div><br /></div><div>J'ai tente de modifier la mise en page de Feux de Joie.</div><div>Puisque je n'arrive pas a reproduire mes mises en page plus esoteriques sur le blaugue directement:</div><div><a href="http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_102dsxk6fdk">http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_102dsxk6fdk</a></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-52333909017980464322010-03-27T16:52:00.005+01:002010-03-27T18:32:46.634+01:00Hardcore<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Black Mariah Number One<br />Blotting out the burnt-out sun<br />Cackling Fakir on the roof<br />Spikes and swords and tiger's tooth<br />Fits of laughter in the middle of the street<br />Raw gums and bleeding feet<br /></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Shoot the bombs before they hit the ground<br />Get your stray bullets at the lost and found<br /></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Flaming hair in the Summer Twilight<br />Fresh air orgasm at the End of the Night<br /></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Break the heart before it beats again<br />Drown the pieces in acid rain</span></span></i>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-9354025464486170732010-03-27T16:42:00.002+01:002010-03-27T16:47:04.964+01:00Art de la Fugue<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Il faut attendre que tout soit calme</div>que la lune soit levée et le chien endormi<br />Et alors dans la trame<br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">de la nuit a pas de fourmi</div>il faut y aller<br /><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait au rythme des pas sur la route</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et du souffle délicat</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">du vent d'août</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">entre les doigts.</div><br />Cela se fait sans gloire<br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">dans la pénible délicatesse du petit jour</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">en compagnie d'un café trop noir</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">et d'une lettre d'amour</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait avec une peur bleue</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">tapie au fond du ventre comme un loup acculé</div>avec la cigarette au coin des lèvres qui tremble un peu<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">et le coeur brûlé</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait sans colère</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">dans le baume du matin</div>en évitant les fondrières<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">et les terriers de lapin</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait sans se hâter</div>après tout il n'y a pas le feu<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se marie très bien avec une tranche de pâté</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">une entrecôte et du fromage bleu</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait sans traîner</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">On ne traîne pas quand on part pour de bon<br />Et puis sans se gêner<br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">car enfin cela se fait avec passion</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait avec amour</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">sous le soleil aveugle de <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">l'après-</span>midi</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Après tout on ne fait pas <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ça</span> tous les jours</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">ni pour n'importe qui</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cela se fait dans la <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lumière</span> du <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">crépuscule</span></div></div>dans les sombres ruelles<br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">d'une une ville inconnue</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Dans l'odeur d'une chambre <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">d'hôtel</span><br /><br />Cela se fait en silence</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">quand tout redevient calme</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">et cela se termine par un tout petit pas de danse</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">ou une toute petite gamme.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i>Encore un poesme francois. Decidement je vous gate.</i></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-42205846761583568222010-03-17T21:44:00.006+01:002010-03-27T18:38:49.387+01:00Il arrive que je rêve a tes yeux (ritournelle)<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">EDIT</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">La mise en page voulue se trouve ici:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_1043jfvdqf8">http://docs.google.com/View?id=dgc3mz24_1043jfvdqf8</a><br /></span></span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div></span></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-24799068854875342562010-03-17T21:32:00.004+01:002010-03-27T16:58:27.443+01:00Imaginary Parts of 'Z' / The Bellyscratch Whores<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It’s so silent in the deserts of the mind<br />It’s so bloody cold out here.<br />The bleak white sun wounds the air<br />And bleeds rather than shines.<br /><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">He’s so tired he can feel himself think;<br />And he’s been sitting here since God-knows-when,<br />It may have been a year, it may have been ten;<br />His hair is turning white; your eyes are turning pink<br />Unless I’m seeing things:<br />It’s easy to hallucinate<br />When all you have left are your eyes and your fate,<br />And one of them burns, and the other one stings.<br /><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Gathered here we are all bereaved<br />And cynical about it – some of the time.<br />We are starved for Literature and thirsty for Rhyme<br />But all we ever do about it is feel grieved<br />Or listen to midnight sighs, or both, or neither.<br />Thirsty as we are at the bottom of the well,<br />Vulnerable as we are beneath our shells,<br />Cold as we are at the bottom of the seether –<br />It’s all in our hearts, it’s all in our heads:<br />The world is full of love when the world is full of fear.<br />There are those who’ve never laughed and those who never shed a tear,<br />But they’re all the same to us, we’ve torn our brains to shreds.<br /><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We seek solace in the forgiveness of Time,<br />And therefore repeat, neverending, into its silken ear –<br />It’s so bloody cold out here,<br />It’s so silent in the deserts of the mind.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I find this a bit rambling and confused, but it is a worthy introduction to the Juvenilia, both in that sense, and in that it centers on some very common themes for me at the time. These themes were: blank page syndrome, and a generally bad opinion of so-called "literary" people. I never got round to choosing the most appropriate title, as each refers to a different theme in the poem. So I just left both.</span></span></i></span></div></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-8694407560585243422010-03-17T21:22:00.004+01:002010-03-27T16:52:15.395+01:00Au fond de l'inconnu pour trouver du recyclableJ'interromps le programme habituel (par ailleurs de moins en moins <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">régulier</span>, je m'en excuse), pour expliquer les <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">entrées a venir</span> qui seront <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">publiées</span>, sous le label "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">juvenilia</span>". Ces <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">poèmes</span> (tous en anglais, "Lunes" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">étant</span> mon premier vrai <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">poesme</span> f<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">rançois</span>) datent d'avant la <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">création</span> de ce <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">blaugue</span> et <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">étaient</span> confines <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">jusqu'à</span> maintenant a un bout perdu de <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">l'Entretoile</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">poemhunter.org </span>(bon site par ailleurs). Ils ont <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">été</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">écrits</span> entre 2004 et 2007, a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Versailles</span>, en <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Irlande</span>, et a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Pékin pour la plupart</span>. Certains ont <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">été</span> utilise comme paroles lorsque je me prenais pour une <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">rockstar</span>, d'autres sont inchantables.<div>Quoiqu'il en soit, ces <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">poèmes</span>, de <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">qualité</span> variable, sont une partie importante de ce que je suis de plus en plus tente d'appeler mon oeuvre.</div><div><br /></div><div>Change <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">pace</span> O <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">two</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">readers</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">The</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">next</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">few</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">posts</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">under</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">the</span> label "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">juvenilia</span>" are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">poems</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">wrote</span> as a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">teenager</span> in France, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Ireland</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Beijing</span> (2004-2007). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">They</span> are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">beginning</span> stages <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">poetic</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">work</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">which</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">is</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">by</span> no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">means</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">finished</span>), and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">should</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">be</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">read with</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">the</span> indulgence <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">aforded</span> a 15 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">to</span> 18 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">year-old</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">Some</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">of</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">them</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">were</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">used</span> as lyrics <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">when</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">was</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67">raspy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68">long-haired</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69">lead</span> singer in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70">rock'n'roll</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71">band</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72">high</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73">school</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74">Others</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75">proved</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76">unsingable</span>.</div><div>I have also put in this category some of my earlier English-language posts - Last Stop Said the Angel, the Crimson City of the North, etc. as they conform to the time period.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77">You</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78">be</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80">judges</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Amour, gloire et <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81">beaute</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82">may</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83">the</span> Force <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84">be</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85">with</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86">you</span>,</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87">MT</span>(<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_88">esq</span>)*</div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-81858741230341259952010-02-19T09:09:00.002+01:002010-03-17T21:43:29.830+01:00En Chasse<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;">Vers la montagne embrumee d'or<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Vient chevauchant, droit et fier,</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Un chevalier portant la mort</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">A la ceinture. Vetu de fer</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et de vermeil et de bouts de meteores</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">La main ferme, l'oeil severe</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Il cherche cherche cherche encore</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Le terrible dragon, son adversaire.</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Mais ou est-il? Et que fait-il?</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et se peut-il qu'il ait fui?</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Se pourrait-il qu'il se defile?</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Ses dents se serrent, son regard luit,</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et au bout de son bras viril</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Tremble impatient son glaive brandi</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Il ne pensait pas si difficile</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">De se trouver un ennemi.</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Mais quand il le trouvera,</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Cet accident de la nature,</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Son ventre il lui ouvrira!</div>A ce couard! A cette raclure!<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et ce faisant il rira!</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Notre heros au regard si dur,</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Et le monstre mort il le laissera</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Aux charognards! en pature!</div><br /><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: right; ">Dans la montagne embrumeee d'or</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: right; ">Parmi les bouleaux pales et freles</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: right; ">Le dragon amoureux dort</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: right; ">Et reve reve reve a sa belle...</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: right; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i>Ca faisait longtemps hein?...</i></div><div><br /></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-39796215633691429052009-10-03T09:43:00.004+02:002009-10-03T10:09:34.641+02:00ComptineMa mie t'es-tu promenée<div>Sifflotant sifflotant</div><div>Sous les branches chargées</div><div>De fleurs argentées?</div><div><br /></div><div>As-tu entendu le vent</div><div>Siffloter siffloter</div><div>Le vent mauvais le vent méchant</div><div>Siffloter son étrange chant?</div><div><br /></div><div>T'es-tu alors arrêtée</div><div>Sifflotant sifflotant</div><div>Croyant entendre le chant des fées?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ma mie c'est moi que tu entends</div><div>Siffloter siffloter</div><div>L'étrange chant du vent mauvais l'étrange chant du vent méchant</div><div><br /></div><div>Ma mie tu n'as pas rêvé</div><div>Sifflotant sifflotant</div><div>Dans le bois couleur de songe<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>je t'ai suivie pour mieux t'aimer...</div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-57553394257674331352009-09-27T17:16:00.003+02:002009-09-27T17:57:01.904+02:00Epyllion<div style="text-align: left;">Pleure O toi dont la tête porte (encore timidement) le laurier</div><div>Pleure les muses trop belles</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>fanées au soleil de tes yeux</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>brûlées au feu de tes mots</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>effeuillées par tes doigts fiévreux</div><div>Que tes larmes battent le mètre</div><div>Que tes mains qui qrqchent ta blonde chevelure</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>en fassent des cordes pour ta lyre.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chante O toi dont les yeux refusent de rester fermés</div><div>Chante-les telles quelles</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>noircies de tes vers impétueux</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>noyées dans l'alcool de tes sanglots</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>abandonnées à ton toucher amoureux</div><div>Que tes mots à chaque lettre</div><div>Les dénudent un peu plus Qu'on les voie impures</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>putains dont le corps est ta partition.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dis O toi dont les oreilles se tendent pour happer le monde</div><div>Dis l'étrange nom de chacune</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ensanglantées de runes</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>pendues à la corde de ta douleur</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ivres du nectar de ta jeunesse</div><div>Que comme mûrs ils tombent de ta bouche</div><div>Qu'ils tachent le pauvre tapis de ta chambre</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>et que ces taches soient tes trophées.</div><div><br /></div><div>Rêve O toi dont la vois coule de ta gorge comme une onde</div><div>Rêves les visages qui furent tes lunes</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>creusés au burin de ta plume</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>blêmes à la lanterne de ta rancoeur</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Effacés par la gomme de ton ivresse</div><div>Que leurs dents soient comme des touches</div><div>Que tu puisses y jouer des sérénades sauvages et tendres</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>au tempo lent des marches funèbres.</div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-67491967740549976252009-09-27T15:25:00.004+02:002009-09-27T17:57:23.130+02:00De Nouveaux Parnasses II (le retour!)On les a vus, rêvant au Grand Soir<div>Titubant à la sortie des bars</div><div>Errant dans l'aube glauque des rues de Paris</div><div>De Londres de Madrid ou d'Amsterdam</div><div>Traquant le prochain verre, guettant la prochaine femme</div><div>Sans se soucier de portefeuilles, de flics ou de maris:</div><div>Les Poëtes!</div><div><br /></div><div>On les a accusés de toucher à l'Infini</div><div>De le souiller de leurs gros doigts de leurs petits cris</div><div>Prosternés devant des ivrognes et des putains</div><div>Discutant des bienfaits du thé du fascisme du viol</div><div>Un oeil sur le trottoir dans l'espoir d'une flaque d'alcool</div><div>Buveurs de vinaigre à quatre heures du matin:</div><div>Les Poëtes!</div><div><br /></div><div>Quand à la brune ils sortent de chez eux</div><div>On voit sous leurs chapeaux luire leurs yeux</div><div>Come des gouttes de sang ou de vin de messe</div><div>Suant l'opium frelaté coupé à la graisse de canard</div><div>Leurs lèvres encombrées déjà de vers bâtards</div><div>Où il est rarement question d'autre chose que de fesse:</div><div>Les Poëtes!</div><div><br /></div><div>Chante, lyre, la douleur d'Orphée</div><div>Qui mourut massacré au nom de la Beauté</div><div>Et chante les rires de Bacchus et d'Hadès</div><div>Qui voient d'un bon oeil ces mignards énergumènes</div><div>Vengeurs de Lucifer (qu'ils croient!) et amants de Melpomène</div><div>Dont l'amour est la folie et le vin la sagesse:</div><div>Les Poëtes!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Ecrit pour le Sieur Synoid, à l'occasion de son jubilé. Si vous reconnaissez des gens, c'est que vous fréquentez des fréquentations peu fréquentables.</i></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-68088003962356961602009-09-27T15:07:00.005+02:002009-09-27T15:24:56.344+02:00Tourism Board BluesTumbleweed!<div>Where there is no right side to the tracks</div><div>Where brides wear rags and beggars wear white</div><div>And they're all made up like clowns</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's a fucking freakshow, this town.</div><div><br /></div><div>The streets here bleed</div><div>A steady flow of lowlives and sadsacks</div><div>And never a day goes by without a halfhearted fight</div><div>Or murder theft rape arson</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And zho's going to stop them?</div><div><br /></div><div>The judges are all drunk</div><div>And the sheriff's asleep, dreaming of a haven</div><div>Where there are no laws to break or uphold.</div><div>The ghosts of dead soldiers haunt the saloon</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Drinking the milk of the moon.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a preacher-punk</div><div>Stands on a soapbox, says we'll all go to Heaven</div><div>Because there is a Heaven - at least that's what we're told - </div><div>"Where the angels leave tracks in the clouds and smoke:</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Cigarettes don't kill you up there, folks!".</div><div><br /></div><div>And the streets speak.</div><div>Word on the street is, there is a war on</div><div>That's being fought with harps and firehoses.</div><div>Word on the street is, they've got us by the balls</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And they won't let go till the fat lady falls.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a circus freak</div><div>(Most people think he's a bit of a moron)</div><div>Who lives off nothing but sunshine and roses</div><div>In the evil dusk he dances and sings</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Like a loose plastic bag or a mad English King.</div><div><br /></div><div>Welcome O stranger to Tumbleweed!</div><div>Where dreamers come to die and the dead come to feed...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>I wrote a first version of this poem over a year ago. THen a second, then a third. It has been a sonnet, a blank-verse freeform, a prose poem and a dramatic monologue. I think this is the final version.</i></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-50033355559718830812009-09-27T15:01:00.004+02:002009-09-27T15:06:41.312+02:00The Reeling Wheeling Constellation<div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">(for the dead)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">It is nigh the broken-glass dawn</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">With its charade of dew and birds</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Already its cool wet tongue</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Licks my toes like a dog's</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">I arise from a bed of mud</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Drunk still and floating</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Several inches above the ground</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">And I hit my head on the sky</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">I have dreamt this place, I think</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">With its watercolour trees</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">That stretch their limbs across the world</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Like drunk wallpaper</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">or dead dancers</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">There is sky falling through the branches</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">In a raid of silent divebombers</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">And the heady scented poppies</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Are the ever-loving bombs</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">I have tried to hit the ground running</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Sunk as I was and legless</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">I have felt twinges of yearning</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">Between the sweet blows of the sunshine</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">They condemn me these rays of gold</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">That tear at the fluff of the clouds</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">And etch their anger at the back of my eyes</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">To bliss atrocious</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; ">or razorblade tenderness</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "> </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "> I have felt the love of the murdered for the blade.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><i>Summer 2004 - woke up in the forest, hungover for the first time in my life.</i></div><div><br /></div></span></i></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-6109403682190593392009-05-04T18:25:00.008+02:002009-09-27T18:04:24.404+02:00Serment du Fou<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="margin-top: 6px; margin-right: 6px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 6px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; min-height: 1100px; counter-reset: __goog_page__ 0; line-height: normal; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family:Verdana;font-size:10pt;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="margin-top: 6px; margin-right: 6px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 6px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; min-height: 1100px; counter-reset: __goog_page__ 0; line-height: normal; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family:Verdana;font-size:10pt;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(148, 15, 4); font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Dans la nuit dans le froid dans les feux de forêt<br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">J'étais lui j'étais toi j'étais eux (c'est pas vrai</span><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Mais c'est joli à dire quand même</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Et puis c'est folie de n'être que soi-même)</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">J'ai pleuré des chimères dans le silence des fées</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Effleuré des mystères dans la danse des marées</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">(Comprenez que je me suis cru mystique</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Condamné que je suis à l'heuristique)</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Et Ô ma mère! je ne sais pas trop à quelle</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Divine Lumière je naissais, mais en elle</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">J'ai cru, fifres fanfare et farandole</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">J'AI CRU! (Qu'on m'ôte donc cette camisole!)</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Toi! ami, amie, passant devant ma cage</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Sans fuir, sans frémir, sans détourner le visage</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Toi! qui m'a vu au sommet de ma gloire</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Toi! qui a su, quand il le fallait, choir,</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Viens! dormir avec moi dans les lits des rivières</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Viens! dormir dans tes bras est comme une prière</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">(Tu m'as vu, dans la nuit de ma cellule,</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Dansant; dis, abeille, dis, libellule,</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Tu ne m'as pas cru fou, toi?) ...et tu pars</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Du pas si sûr, si doux, des femmes/filles/phares</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Et je ne puis te rappeler, soeur, frère,</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Déjà tu fuis vers ton palais de verre...</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Mais Toi! qui m'as vu errer dans les ruelles</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Comme un roi qui, déchu, rêve encore a sa belle</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">Que tu sois reine ou putain, viens donc dans mes bras</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"> Je jure de n'aimer plus que toi.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">La ponctuation est a revoir, et sera donc modifiee dans les jours qui viennent.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">A part ca, je n'ai absolument aucun commentaire a faire.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">(ah si, tiens. aujourd'hui est le 357eme anniversaire de Kangxi, empereur de Chine contemporain de Louis XIV.)</span></span></div></span></span></div></div></span></div></span></span></div></div></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-6882057602548697862009-04-04T21:51:00.005+02:002009-04-05T14:37:09.643+02:00ForisIl pleut de l'étrange dans les forêts obscures<div>Ça recouvre la voûte des arbres de striures</div><div>D'or et d'argent. A travers les coupes sombres, </div><div>A cloche-pied, à quatre pattes, dans l'ombre,</div><div>tu es venue.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ombre entre les ombres, silencieusement</div><div>Tu m'as mis à l'abri des injures du vent</div><div>et du chant de la pluie. O toi! mon coeur est pris</div><div>Entre tes doux bras, entre les draps de ton lit</div><div>de feuilles mortes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dansant entre les branches des arbres à corbeaux</div><div>Dans le bruissement des ailes des escarbots,,</div><div>Sous la voilure soupirante des arbres</div><div>Sous un ciel de jais, une lune de marbre</div><div>tu es venue.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tes pas sourdent comme les battements de coeur</div><div>De la <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">forêt</span> </span></span></span>. Tu t'étends et te tords, à fleur</div><div>De cime, me tentant, te tenant à l'orée</div><div>De mon coeur, par-delà le tapis mordoré</div><div>des feuilles mortes.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Du Francois!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Tremblez, marauds, Mark Tapley est de retour!</span></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-35383417391809275412009-03-31T14:41:00.005+02:002009-03-31T15:07:20.962+02:00Południowy krzyż<span style="font-size:100%;">They have walked many a lonely mile<br />to reach the edge of the forest<br />They have crossed frozen oceans and danced<br />in plains of swaying gold<br /><br />They walked in a single file<br />without stopping once to rest<br />They swaggered and they strutted and they pranced<br />and watched the skt above unfold<br /><br />They have penetrated the still shadows<br />stretched across the trees<br />They have broken the fragile threads of light<br />that hang through the branches from the sky<br /><br />They entered amidst the timid throes<br />Of the things that live beneath the canopies<br />They trod the carpet of black and white<br />and they lay on the ground and sighed:<br /><br />"THIS IS THE END OF THE ROAD"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The title is in Polish, but I might have got the declination wrong. It is the name of an oak<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">in </span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Białowieża forest shaped like a 120 ft high cross, that used to be a place of pilgrimage. I'm not entirely sure yet about this poem - you be the judges.<br /></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-72430759914393659112009-03-31T14:33:00.002+02:002009-03-31T14:38:17.334+02:00Hills like VeilsI tried to write a poem <div> about the city of Rome </div> <div> and all I could come up with was this: </div> <div> <br /></div> <div> City of flickering lights </div> <div> And old stones </div> <div> Millions have tried to write </div> <div> About Rome </div> <div> <br /></div> <div> City of romantic love </div> <div> And museums </div> <div> A million poets have dreamed of </div> <div> A million poems </div> <div> <br /></div> <div> Why will you not yield </div> <div> To the rage </div> <div> Of the pen upon the field </div> <div> Of the page? </div> <div> <br /></div> Are you too grand, too old <div> Or too mighty? </div> <div> Do you not like to be told </div> <div> Of your own beauty? </div> <div> <br /></div> You have baffled me <div> I admit </div> <div> As you have before me </div> <div> Much sharper wits.<br /> <div> <br /> </div> <br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Poem written in Rome, on February the 27th.<br />You may have noticed from the previous poe and this one that I am opening up to new influences, less solemn and less passionate. Don't get used to it.<br /></span> </div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-70720965800370202472009-03-31T14:20:00.003+02:002009-03-31T14:33:39.662+02:00Broken ThingsWe have journeyed many years<br />Swum through laughter and through tears<br />It has taken many an ended row<br />To be where we are now.<br /><br />Even now that we've come to this place<br />The light of love still graces your face<br />In the wrinkled shadows your eyes<br />still shine a bit -<br />Your left eye laughs and your right eye cries.<br /><br />Something dripping catches my ear<br />It may be the tap and it ay be a tear<br />hitting the carpet.<br />But we're a happy couple with a house, a dog, a Rover<br />so I keep reading<br />the fucking newspaper<br />Warm and safe in the comfort of the sofa.<br /><br />We have come a long way together<br />and it's not enough<br />I think, as we sit opposite each other<br />and chew.<br />We have seen long sumer days<br />or at least<br />between rainstorms<br />Through the quiet English haze<br />we have glimpsed them.<br /><br />We have come to that point, we say<br />with affection<br />Where we can sit together all day<br />in silence<br />but not boredom<br />Because we know each other so well<br />and feel<br />so comfortable<br />That there is no such thing as a dry spell<br />in th lush garden<br />of our love.<br /><br />I sit and sip and feel the caffeine<br />after dinner<br />As you clear and wash up and tidy and clean<br />gracefully<br />like it's no chore.<br />There's a smell from the kitchen of something sad<br />so I light a fag<br />and inhale<br />And think of all the good times we have had.<br />I chuckle<br />as I look from the television<br />to the garden<br />complete with shed and lawnmower.<br /><br /><br />...and I hear something drip again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Du nouveau en Anglais et bientot du nouveau en Francais!<br />(j'entends deja les hourras...)<br />Je sais, vous n'osiez plus l'esperer...<br /></span>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-487599857135234594.post-61807253505730411382008-10-16T18:06:00.004+02:002008-10-16T18:21:28.084+02:00Chanson marineOn a vu au bout du monde un arbre, aux branches duquel<div>Pendent des corps <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">célestes</span> aux tons d'opale et de miel.</div><div>Les marins en parlent dans les ports, de la <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lumière</span> plein les pleurs:</div><div>Tous aveugles, les yeux <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">brûlés</span> et de cendres au lieu du coeur -</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes qu'on chante sur les quais</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes dont les fruits gonflent les filets</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div>On dit que ses feuilles sont de l'azur le plus clair;</div><div>Qu'il plonge ses racines au plus profond des sept mers;</div><div>Et qu'il est toujours en fleur, des fleurs aux reflets d'or</div><div>Qui font <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">rêver</span> les marins au phare lointain du port -</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes qu'on pleure sur le pont</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes dont les fleurs sont des chansons</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div>L'arbre a lunes a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">brûlé</span> les yeux des vieux marins,</div><div>Ceux qui meurent a demi dans la pluie du matin.</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Pêchant</span> encore, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pêchant</span> toujours, couchés sur les pontons</div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Espérant,</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">malgré</span> la pluie, attraper une chanson -</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes qu'on garde au fond des yeux</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes dont les racines sont des cheveux</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div>Un vieux marin m'a raconte qu'il avait vu <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">l'arbre</span> a lunes:</div><div>Les feuilles <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">hachurées</span> d'argent le bois creuse de <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">runes,</span></div><div>Il semblait irradier de couleur les gris embruns</div><div>Et saa <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">beauté</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">auréolée</span> avait aveuglé le vieux marin -</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes qu'on raconte dans les tavernes</div><div style="text-align: right;">C'est l'arbre a lunes dont les feuilles sont en berne.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">....Premier poeme depuis "L'Illuminante"! Une secheresse de trois mois vient de s'arreter!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Attendez-vous a des poemes de temps en temps, dorenavant...</span></div>Mark Tapleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01248071787773349749noreply@blogger.com3