Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Sea Song

 Once in awhile words insist on dropping by, to settle on the mind and demand a page, an audience of one, an ear to come alive or simply to fade away quietly in the background before sleep. This is one such poem, emerging from years of dormancy, tentatively peering over the edge of the soup bowl of rural life.

Sea Song          (Eng)                                                    recorded                        01-10-16 ns

This is a love song—yes a love song—this- is- a love song—swirling—swilling song—a sea song—rising from a dark ocean—floating to shore.

This is a one ear to the sand song—sea foam surging—washing fears and sloshing tears—rolling—lolling about before retreating in the wondrous beyond.

This is a sad song sneering at the sun—this is a sun song shining through the trees—winking—wicked—teasing—pleasing sun.

This is an offer—this is the power of peace over pain—like the open hand—the quiet gaze—an offer—an offer of self—free of fertility, of futility—in the open fields of racing minds.

This is a sound song—another dawn song—a concert of strange winds when the mind awakens and the waves overlap—billowing waves lap and lick bare legs—slap sleepy flesh—this morning of a fresh day.

Now is the symphony of time to erase the traces of writhing dreams of long yesterday—this is the song of silence sinking into sea—softly—softly.

Chant de la Mer   (Fr)

Ça c’est une chanson d’amour—eh oui chanson d’amour—c’est un chant tourbillonant au long des courants de la mer—surgissant des profondeurs de l’océan.

C’est la chanson du sable à l’oreille—des vagues qui lavent les frayeurs et les larmes—roulant tout autour avant de s’effacer dans le lointain mystérieux.

Ça c’est une chanson triste—se moquant du soleil—c’est le chant d’un soleil scintillant entre les branches.

C’est une offre—cette force paisible qui atténue la douleur de vivre—comme la main ouverte, le regard tranquille—une offre du soi-même—un geste sans fertilité sans futilité dans cette course aux âmes fécondes.

C’est un concert des sons étranges d’une nouvelle aube—quand le vent se réveille et les vagues se rencontrent—les vagues se chahutent—les vagues léchent la plage—léchent les jambes nues et giflent la chaire indolente.

C’est le matin de nouveau—le jour naissant qui efface les traces de rêves agonisants de jours passés—c’est la symphonie du temps—c’est le silence qui se submerge sous l’océan—doucement—doucement.

the following link takes this to the audio part of the experience. in English, the French version to follow.

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