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Very Short Poems - up to 8 Lines

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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: Very Short Poems - up to 8 Lines
    Posted: 28-Dec-2011 at 18:22
. . .
Don't rend your shirt in front of me in some pathetic lecture-
Not your shirt, your chest to rend for me is empty gesture.
The loudest the clamor is the falseness to conceal
And learned play and borrowed style don't make the real deal.

You can make one fall in love with an image pasted -
But the truth will come out and love will be wasted.
Don't waste time to run behind me and try to get me back -
I have no time for circus tricks and for poor parlor acts.
DQ


Edited by Don Quixote - 28-Dec-2011 at 18:23
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 04-Jan-2012 at 00:11
. . .
You call impossibilities but other names, and cover them with wild flowers and all
But still impossibilities they are, and on the ground they are bound to fall
Like snowflakes heavy with itself are drawn down like smelted lead
Like birds in hurricane, like ships crushed in waves, like bullets in the head

And there is no power on Earth that can stop them - as being bound down
Like some horrendous flight, that turns in fight with the gravity is drown
And the direction in which to go is dragging itself on the ground
So take your eyes away and don't insist to stop the rain - just go without sound.
DQ
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 26-Jan-2012 at 03:15
Emily Dickinson

HIS mind, of man a secret makes,
I meet him with a start,
He carries a circumference
In which I have no part,
Or even if I deem I do—        5
He otherwise may know.
Impregnable to inquest,
However neighborly.

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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 26-Jan-2012 at 03:22
There are many betrayals, and more to come along
What is a human to stare, and to bear, alone?
And all the betrayals known, and the avoided ones
Are not go to vanish because one through them looks pass.

The words are empty of meaning, and scream with torn out tongues
Like in eternal personal, personal hell are caught.
The words are only remembrance, like of a gutted mind -
Whenever facing betrayal, one have to go and fight.
DQ
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 27-Jan-2012 at 13:51
Pausing between clouds
the moon rests
in the eyes of its beholders
Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 28-Jan-2012 at 23:53
Captives

Some came in chains
Unrepentant but tired.
Too tired but to stumble.
Thinking and hating were finished
Thinking and fighting were finished
Retreating and hoping were finished.
Cures thus a long campaign,
Making death easy.


Ernest Hemingway

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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 29-Jan-2012 at 16:51
Since I'm currently biting into Francoa Villon, I'm going to post here one by one the 8-lined stanzas of his  "Testament - Ballade Des Dames Du Temps Jadis" /"Testament - Ballade for Women from Time Before, one stanza at a time.
...

Tell me where, or in what country

Is Flora, the lovely Roman,

Archipiades or Thaïs,

Who was her nearest cousin,

Echo answering, at clap of hand,

Over the river, and the meadow,

Whose beauty was more than human?

Oh, where is last year’s snow?

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 29-Jan-2012 at 16:53
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 30-Jan-2012 at 20:30
Francois Villon, Testament, 2nd stanza:

Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who commanded them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?

Oh, where is last year’s snow?




Edited by Don Quixote - 30-Jan-2012 at 20:31
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 31-Jan-2012 at 21:38
Francois Villon, Testament, 3rd stanza

Queen Blanche of the Siren’s voice

White as a swan, and Alice, say,

Bertha Big-Foot and Beatrice,

Arembourg, ruler of Maine,

Or Jeanne d’Arc of Lorraine,

The English burned at Rouen? Oh,

Where are they Virgin, you who reign?

Oh, where is last year’s snow?




Edited by Don Quixote - 31-Jan-2012 at 21:38
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 01-Feb-2012 at 20:17
Villon, the last stanza of the Testament:

Prince, don’t ask of me again

Where they are, this year or no,

I have only this last refrain:

Oh, where is last year’s snow?





Edited by Don Quixote - 01-Feb-2012 at 20:18
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 03-Feb-2012 at 01:04
Villon, I'm staring another poem I'm going to break in stanzas - "The Testament - The regrets of the Beautiful Heaulmiere"


Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmière

 By chance, I heard the belle complain,

The one we called the Armouress,

Longing to be a girl again,

Talking like this, more or less:

‘Oh, old age, proud in wickedness,

You’ve battered me so, and why?

Who cares, who, for my distress,

Or whether at all your blows I die?




Edited by Don Quixote - 03-Feb-2012 at 01:08
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05-Feb-2012 at 22:59
Villon, the "Regrets", 2nd stanza:

You’ve stolen away that great power

My beauty ordained for me

Over priests and clerks, my hour,

When never a man I’d see

Would fail to offer his all in fee,

Whatever remorse he’d later show,

But what was abandoned readily, 

Beggars now scorn to know.




Edited by Don Quixote - 05-Feb-2012 at 23:01
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 06-Feb-2012 at 21:12
Villon, "The Regrets" 3rd stanza:

Many a man I then refused –

Which wasn’t wise of me, no jest –

For love of a boy, cunning too,

To whom I gave all my largesse.

I feigned to him unwillingness,

But, by my soul, I loved him bad.

What he showed was his roughness,

Loving me only for what I had.

 





Edited by Don Quixote - 06-Feb-2012 at 21:13
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 07-Feb-2012 at 23:41
Villon, "Regrets", 4th stanza

He could drag me through the dirt,

Trample me underfoot, I’d love him,

Break my back, whatever’s worse,

If only he’d ask for a kiss again,

I’d soon forget then every pain.

A glutton, full of what he could win,

He’d embrace me – with him I’ve lain.

What’s he left me? Shame and sin.




Edited by Don Quixote - 07-Feb-2012 at 23:42
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 08-Feb-2012 at 23:41
Villon "Regrets"5th stanza

Now he’s dead, these thirty years:

And I live on, old, and grey.

When I think of those times, with tears,

What I was, what I am today,

View myself naked: turn at bay,

Seeing what I am no longer,

Poor, dry, meagre, worn away,

I almost forget myself in anger.


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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10-Feb-2012 at 01:16
Villon "Regrets", 6th stanza

Where’s my smooth brow gone:

My arching lashes, yellow hair,

Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,

That took in the cleverest there:

Nose not too big or small: a pair

Of delicate little ears, the chin

Dimpled: a face oval and fair,

Lovely lips with crimson skin?




Edited by Don Quixote - 10-Feb-2012 at 01:17
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12-Feb-2012 at 23:11
Villon, "Regrets", 7th stanza

The fine slender shoulder-blades:

The long arms, with tapering hands:

My small breasts: the hips well made

Full and firm, and sweetly planned,

All Love’s tournaments to withstand:

The broad flanks: the nest of hair,

With plump thighs firmly spanned,

Inside its little garden there?

 




Edited by Don Quixote - 12-Feb-2012 at 23:12
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14-Feb-2012 at 21:51
Villon, "Regrets" 7th stanza:

Now wrinkled forehead, hair gone grey:

Sparse eyelashes: eyes so dim,

That laughed and flashed once every way,

And reeled their roaming victims in:

Nose bent from beauty, ears thin,

Hanging down like moss, a face,

Pallid, dead and bleak, the chin

Furrowed, a skinny-lipped disgrace.




Edited by Don Quixote - 14-Feb-2012 at 21:51
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14-Feb-2012 at 21:52
Villon, "Regrets, 8th stanza:

This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The shoulders hunched up utterly:

Breasts….what? In full retreat,

Same with the hips, as with the teats:

Little nest, hah! See the thighs,

Not thighs, thighbones, poor man’s meat,

Blotched like sausages, and dried.




Edited by Don Quixote - 14-Feb-2012 at 21:52
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14-Feb-2012 at 21:53
Villon, "Regrets", last stanza:

That’s how the bon temps we regret

Among us, poor old idiots,

Squatting on our haunches, set

All in a heap like woollen lots

Round a hemp fire men forgot,

Soon kindled, and soon dust,

Once so lovely, that cocotte

So it goes for all of us.




Edited by Don Quixote - 14-Feb-2012 at 21:54
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