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5 octobre 2014 7 05 /10 /octobre /2014 09:19

 

                                          l'aube voilée -

                                          la nuit s'accroche

                                          à la toile

 

                                                       *

 

                                         quelle somnolence !

                                         innodant les pages

                                         le soleil indien

 

                                                        *

 

                                             je me souviens

                                       de l'oiseau qui chante

                                          pendant ma sieste

 

                                                         *

 

                                                ça me berce

                                         la courante de la chute

                                          d'eau de la fontaine

 

                                                         *

 

                                           sans touché sa toile

                                             je vois plus claire

                                       l'autre côté de la fenêtre

                                                     

                                                          *

 

                                          bruit de cette gruêpe

                                             a fait disparaitre

                                          le tas de mes mots

 

                                                          *

 

                                             sous le ciel bleu

                                         flamboyant mon mur

                                    de vigne - vierge d'Octobre

 

                                                          *

 

                                            un rouge - gorge

                                       va et vient sur la fenêtre

                                         plic - ploc de la pluie

 

                                                          *

 

                                    " le peuple d'herbe se tait"*

                                            dans ma cuisine

                                          châtaignes grillées

 

                                                         *

 

                                              jardin du curé

                              entre des coriandres et ciboulettes

                                       araignées funambulent

 

 

 

         *  Poème du Mâitre Japonais  - Bashô

 

     


 



                                 

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30 septembre 2014 2 30 /09 /septembre /2014 10:00

 

                                     tournant dans le vide

                                                 le bruit

                                           de lave - linge

 

                                                      *

 

                                                 ça valse

                                      la flamme de la bougie -

                                          fond du verre rouge

 

                                                        *

 

                                            grasse matinée

                                dans les branches du murier-

                                       le soleil du Septembre

 

                                                         *

 

                                        bruit dans les champs -

                                        un bouquet de corneilles

                                          vibrant l'arbe mort

 

                                                          *En savoir plus sur les cookies

 

                                         les avions se croissent -

                                    les chants de moineaux - fous

                                                 enchainent

 

                                                         *

 

                                        cette feuille d'Automne

                                                    a voyagé

                                           d'un livre à l'autre

 

                                                         *

                                                    ******

                                                           *

 

                                                 samedi soir

                                                comme tous

                                                   les autres

 

                                                          *

 

                                                rien du neuf

                                                      stars

                                                   à la télé

 

                                                          *

 

                                               bol d'Ikebana

                                        un bouton de Dalia éclose

                                              l'été est encore là

 

                                                          *

 

                                             tas de bois morts

                                   la mante - religieuse survole

                                        jeunes pieds d'artichaut

 

                                                          *

 

                                              fruits de rosiers

                                           le bruit de sécateur

                                               et de la pioche

 

                                                          *

 

                                        cherchant les noisettes

                                                  l'écureuil

                                                   est venu

                                                      

                                                          *

                                                     ******

                                                            *

 

                                           flottant dans la brume

                                                     mes oies

                                                    cendrées

 

                                                            *

 

                                                fin de la soirée 

                                         les fleurs de topinambours

                                                brillent encore

 

                                                             *

 

                                              le concert d'oiseaux

                                             justqu'à ma chambre

                                         une mésange suit d'autre

 

                                                             *

 

                                              glissant à la surface

                                        d'eau là où le ciel et la terre

                                               quelques cousins

 

                                                             *

 

                                           dans mon réfrigérateur

                                          une épaulette de sanglier

                                              de voisin du chasse

 

                                                              *

 

                                                            Riz

                                          " Jardin de Sud - Ouest "

                                            fraises comme dessert

                                                                

                                                              *

 

 

 

                                                   


                                                  


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26 septembre 2014 5 26 /09 /septembre /2014 23:49

  

                                       coin de la fenêtre

                                    sur la toile - les petites

                                         notes de la nuit

 

                                                      *

 

                                      portant sous ses ailes

                                         l'oiseau s'envole

                                        couleur de l'aube

 

                                                     *

 

                                      ouverture de chasse

                                  les cuisses spéciale - offre

                                        ah , quel plaisir !

 

                                                     *

 

                                         au contoir du bar

                                      il cherche sa chance

                                         nez dans la carte

 

                                                     *

 

                                          perdu leur bec

                             dans la mousse , les oies blanches

                                        - gazon matinal

 

                                                     *

 

                                         trôné sur le seuil

                                  une feuille de vigne - vierge

                                         porte sans sonée

 

                                                      *

 

                                          l'heur du coucher

                                  le rouge intense du géranium

                                             le ciel délavé

 

                                                        *

 

                                           la petite araignée

                                       n'a pas perdu le nord

                                             - la toile brille

 

                                                        *

 

                                         dans mon bol du càfé

                                      vide - la peau du banane

                                          ... fin du petit dej'

 

                                                        *

 

                                             repas de DIET

                                    les pigments d'espelettes

                                        remplacent les légumes

 

                                                         *

 

                                            bleu roi le ciel

                                      mon grand càfé noir

                                              tiré d'un trait


 

                                    


                              

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25 septembre 2014 4 25 /09 /septembre /2014 22:21

 

 

                  

                                            Hoa Thúy cúc

                                       Leo tàu lá chuối

                                          ốc sên con

 

 

 

     Rơi rơi lá vàng                                            Dòng sông sương.

 trên trang sách mở .                                      Mơ màng cỏ ướt 

  Tiếng chiều xốn xang                                Tơ nào vương vương

 

 

                    

           Ngòn ngọt gió vườn                         Lặng yên.

         Rung rung tháng Chín                Giăng trên mạng nhện

           Mùa vừa lên hương                      những vì sao đêm

              

                  

 

 

 

 


                                     

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23 septembre 2014 2 23 /09 /septembre /2014 11:59

 

                                 Trời xanh . Mở . Những cung đường

                             Lăn lăn . Con tạo . Diễn tuồng . Trên mây

 

                                                           *

 

                                       Gã nhà thơ . Tìm vận may

                             Ngồi . Cào . Vé số . Vân tay . Đen ngòm

 

                                                            *

 

                                   Ai gieo . Trên cánh đồng truồng

                              Giấc mơ . Sỏi . Đá .Vẫn còn ... run run

 

                                                            *

 

                                   Gió Thu . Nhàu nhĩ .Tiếng chuông

                                Ô hay ! Ta đã " hóa vàng" * nỗi đau 

 

                                                            *

 

                                      Môi mềm thắm giọt trầu cau

                            Hết duyên . Chiều . Mặc áo . Màu của đêm

 

                                                           *

 

                                    Còn duyên . Nước chảy . Đá mềm

                            Hết duyên . Giàn giụa . Bên thềm . Mây mưa

 

                                                            *

 

                                   " Còn duyên kẻ đón người đưa "**

                               Hết duyên còn lại mình ta với mùa .

 

 


 

 *   thơ của Nguyễn Vĩnh Tuyền

 

 **  lấy từ :

 

                             " Còn duyên kẻ đón người đưa

                          Hết duyên đi sớm về trưa mặc lòng "

 

                                   ( Quan họ Bắc Ninh)

                                   


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21 septembre 2014 7 21 /09 /septembre /2014 10:12

 

                                             toile déchirée

                                          les cousins morts

                                      l'orages de Septembre

 

                                                        *

 

                                         l'aiguille de la Lune

                                             les fils de toile

                                            flambant neufs

 

                                                         *

 

                                       enterrent des noisettes

                                        au creux de la pelouse

                                              deux écureuils

 

                                                          *

 

                                          feuilles près feuilles

                                               ils s'éfeuillent

                                                 je ramasse

 

                                                           *

 

                                        sous le chêne tortureux

                                              les cris des oies         

                                     tombent , tombent les glands

                                                           

                                                         


                                   

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18 septembre 2014 4 18 /09 /septembre /2014 09:00

 

                                         moutonneux -

                                     des échos d'avions

                                         dans le ciel

 

                                                  *

 

                                               seule

                                   " Je suis personne"

                                       vient l'Automne

 

                                                   *

 

                                         table du jardin

                              l'ombre du marronnier s'invite

                                     - haricots éqeuetés

 

                                                    *

 

                                       cueillette du mois -

                                dans des légumes et fruits

                                       des feuilles rouges

 

                                                     *

 

                                    sans les mouches vertes

                                           mons haiku a l'air

                                               SMOOTHIE


                                  

                              

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15 septembre 2014 1 15 /09 /septembre /2014 20:41

 

                                               Zenith

                                          la ville désertée

                                            ou presque

                                                  

                                                    *

 

                                         bloquant la route

                                         une pelleteuse et

                                             les hommes

 

                                                      *

 

                                           garé au parking

                                         l'ouvrière déjeune

                                     - sa boite de consevre

 

                                                       *

 

                                        l'odeur de cigarette

                                   devant le super - marché -

                                          un couple d'ados

 

                                                      *

 

                                        d'ombre d'un paneau 

                                     publicitaire - une canette

                                           de coca écrassée

 

                                                       *

 

                                         mon Fuji allumé

                                            chaud chaud

                                              le bouton

 

                                                      *

 

                                           que des étoiles

                                            dans le cardie

                                               en double




                    



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12 septembre 2014 5 12 /09 /septembre /2014 09:42

 

                                         Dalias cactus

                                       allument la fenêtre -

                                      Fête de Mi - Automne

 

                                                    *

 

                                     gardien du couchant

                                           une araignée-

                                                 tigre

 

                                                    *

 

                                  grimper pour les pêches

                                    toujours là le bonheur

                                              d'enfance

 

                                                     *

 

                                          face à la Lune

                                    j'arrose les citronnelles

                                   où sont les moustique ?

 

                                                      *

 

                                     fleurs d'asters mauves

                                   un bébé d'escargot monte

                                     la feuille de banane

 

                                                     *

 

                                         soirée foot - ball

                                       ma victoire du jour -

                                          adieu la mouche !

 

                                                      *

 

                                         les un pointent

                                         les autres passent

                                         ............................

 

                                                       *

 

                                           travers du porc

                                                   cuits -

                                               fin du jour

 

                                                      *

 

                                     flottant dans la rivière

                                                  parmis

                                       les feuilles mortes

 

                                                     *

 

                                        des belles pêches

                                     cueillant par épuisette

                                        de hautes branche

 

                                                     *

 

                                        début d'Automne

                                    ma mère parle de persil

                                       et la langue du Boeuf


                        

                                             



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12 septembre 2014 5 12 /09 /septembre /2014 09:16

 

Tháng Chín trong

                           khu vườn " Mùa

                                                    hè rớt " *  ta

                                                                         chìm trong dòng sông cùng với lá

        vàng... lặng lẽ sủa niềm

                                              vui ...lặng lẽ hót nỗi

                                                                              buồn ... đọc  Olga

Berggoltz ... " Bài thơ cuộc đời "* ... " Chuyện ngày quá khứ"* ... Ta đâu còn

là thiếu

           nữ ... Đi qua mùa hoa vắt

                                                   sang mùa quả...

                                                                         Đào vuờn giờ

                                                                                               chín cũng

ngọt hơn . Ngọt

                        cả niềm vui . Ngọt cả

                                                          nỗi buồn .Ngọt

                                                                                 cả những lối đi về của

gió ... vàng vàng hoa bí ngô xôn 

                                                    xao nở đong

                                                                       đưa môi

                                                                                    mắt trước chiều ...

 

                                                 Ta không có gì

                                                 chôn cũng chẳng hám

                                                 gì đào , lại càng 

                                                 không ngăn được gió " Chạm vào

                                                 cây

                                                 mùa lá rụng " *

 

 * Tựa đề và chi tiết của những bài thơ của Olga Berggoltz

                                                  

                 


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