CAMILLE CLAUDEL: poem & digital collage by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

 

Poème pour Camille Claudel

Il y a toujours quelque chose d’absent qui me tourmente.
― Camille Claudel

 

 

(19 octobre 1943)

 

Nuages denses

corbeaux invisibles

flottants dans le ciel de la Provence

le vent s’enrage

et ouvre des fissures  bleues

petite fille étonnée

seule, tu écoutes la voix du silence

et regardes les grandes flaques

et l’argile brune

cadeau précieux

que la pluie de la nuit

a apporté

pour la dernière fois

dans une lumière irréelle

de cette boue

des créatures étranges

s’animent

caressées

par ta main tremblante

abandonnée à leur vie

c’est alors qu’un calme inconnu

te saisit

et tu souris

infiniment  libre

en ce matin d’octobre

à Montdesvergues

Lidia Chiarelli, Italie

 

Lidia Chiarelli: artiste, écrivain et fondatrice du Mouvement artistique littéraire Image & Poésie http://immaginepoesia.jimdo.com/

Ses poèmes ont obtenu de nombreux prix et ont été traduits et publiés en plusieurs langues.

Poète nommée pour le Prix Pushcart (États-Unis ) 2014, 2015 et 2016.

http://lidiachiarelli.jimdo.com/

“Hiking with Peter”poem by Alex Drummond, “The Road Less Travelled” fine art photo by Adel Gorgy – America

gorgy_theroad_less_traveled

HIKING WITH PETER

        for Peter Thabit Jones, September 17, 2016

 

Boot-shod feet, born and bred south coast of Wales

felt the pulse of Big Sur’s thumping shore,

tapped its  rhythms into poems,

then leaped, with the help of an airplane,

California to Colorado, where I met him

and was glad he was properly shod

to wind with me up among the sandstone fins

south side of Mt. Sanitas,

hiked and jogged by hundreds,

but sure to be people-free I promised Peter

on our descent north, then west, south,

and east from the summit.

 

Hour-long uphill huff and puff

failed to deflate our lungs,

left in fact whole hallways and corridors

of oxygen-filled enthusiasm

to talk poetry halfway from A to Z,

saving the other half for the less steep

meander back down.

 

Peter could pick up from where he left

the Pacific sprawled below his hillside

hermitage at Big Sur by viewing

flat Boulder suckling its own shoreline

steep off Sanitas a thousand feet below our feet.

 

Peter clicked his camera at whatever wonder

first flew into his eye, a young women clicked us

shaking hands by the mountain’s summit pole,

and shy deer on the way down

ambled in and out of focus,

as poets and the ways of poetry

filled our talk, mixed with the scent

of ponderosa pines, the slope of hillsides,

the grass of  meadows, and a certain log

we had to find to find a certain way down

the rest of the world no longer knows.

 

Fine friendly trail companion,

this man Peter, for whom poetry

ties and unties his boot laces

talks to him in his sleep, sometimes

shakes him awake, and showed him yesterday

through his boot soles how to step

from Boulder’s young pink sandstone

to its old grey granite in whatever dance

between the two will add

an audible Colorado ripple

to each new poem  

rising up inside him. 

Alex Drummond     America

 

“Apricot” Poem and Photo by Vatsala Radhakeesoon, Mauritius

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Apricot

Apricot

 

Some friends call her a ginger cat,
Others call her an orange cat,
But for me, she’s simply my favourite pet,
My cute and clever cat
proudly bearing the inspirational fruit’s name Apricot.

Apricot loves to drink cool cow’s milk,
A daily consumption of Canaillou and Whiskas pet food
makes her coat as soft as silk.

Apricot can catch a mouse at one go,
Like human beings she can open the windows,
She plays with the door keys and asks me to let her go
to meet her new friend, the neighbour’s cat Alexo.

Run, run, run in the garden Apricot and Alexo,
They chase the yellow butterflies and brown sparrows,
Fluffy, the grey puppy joins them too,
When the sunset says “Hello”,
Apricot whispers to her friends “Miaow, Miaow, tomorrow”;
She, then rushes home and rests on the cushion turquoise blue.

Sometimes when I feel weary and without zest,
Apricot sits by my feet and let an aura of hope manifest,
Her sweet purrs say softly “ Please, please don’t be upset.”

Vatsala Radhakeesoon


Biography

 

Vatsala Radhakeesoon was born in Mauritius in 1977.

She has had a keen interest in poetry writing and reading since a very young age. Highly encouraged by her mother, a Hindi teacher, she kept on writing. Her poem ‘Loneliness’ was first published in the widely read local newspaper, L’Express in October 1995. Vatsala has participated in poetry conventions and creative writing workshops in Mauritius and U.S.A.

Her first poetry book ‘When Solitude Speaks’ was published on recommendation of the Ministry of Arts and Culture, Mauritius in 2013. That book consists of poems written between the ages of 14 to 35. Her works emphasize on emotional, social, historical and spiritual issues.

Vatsala Radhakeesoon graduated with a MBA degree from Management College of Southern Africa. She is self-employed and continues to write poems in various languages: English , Kreol, French and Hindi. She is currently working on her second poetry book in English.