The Girl in the Violin Jacket

Patiently I waited, shot lined up for her, An unknown lady to stroll into frame, Attractive, alluring, but not to wear a fur of sable, Attired instead in my reflection’s spruce and maple. — Philip Wood

Chaque jour, la lumière se lève

Chaque jour, la lumière se lève Dehors, le monde éternellement J’ai vu ses yeux dans mon rêve Il sait que nous sommes vivants. Reflets dispersés dans les flaques L’univers se regarde dans nos âmes Sans cri, solitude d’insomniaque Vois-le !  toi qui sais comme il t’aime. Chaque jour, la lumière se lève Vois le monde se mirer dans ton âme. — Eleonore Sur

Dough of the dead

Around 1850, entomologist Jean-Henri Fabre called “dough of the dead” the limestone strata of fossilized shells on which we build our cities. It may be thought that, one day, a civilization will flourish on a layer of sediments composed of debris of human beings. A way for our species to move on to posterity. — Sylvain Tesson, A very slight oscillation, p 153.

Our century

« Your problems don’t exist » « Obstacles is the path » « Tomorrow is pure mist » « You never see the past » Breeeeeeathe... Mindfulness is the art of reaching ctrl+alt+del by sewing divergent semantic nature mortes — Eleonore Sur

Forgotten love

Why does age distress you so, you’ve lost your hue you’ve lost your glow When you were new what did you see, lots of friends and company But you have been left to sit and lie, gathering dust slim and grime And now you look a little faded, and possibly a little dated. To me you have a rugged beauty, a tranquility a possibility People looked and wanted you when you were young and you were new, Just like me you feel the strain of never being young again No one stops, no one stares and now it seems no one cares And yet for me there is a difference I’m still loved and someone cares I’m not alone and nor is she for no other love could there ever be So I am sorry for your plight, left alone both day and night I wish you’d found the love I have and then you would not look so sad. — Len Rose

Behind That Smile

For centuries men have often wondered, What lies buried behind “that smile”? Da Vinci saw beyond your skin To what demons may lie tortured within. St Jerome sought to bring women to Jesu’s moral role, "On all sides round horror spread wide; the very silence breathed a terror on my soul" This line from Virgil he’d often quote, On the face of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa his horrors wrote. Now the two fly together amongst the trees Decorating the master’s garden of Loire Testament of true genius , skill and curious mind, Renaissance pioneer leaving mysteries for us to find. — Philip Wood

Un trésor vivant

Il était une fois un vieux rosier, isolé, menacé par le chaos d’un chantier ; Replanté, à l’abri d’un jardin clos, il revit, entouré de simples et de rustiques qui lui font fête. Reconnaissant, l’arbuste remontant offre, deux fois l’an, à tous ses amis des fleurs nacrées tout en beauté harmonieuse et force sereine. Un trésor vivant est caché en ce jardin. — My