– Say it loud.
– Je t’aime
– Louder.
– JE T’AIME
Yes, it can flood your entire life with meaning.
S
(Je t’aime Pillowcase by Louise Bourgeios)
– Say it loud.
– Je t’aime
– Louder.
– JE T’AIME
Yes, it can flood your entire life with meaning.
S
(Je t’aime Pillowcase by Louise Bourgeios)
Three decades have passed
and I have not forgotten
the burden of bliss,
the floral cup, full of miracles,
and the heavenly pomegranate trees.
The wishes that were a heartbeat away
and the era where love was
in the highest cycle;
the past is still hanging there –
implacable yet unbearable.
Three decades (and more) are gone;
the autumn’s beauty still hits me right
and I’m still singing the same dream
in which, “thunder only happens
when it’s raining.”
You asked me where I have been;
I said, why don’t you fly with me?
You stood and stared
like a stoned Roman statue
in the coldness of the hallways.
I flew away and faded in the
white shadows above your head.
Oh yes,
the decades
have flown by
and I,
I’m getting
too hard
to beat,
my
love.
S
Scream out loud(er)
for who fancies you and
only *you* the most.
Leave the world
full of struggles
of lifelong sweethearts;
filled with dark anxieties.
Break its rules;
ignore its punishment
in a matter of time;
ignore the unignorable.
Call for a life – a pure life
and a mind of the unspoken
language of silent.
Bonne chance.
S
Where is the truth, my love?
Between the sky and
the maple tree, changing
colors every second?
Above the white clouds
battling with the sun, stopping
it to set in the horizon?
Or perhaps it lies
beneath the surface
of perfection?
Indeed.
S
There he was, whispering the goddamn song
underneath the grayest roof; the raindrops;
while his only friend was the pick
dancing on the broken strings.
On the opposite side of his voice were
the fakest smiles and a bunch of wannabes
marching on the reddish carpets
lying in curls on the wet soil.
A few blocks down the road was
his lover, cursing the swindlers;
begging for loonies to sum up her whiskey sips,
and refreshing her memories of the lavender fields.
He is on my mind while watching the pacific from up high.
She too is on my mind while sitting
in silver lights, surrounded by the black bows
and hydrangeas; the white and the lilac ones.
What a tiny world!
Him, her and I
are all playing;
playing hard at life;
singing along.
S
Here I am again, reviewing my final movie at the TIFF, 9 days after the festival ended.
Unlike all the French movies I saw at this year’s TIFF and those from previous years, which were typically right to my taste and very *French* in their ambiance, “Love Crime” wasn’t too appealing or special and could be compared to Hollywood thrillers. But hey, Kristin Scott Thomas is one of my all-time favourites and no matter what, I try to see whatever movie comes out with her in it. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but “Love Crime” was definitely not festival material in my eyes.
Good or bad, I’m done with my TIFF reviews. Now back to ‘real’ writing, poetry and all the rest.
S