- Poems 2015 by country (selected by the judges)
- Contemplation poétique
- Paul ÉLUARD : poèmes, biographie, oeuvres et recueils
- Les Quatre Saisons De Ronsard
- Quand l'amour déraille
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Poems 2015 by country (selected by the judges)
I would like to thank the young model who has lent all her beauty, romantic and sensitive, to the poems, as well as the very talented photographers Marie Thouvenin and eva neuville who captured these moments or. An infinite thank you to the man of my life and to swami Roberto, without whom this book would not be born.
The lipstick to symbolize the kisses exchanged. Very nice surprise this morning An honor for this book that passion had been born, and who witnessed the evolution of love resulting in the birth of my daughter born of this love. I also thank my publisher stellamaris, model eva leroux and photographers eva neuville and Marie Thouvenin. Let's share poetry, which is not only ballet of words but also way to live and share in beauty. Today I publish a different poem that wants to be engaged: School harassment is a scourge that suffers a child in ten, sometimes until suicide.
Recently a young eleven-Year-old girl died, hanged in her room by the accumulation of a daily wickedness. Education should also be convey the movement of love, benevolence A trip to the sun This is what you propose to me sweet love How many times have i been burned by your splendor And the silk of your hands so firm?
I will still be bored in the singing of your heat She is blessed the one who makes us think as in childhood Let the summer have come! With a crowd of dreams and promises that are rushing to his feet With the boiling will to share an enchantment May nature hold between its white arms And on the golden hills of his butt Like to bounce the feeling Alive of an eternity! And the serious and stressed buzzing of the world Who never flies away Is so drowned under the tropical waters of life Who wakes up like never in the without background potential of a heart!
All the hair of Gaia can regenerate From corals to algae passing by the feathers of the swans And the innocent dusters that if in tufts Close to calm and clear waters like caresses In The Hollow of the hips of true love When the spirit is progressing majestic In his orange satin toga Offering yourself as an infinite fruit and the tree that supports! It's because it was the white moon That you brought me to such a silky and lively drunkenness!
Like in the arms of a incandescent dance In the middle of the world, always more bewitching Like the cry of love that triumphs over our hips Of like huge waves! There was a jewel in our fiery fronts I collected them, Diamond Stars In croissant in oval or in a fulfilled ring Because of your arms propelled from the sky They touched my heart from their long hot songs Who would love me like the purest fountains Those moons that unite us and drink Like the immaculate blood of cosmic love Like a photophore without limit in the ocean of darkness Illuminating our eyelids like lily petals Like a necklace of pearls between our infinite souls Making us see beyond the curtains of eternity beautiful!
In his house without ceiling is sharing The sweet and sacred bread that feeds Always differently our subtle bodies, our ideas Better than an intoxicating ice cream with natural aromas Vanilla or hazelnut milk Playing in the sensual fantasy of the summer! Eternity, universal lover making the moon The Sparkling Skin of his face without shadow Drinking all the pain for the consumer Between its billions of feathers diaphanous, Like the bird of freedom that can go the highest Took me out of my nakedness and my red dress Bright lace like my heart wanted Of all its forces this color of supreme passion What have taken the most beautiful roses and the blood of Christ!
It is also a pleasure for me to discover such beautiful texts on Facebook. Photo: Model Eva Leroux, what a splendid emotion!
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When I look at the poppies fields Lush of aureoles scarlet I tell myself that my God Is a passionate! Just like I felt my man's heart Filled with his fire! I want to be like water Crystalline, fluid and humble Drink my family of the sacred that I draw In this chest in flames Blue I want to touch the curtain of light Who shoots all the illusions born Successes or misses So that like a star dancer Always appear my immaculate faith Oh Madre, All that courage, all that strength Which we need to defeat evil Lurking constantly with souls Offer them to us again as in the middle of the desert A Mint Tea!
How soothing the heavens are Who enter the windows of my brain To shake the shutters! All these patterns and these skewed disappointments, These disappointments of the moment that sometimes Asleep so much Are drunk by your morning! Oh infallible divine love! Gathered with all my flaws I'm here to resurrect again At your feet of gold and breath! I really like the symbols in poetry, here for example mint is present, symbolizing an antidote, an anti-poison; I like the side warming and refreshing both mint tea, and how good they are these teas bus in Africa, what a delight and what a conviviality!
The Blue as to it symbolizes for me the sky, the sea, the melancholy, eternity, and linked to the fire the incandescent, all this at a time. Photo: if you don't like it, you will be able to contemplate the beauty so deep of this beautiful woman. Chronicle adventure and mystic of life, in Siberia! Ydyk-ok sacred arrow, by Nicolas Wallart, called me, I gave up to the desire to discover it and I am happy to be able to recommend it. Writing combines simplicity with the originality and eloquence of the soul.
Paul ÉLUARD : poèmes, biographie, oeuvres et recueils
It is devoid of any claim and of any fireworks, it is similar to the water that will quench to quench us with entertainment on the steps of the sacred. From the first pages I was surprised by the quality of the novel, its realism, its imagination, these feelings of surprise and obvious that they were were both in me. I found the voice of a universal soul in the background of canvas, I felt intrigued by the author and by his other works. This novel seemed to have found its place perfectly in my hands, and at the same time bring me a great novelty: the immersion in a culture and an unknown reality, those of the people of the Siberian people, from Siberia.
I wondered how the author could make these last without being a native or a traveler from these distant lands, with so many details and this ease to talk about life in such a alive and spontaneous movement. However, it is only at the end that I have been aware of the magnitude of the beauty of this meditation, which had been woven over the adventures. After all the preparation that the story had sown in me, at the reading of the last page I opened my eyes on a cry of sweetness: that of love, transcendent all beliefs and differences, overcoming violence and hardships of Life, as well as the limits of the a priori, to be the miracle that it is and that opens the path of evolution, hope and infinite courage.
Les Quatre Saisons De Ronsard
This book that me me and taught me also made me under a new facet of a beauty to breathtaking a message that is dear to me: the one of salvation that is the purity of love. This reading will remain a memory that is dear to me, and many people would win to read this story too. The poem where she admirably describes her pregnant woman's body Marine smiles at love, divine value for her, and it feels good in this landscape of cynical and jaded people that we know today. A reading that does good! Thank you! Continue Reading. Chronicle Romanian poems whose translation awakens the beauty of the French language!
Discover the Romanian authors of the collection "hello tenderness" - ion toanta, Dragos Niculescu, Alice Puiu, Dan Vita, Tudor Gheorghe Calotescu and amalia achard - was for me a huge pleasure! I had for the first time open the windows of my mind to the universe of Romanian poetry by discovering ionut caragea, and thanks to the editions editions I was able to pursue my enchanting journey of reader of Romanian poems, which surprised me a thousand times!
This collection whose composition was arranged by Amalia Achard, the translator also author, features excellent poets that complement each other in a work comparable to a precious stone of contemporary literature, each bringing the facet that surprises and touches, within From an infinitely controlled word. This winged literature coming from Romania is brilliantly translated by Amalia Achard, the translation does not seem to take it off, so much that I have been asked over the reading many times this question: " how did the translator achieve it? Make this fluid radiation of the worms with so many rhymes found?
Each author is presented before the selected sample of his poetry, and the very different personalities offer a rich fan in the collection, mixing very varied female and masculine voices where we can however recognize a certain air of homeland. I have liked the visions of the daily life of ion toanta, the tenderness of tenderness of dragos niculescu, the love and cosmic philosophy of Alice Puiu, the wild and mystical erotic of Dan Vita, the thought in infinite flights of Tudor Gheorghe Calotescu, the voice Thirsty for purity of Amalia Achard, and it should be of course to say more.
Every author finds his place with obvious, surprising the reader as by the poetic flora of a garden composed by the genius.
Quand l'amour déraille
Vocabulary is so rich, surprising, full, and yet poems fly with spontaneity - and I would like to highlight this so important point that is missing far too often in French contemporary literature - with a true meaning of the sacred. Combining a real literary density with the shape and the background to such a mystical lightness is a great gift, of an out-of-standard sensitivity. I can only salute the literary development of these authors and the initiative with a colossal and sumptuous work by Amalia Achard, a poetess poet who is a child who is all child and is made to drink and wash this world.
A poem I chose, from dragos niculescu, although it is no longer season. Winter night Since the night has just fallen And that outside it snow fluffy, Light a fireplace fire And Let's look, both, silent. Let's just hear the crackling From a heart of yule log Covering the sinister groan From a snowy mountain wolf.
Let me put my head on your knees And Let's stay wise as two children, That I caress your hair ends Until you get bored, dream. Let's look at fire like in an ice cream