The Space Within |
To create space , man builds walls up...
But :
the brown sounds of Rembrandt's painting,
the bright colours of J.S. Bach's music,
the melodies of written joy and sorrow,
the dancing steps in some old people's eyes,
the cries and laughter in a word-splashed calligraphy,
all those precious stones are what a man's soul needs
to build up the walls of its space within
Yes, walls,
but not blind walls, walls of war
but walls of light and hope.
And what is more difficult to build up than a wall ?:
an open door for one's neighbour.
( that is my definition of " space" )
Pierre Bordenave
May 2 , 1999 |
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Victory |
I threw flowers of innocence |
The walls tumbled down in a dusty smell of
death, |
the dust turned into sparks of love |
and a tender perfume of Spring |
stood up in place of the fierce architecture. |
Words like smiles, notes like flowers , |
and warmed up the soul of man. |
I painted a palace of hope for you |
to make you forget your words of indifference |
We danced the ever new dance of love again |
and a mild blue sky lightened the gardens
of your eyes. |
Pierre Bordenave
May 14 ,1999 |
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A Dictionary of Sand |
I shall write a dictionary of sand |
I shall collect handfuls of words of sand: |
yellow words from Australia |
and some blue ones from the desert under the
sea. |
Then I shall write them down in a book, |
a huge book like a colorful mountain of grains
of sand; |
and, if the wind does not blow my work away, |
if the ocean does not swallow it, |
I shall build up my house on top, |
with its walls made of dreams |
and its roof made of hope |
Then you will knock on my door ... |
Pierre Bordenave
May 18 , 1999 |
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The Soul of a Dream |
a dream like some words
of innocence written in the sky
a dream like a song of love
in the music of the rain
a dream like some stars of happiness
shining in your eyes
a dream like a touch of tenderness
in your hand on mine
a dream like a moon of complicity
in the light of your smile
a dream like some grains of sand
rolling on your skin
a dream like some tears of joy
falling from my eyes
Pierre Bordenave
September 6 , 2000
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NATURE |
a blackbird chose a tree in my garden |
to sing his morning song. |
Pierre Bordenave
May 16 , 1999 |
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Winter trees & stormy clouds |
I am writing leaves on Winter trees
to forget my cold dark thoughts...
words as leaves
leaves as pages
and trees as mysterious books
of legends and seasons gone...
I am writing a forest of Springtime dreams to come...
Pierre Bordenave
1999 |
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