Category: poetry


Today, I have decided to post a poem that I wrote in 2004.  It was originally in French and came third in a competition whose theme was “friendship”.  I subsequently translated it into English and re-worked it a bit.  The second version was published in an anthology in the United States of America in 2006.

I have typed the French version, printed it, added the accents, scanned it and inserted it below.  The English version is underneath the French one.

Its French title was “La Consolatrice”.  I have changed the title in English.

I prefer the French version of this poem because it is more sensual and suits the subject better.

The English version was baptized a “prose-poem” by an American expert.  It was the first time that I had ever heard of this style of poetry.




Sleek, supple, black coat shining,

She steps gracefully across the Chinese rug,

Skirts a floor-cushion, then pauses near the sofa,

Her green eyes anxious, questioning.


The seated man holds an opened letter in his left hand.

His stunned gaze travels around the sun-drenched room,

Seeking something … or someone.

She can feel his suffering.  It worries her.


Spicy perfume, from yellow roses on the coffee table,

Tickles her nose.  She sneezes.

The man extends an approximate hand.

She moves closer, meeting his caress.


The man speaks.  She doesn’t understand the words

But leaps lightly onto his lap.  He takes her in his arms,

Lays his cheek against her velvet head.

A salty drop, landing on her tiny nose, startles her.

She tastes it, then snuggles down and starts to purr.



Haiku in the night

I don’t know whether it was the Moon, the transit of Venus across the Sun, or that enormous block of chocolate that I ate before going to bed but, in the early hours of the morning, I was harassed by four haiku.  This meant that I had to climb out of bed in the freezing cold, find a notebook, hurry back to bed, try to remember them all, write them down, turn off the light again and wait to warm up before going back to sleep.

With the aim of spreading the joy around a bit, I’ve posted two of them here:

That blog had been sleeping for around eighteen months, so it was rather surprised to be woken.

Well, I don’t see why I should be the only one to be deprived of sleep.

Here are the other two:


Tornado winds shake

The house, billow the curtains

And rattle the glass.


Haiku in the night

Shuffle and weave captured words

While wind prevents sleep.


As you can see, things were rough.  Everything’s calmed down now.  Thank Heaven!

There is just one thing that I don’t understand:  the night in question was the one before last, so why did the haiku strike twenty-four hours later?

My mind works in mysterious ways.  Or is that God?  Sleep deprivation tends to muddle me.

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