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Sheet white   Blank page  or The murdered poet.

She empties of words.

Shaken, she leaves adrift.


His rudder breaks.

The thought of the poet is murdered.

His memory remains sealed.

Tears fall on his breast.

His moose is blind.

His page is inexorably empty.

Sheet always white.

Verbs anchored in the middle of his soul.

Remain prostrés.

Bitter potion, Winters of its sadness.

The page is in distress.

Which weather vane will direct its running.

His knowledge is vain.

His work is empty

Writing remains invisible, translucent.

The doors of his heart tear away.

Dispersal of the fragments of the spirit

Poet researcher of the silence

Achieves full Noon of his twilight.

The winds of the sky dance.

His sheet flies away every white.

She is sculptured in her own resemblance.

Blank page contorted confusion.

The life does not go behind.

The blank page lingers with yesterday.

The words fall again in rain, verbs in thunderstorm.

Tomorrow poet will weave the page.

With the sons of his heart.

Nothing can prevent him from singing.

New page walks on paths.

Immortal perpetuity.





Tag(s) : #Poemes Slam de la vie

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