Le Chômeur et Sa Guitare: Poem

Jérome Iber

Nous avons appris le décès de Jérôme par sa mère. Nous sommes trés touchés pas cette nouvelle. C'était donc son dernier été, jouant de la guitare avec ce talent, sous le soleil. Que son âme repose en paix.

Suit un poème écrit par sa maman:

Le Chômeur et Sa Guitare

.

Sous la voûte du ciel étoilé
Son bon coeur est par la nuit étouffé
Seul, solidaire plein d'amertume, sans illusions
Il cherche dans l'ombre à chanter ses chansons
Ho, sa guitare ! Son amie, sa seule joie
Accompagne en sourdine son désarroi
Sonne, sonne sa guitare ! Toi qui ignore sa poisse
Que ta mélodie résonne, pour étouffer son angoisse
Tu es la seule chose qui actuellement remplace
L'amour, l'emploi que la recherche à force l'agace
Car il a beau se précipiter et écrire aux offres d'emploi
La réponse est toujours pareille chaque fois
Avons bien noté votre adresse, nous vous écrirons
Mais la réponse espérée, jamais nous la recevons
Aujourd'hui, il n'a plus besoin de chercher du travail
Il est parti en me laissant en larmes
Si seulement il avait joué son flamenco
Au liu de partir chez les gadjos
Parler, moi de lui j'ai besoin d'entendre son prénom
Alors ne détournez pas la conversation
Je ne serai jamais guérie
Il n'y a pas de remède contre cette maladie
Maladie qui s'appelle chagrin
Et qui est devenu mon destin

LA MAMAN DE JEROME

copyright: la maman de Jérôme

We learnt about Jérome's death from his mother. We were very saddened by this news, and touched that she wrote to tell us about it. That was his last summer, then, playing his guitar with such talent, under the sun. May his soul rest in peace.

http://ranishobha.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

The Man Without Work And His Guitar

(translation from the French by Rani Turton)

Under the vault of the starry sky
His gentle heart is by the night suffocated
Alone, all alone full of bitterness, without illusions
He looks in the shadows to sing his songs
Ho, his guitar! His friend, his only joy
Accompanies on the quiet his confusion
Sound, sound his guitar! You who ignores his misfortune
Let your melody resound, to suppress his fear
You are the only thing which at present replaces
The love, the work that searching for exhausted
Because he may hurry and write for job offers
The answer is still the same every time
Noted well your address, we shall write
But the hoped –for answer, we never received
Today, he does not need to look for work anymore
He left leaving me in tears
If only he had played his flamenco

Instead of leaving for the gadjos
Speak to me of him I need to hear his name
Then do not divert the conversation
I shall never be cured
There is no remedy against this disease
Disease which is called despair
And which has become my destiny

JÉROME’S MOTHER

Copyright: Jerome’s Mother

http://ranishobha.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

Hail to the snail

This bright snail decided to climb a fence just to see what lay the other side. Maybe it would been easier just to crawl under? Sweet little creature!

Martin Luther King's Day

Martin Luther King's Day

Life comes full circle.
All of your battles have not been in vain.
The man with the heart of a sixty year old, worn out by passion
Struggle and rhetoric
Today you live on, in another epoch.

Of all nations and races
Take this time to remember
How to live with your neighbour
Build another legend, build another story
The history-in-the-making time has come around.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Mysteries: Poem

Mysteries

There is a mystery in living

When, how, for how long and why

No need to use complicated rhetorical arguments

The devil's advocate I can play indeed

But the end is always the same

Its almost as if our lifespans are a timed game

We can hop from land to land

For reasons only we can understand

We can lament and weep

Until at the end we finally sleep

To sleep perchance to dream

As a great poet once wrote

In lifespans, life's cycles, in moments of oblivion

I even forgot all that I wrote

The great mystery was not action or living

The great question was extinction and annihilation

To come back to the essential

I, Me and Myself

My small insignificant life

Could I even presume to be remembered

After the third generation, the fourth maybe?

And what was it's essentiality?

Wicks flame, flicker and glow

That is finally the way I will go.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Tree in the Wind: Poem

Tree in the Wind

.

Buffeted by the wind, tossing and turning

Recklessly striving to hold ground

Existing, resisting, persisting:

The choice is to stand tall

Or fall.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Obama Has A Strange Name They Say

Obama Has A Strange Name They Say

Obama has a strange name they say

But then so do I

Strange for here but not for there

Stranger and stranger as the world becomes

Freer and freer, no frontiers

Depending for whom

Depending for where.

Travellers we are all: nomads in this world

That keeps contracting and still

Strangers remain strangers and worse

Foreignors remain strangers on

Shores that remain devoid of warmth.

What is foreign? Coming from which shores

And arriving where? Are foreignors strange because

They have strange names

Or do they act strange? A strange kind of modernity dictates

That everyone looks and speaks alike

Devoid of accent, devoid of strange words

That's how it is and now Obama with his strange name

And me with mine: we have associations to the past

To some far-off land; stranger I am still

My hair, like Obama's, says where I come from.

My eyes, like Obama's, say where I come from.

My skin, like Obama's speaks louder than words.

I am the sum of all that came before.

My strangeness is just that:

I brought a slice of the world with me when I came.

Copyright: 2008 Rani Turton

Cat In A Hurry

Kitty on an inspection tour...
















Why not a cuddle while we're about it?















oh! I have an appointment! Must run or I'll be late!

Life As We Know It : poem by Jeff Baker

Life As We Know It...

life as we know it is good
our earth runs just as it should
we can help it along
by joining her song
and not chopping all of her wood
see forests are very much needed
so our oxygen won't be depleted
not to mention the rain
and the carbon exchange
helps keep her from getting too heated
if you think i am being dramatic
the earth could run on automatic
but we were given the chance
to share in god's plans
which i think is quite democratic
life as we know it is good
free will says i will chop her wood
but free will is free
not so for a tree
but then trees wouldn't do what we would


-- jb / copyright: jeff baker


http://jeffbakertalks.blogspot.com/

When I read this very inspiring poem by Jeff, I was struck by it's aspirations and poetic melody. The last four lines sum up the beauty of this poem. Thank you, Jeff, for allowing me to use this poem in this blog.

Majestic Cat

This lovely cat was wondering what I was doing near her gate. Was I passing by, or going to visit? Notice the intent look, the regal pose. Yes, Kitty, you are definitely the queen of all you survey.

The Setting Sun

Someday we will all learn to live together in peace and harmony