Apiece Apiece

Dearest Mother, I cry tonight,

for I miss you with all my might.

Plucked by my restless feet from where I was born,

I was not sent but I chose to run.

The thread that ties me to you is pulled, strung,

painfully stretched but never torn.

A faraway song calls to me,

above the sky, leaping through the sea.

Singing louder until I reach

your outstretched hand upon the beach.

Mamá, did you cry?

When you and your mother

bid each other goodbye?

And mamá, did you still feel pain?

The second, third, and fourth

time, and time again?

I might be closer
than you are to a child, but,

Dear Mother,
I cried tonight.

Greenhorn

I'm green and fresh and vegetable.

I've grown but still am, never done.

Don't expect me to know what the tree knows,

don't expect me to understand what it's felt.

When I've yet to bloom any flower,

And still reek of a chlorophyll smell.

Don't ask me to know where the wind goes,

don't ask me to tell what it's seen.

I've yet to be faced by true winter, 

not yet become bistre just green.

Do not expect me to have known,

the answer that hasn't yet seen my head.

For the night-blooming jasmine's response
filled me with nothing but dread.

Lapine, non.

New God of the Rising Sun I: Demeter

Arise! Awaken!

Lady, the earth has shaken!

The earth split, ripe
fruit beneath my feet.

As demeter watched upon
pomegranates, I watched upon sweet

Eyes which only then turned to look,
once at the closer, available, unripe fruit.

Rise! Awaken!

Lady, the thunder's stricken!

A child chasing a crow,
prey bird praying to be preyed upon.
Song to coo to caw.

The wind cold and heavy,

the breath sick and sad.

The ribs giving way to the un-derstand.

Escaping from the kind grasp that I must bite
 through, for I cannot stand.

Then I rose, awakened.
For the Lady my the earth had shaken.

Je Te Veux

Si tu as compris ma détresse:

Arrêtez, chère amoureuse.

Si tu as compris mon désarroi:

S'il vous plaît, cesse.

Don't raise my hopes with such foul play,

your constant praise that makes me ripple.

Don't leave me in such disarray,

with sweet words you think so simple.

Don't speak to me with that sweet voice

that you speak with to all these people,

because my I cannot handle the joys,

and such lies shall leave me crippled.

I cannot hide I am a fool,

and playfully flirt or laugh,

when you dare call me beautiful

and call her too, so unabashed.

Do you call someone else so charming?

Or are your compliments only mine?

I find your manner quite disarming,

and want to hear it all the time.

I know now the stomach was lies,

for my chest is the nest of butterflies.

Je te veux.

Cutlery Waltz

I ask you, fill up my heart.

As a teacup, to the brim.

Camomille, rooibos, chai,

Just two sugars and no milk.

I want to fill up my heart,

but all I do is burn my tongue.

My premonition is, perchance,

that I feel things so out of tone?

I want you to fill up my heart.

I want to fill my heart with you.

But when you link your hand and mine

I feel so sick it all will spew.

I want you to fill up my heart,

but I'm no cup, held by no saucer.

And if it were to be filled up,
it all would spill and spell disaster.

– - Lapinon, non. - –

You Know, Today

You know, today

it was my name you called.

I believed you'd forgot it,

but instead you recalled!

You know, today

I heard your name.

The name that once

had no surname.

You know, today

I wish I had spoken more.

I wish I had seized the chance

to hear the voice that I adore.

You know, today...

No, I'm sure you don't.

That I am shy even

when it seems I am not.

You know, today

I wish you'd known

that I want to take in any

detail of how you shone.

Today, I know

I am heliotrope.

Turning my face to the sun,

a childish need to run.

– -Leur Lapine- –

God of the Rising Sun: Apollon

My cherishing your face

gives me nothing but malaise!

The charming crinkle in your eye...

My heart feels like it may die!

The taste of it is alkaline,

for I never gave you a piece of my mind.

Even if my condition is Pygmaline,

the illusion built will not be fine!

You're bright and fresh, unpolished,

Apollo of sunshine strides.

The way I've been astonished,

found the way to stir my pride.

Once my own appreciation

was my source of reverie.

But this brand new adoration,

hopes instead you'll look at me.

How is is that by mere sunshine,

the narcissus-filled riverbank

became meek, shy, Helianthus,

charmed by you to the bone.

– - Leur Lapine- –

Today, it is my birthday.

7:30 PM

I'm going to be seventeen in thirty minutes.

Or will I have just completed my seventeenth year?

In twenty nine I hear the ticking,

but I can't hear the minuet.

At twenty five I feel my feet,

they tap as I begin to hum.

In twenty minutes I'll be older,

and the orchestra directs the time.

In his hand the baton is ticking,

and now the tenth minute arrives.

Dressed in black tie, the busybody.

The crescendo begins to rise!

I took to long to look at him,

and as I write the man yells "five!".

In 60 seconds the piece is ending,

but the next concert shall begin.

"Eighteen's too soon!" says the third second,

The second one has not yet arrived,

the first second tells me now to focus,

and the bell shall quiet all my grime!

Happy birthday.

Leur Lapine

8:01 PM

Design 11 – 15 Lolita Designs in April Challenge

Bonjour, mes filles et fils!

Today's design is a mix of a quickly out together illustration, and just as quickly put together poem. The poem was actually drafted in French, since I was inspired during French class by the word baladeur. It was not quite beautiful, since my French is sort of childishly limited, so I took quite a lot of liberties when translating.

I will repeat myself: I am nor a writer, nor a poet (I, hopefully, am a "painter"). I still do hope you can enjoy this just as I do. Think of cornflower, rain, and Paris mornings.

Le Problème des Promeneurs

The problem of passerby's:
I know not,
I know you know.

Lie down the lies:
Foot on leg, tie a knot,
Brain burnout, in a row.

Hands, hearts, brains, 
won't last.

Pass-by the remains
of the past.

They walk too fast,
They think too strong,

Feet, brains, aghast.
When was it wrong?

To know, I wish not.
You know I know.

A wanderer's problem
To remain alone.