Joy! This word brings to mind Charles Trenet and immediately we hear her sing in a voice full of up and cheer. "There's a joy / Hello hello swallows / Y of joy ... " Descartes believes, rightly, that" Joy is a pleasant emotion of the soul. "It is in this spirit that I give you to read poems about joy. Classic Victor Hugo Charles Baudelaire , Nereus Beauchemin, Isaac Benserade and a newcomer, Marion Brown, will enchant you by speaking of joy.
It is necessary that the poet must
poet, loving and shade of blue, soft
Spirit and splendid, pure radiation,
Who goes before all, enlightening those who doubt , Singer
that mysterious shuddering listen
Women, thoughtful, wise men, lovers,
Devienne great at certain times.
Sometimes when we start to dream about his book, Where
any lulls, dazzles, calm, caress, intoxicate,
Where the soul at every step just make honey,
Where the darkest corners were glimmers of heaven
the midst of this humble and high poetry,
In that sacred peace which believes the flower chosen
Where means and flow sources crying,
Where the stanzas, birds painted foliage,
Fly singing love, hope and joy ,
must at times you shiver, and that means
Suddenly, dark , grave and terrible at passing
A fawn to come forward with a roar!
must seed the poet as prolific
Let these green forests, fresh, deep,
Full of songs, love the wind and the radius,
Charming, where suddenly you encounter a lion.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
The contemplations
Semper eadem
"Where do you get, you say, this strange sadness,
amount as the sea on the black rock and bare
- When our heart has once its vintage
Living is an evil. It is a secret known to all,
pain very simple and not mysterious
And as your happy, bright for all.
So stop searching, oh beautiful curious!
And, although your voice is sweet, hush!
Shut up, ignorant! always happy soul!
Mouth childish laughter! Even more than the Life, Death
keeps us often subtle links.
Leave, leave my heart a drunk lying
Diving into your eyes like a beautiful dream, And slumber long
in the shade of your lashes!
Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)
The flowers of evil
branch of service tree singing
I totally unlearned
The lullaby pace floating
Qu'effeuille by evening breeze,
branch of service tree singing. From a twig
breath Balance,
The miraculous song
In memory of my childhood,
communicated its thrill.
music in the air, without rhyme,
Snow in my dream, and often,
I try to note what is expressed
Song of the leaf and wind.
I wait for the breeze resume
rating which quivers a sweet past
For my heart, despite his sentence
One day, an hour or rocked.
No I do echo the returns,
The lullaby the other day,
Neither the hills of joy,
Neither the hills of love.
The wind industry is dead And
mysterious rhythms
That wind sighing at my door,
swell the heart, eyes wet.
The poet of melancholy
Weep no longer child
To hear your song pretty
O branch of service tree singing!
Nereus Beauchemin (1850-1931)
Homeland intimate
-> Right photo. A service tree (kind of mountain ash) white.
Sonnet
Madam, I give you a bird to carol
which one can not estimate the value;
If you just some boredom, illness or pain,
You will suddenly at ease healthy and well. It is
stomach ache, colic or headache
it can heal, but all he has the happiness That
cons of the accident the pale color
He wears avecque drug itself sovereign.
A lady saw it in my hand the other day
Who said it was a parrot of love And
therefore offered me many coin
Some other parrots it differs, however:
For they fled the cage, and he loves it so much
it is never made it not weep for joy.
Benserade Isaac (1613-1691)
Madam, I give you a bird to carol
-> Painting right. Lady with parrot, Van Veen Otto
} {
In his first collection of poetry entitled "I run after the joy," Marion Brown asked about the joy in these words:
" Joy is presumed guilty. The charges are: the futility, stupidity or cruelty. The first is to investigate. Who is she? Where is she? How does it operate? Why does it change of faces? Where to find joy? Does it act alone? As a courtship, the poetic pursuit we capture a few threads: those words, those a game of seduction, that of joy itself. "
" Joy is presumed guilty. The charges are: the futility, stupidity or cruelty. The first is to investigate. Who is she? Where is she? How does it operate? Why does it change of faces? Where to find joy? Does it act alone? As a courtship, the poetic pursuit we capture a few threads: those words, those a game of seduction, that of joy itself. "
His poetry is the fruit of the images, smells, impressions brought back from his distant travels and escapades in the heart of the Cevennes it cherishes. Cévennes, this land also dear to the heart of Raymond Depardon, which I saw and reviewed the beautiful and touching film "Modern Times", which I mentioned here on Littéranaute ( note of 24 September 2099).
Here are two poems by Marion Brown
Sometimes, the abundance of twelve strokes
No longer only the announcement of the clearest day.
Panic crack the earth.
In a thud, a chasm opens. By risking
of them look, there's nothing:
Neither the beams that will ring soon and good,
Neither nostalgic shadows adorn the
neon lights.
The soothing pallor of the morning is spent in darkness
.
Then a moment later, midi sounds,
headlights light up,
Ghosts wan exult,
trees on mine are like pantomimes
dancing,
Beauty torn smiling under his eye, laughing. And the laughter
blind agony,
Depths true, the real flaws.
Marion Brown
Midi, you are slow and long bitterness of awakening where
flies suffocate
The end of the sweet jest, tumult Glitter,
soaked sheets,
You're an hour away sweats in the morning and
laughter that burst to break.
You're after, the flight of the night away to infinity.
Midi, you are then the evidence of profound joy mature
When you sit between columns a cloister
And in a moment all the peace concluded.
When the explosion of victory barbaric
Becomes acquiescence of a pagan sky.
Marion Brown
I wish you a beautiful and happy Sunday!
Better yet, "the inner joy, a joy so deep that nothing can alter the"
(Bernanos)
__
Marion Brown, joy I run after . Poetry. L'Harmattan, 2008, 34 pages. Both extracts were obtained from Google Books . You can read two more by clicking here .