Souvenirs de vacances

Premiers flocons ce matin.  Ah, les souvenirs de vacances semblent déjà si loin...Et pourtant!  C'était hier que nous prenions un bain de soleil sur notre terrasse en sirotant un bon blanc frais.
Coup d'oeil sur mon album photo:

Dans le tiroir à poèmes

Trois-Rivières est une ville de contradictions.  Entre les cheminées de ses papetières crachant avec lassitude une fumée ocre, il y a un festival qui fleurit curieusement à l'automne: la poésie.
Ronds de jambes avec les mots, griffures mordorées des poètes transis de tragédies, soirées doucereuses où sont célébrées des messes d'esprit.  La poésie part en cavale dans les cafés, bistrots, troquets...J'ai moi-même déclamé quelques vers saugrenus d'un clown inoubliable, Sol.  C'était "stradinaire".

En fouillant dans mon propre tiroir à poèmes et j'ai retrouvé quelques écrits.  Des strophes tragiques sur le mal de vivre....Quelle agonie que d'avoir 20 ans!  Mais j'ai tout de même laissé échapper des envolées moins saignantes.  J'écrivais alors en anglais....C'était ma phase anglo dans les cantons de l'est.

The love letter

I got a letter
Smudged with the passion 
Of a mysterious lover.

The blue sheet of paper
Had been ardently sprinkled
with a million bits of his furor.

The way he had poured all those words!
Dripping with lust, loaded with devotion...
Words of an impetuous Romeo!

His fierce infatuation had an endless tone:
"Forever, forever, forever, my delicate fairy".
I could almost feel those forevers
Blown in the hollow of my nape.

His impassioned speech
Was like a symphony
Exhalting my own beauty.

He had blurred love
Into a sublime literary arabesque!
He was a master!

A master whose name
Unfortunately happened to be
"Your devoted admirer"...

(23 octobre 1985)


Letter to my english teacher

"Tranquil as an apple" was the poetic expression
Which fascinated you the most
And I have always wondered
If this rather pure and simple simile
Happened to be the almighty principle governing your life.

And that coffee cup with the naive landscape painted on it...
Have you ever indulged yourself a reverie
In which you were a glittering fairy
Walking on a corning ware path through the green pastures?

What king of thoughts
Blossom under these soft curly locks
That throw a faint shadow over your jolly forehead?

Instead of doodling my boredom away,
I keep rummaging through my mind 
And growing an infinite number of queries.
That's why I have been wondering about you
And your dreams.
I have been wondering so many times if you were like me.

Miss, are you like me?
A woman struggling to be a woman
With the social imperatives gnawing at your bones,
Having to comply to the dazzling-shrewd-and-thin ideal?

This damned didactic world!
It forces you to stuff yourself with nothing but your will
To become the unattainable woman of the eighties
While psychiatrists
Sleep on a full belly.

(6 décembre 1985)


Politicians

A refined race of liars
With a mouthful of words...
Contemporary gladiators
Risking life and dignity
For the sake of a colour:
Red, blue, green
Spin the wheel
Or read the results
Of the last Gallup poll.
You may even vote!
We do need someone
To keep up the sophisticated illusions.
We do need someone
To mail the bill.

(5 décembre 1985)