Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

walking through the paths of the dreams, the reality of the right now, it melts into a magic joy costumed in the splendid power of stellar dust fine pigmented with the stolen moments out of a poem identifying my soul as being a medicament, an appetizer, the scent of some color, even some suffering for lust, a sweet sound comparable with the hymn of the fantasies walking through the paths of the dreams, a touch of the sun dawn, and of the moonbeam, with the mysterious realm of the night, and the grandeur of the day offered to my spirit the gifted tone of a key directed by the mystic air of a drunken smile unable to give anything else except, appreciation hidden in a tiny story about love and glory

She's sad. He is not. Both alone.  She knows what He's gonna do for He's flexed slightly over her. Softly, She began to tremble, — — I'm scared, — She whispered.  — It's nothing to fear, — He said, & swiftly he extracted her tooth.

i don't ask much just one night with you, every day

— Doctor, I don't feel well, in fact, I don't know what I have. When I'm walking, I feel a kind of pain, don't know where it is but goes away suddenly, without knowing why. — Okay, let me give you a prescription for, said, the doctor. So, take a... don't know what medicament for don't know how long and don't know how many per day, and you gonna feel much better (dunno when...). « Après 50 ans, on reçoit plein des roses : sclé roses , arth roses , ostéopo roses , név roses . Pour toutes ces roses , il y a un remède.🥂 Donc pas de panique. C’est pas grave. »😉 “ YA trop d’bruits Pour penser à ma vie Pour changer mes habitudes J’vais marcher Pour changer mes idées Ma peur de la solitude C’est pas grave s’il n’y a personne pour m’écouter J’vais chanter pour les oiseaux Si tout l’monde a les oreilles bouchées J’vais crier pour m’amuser YA trop d’bruits J’m’entends plus chanter J’vais faire comme d’habitude Comme chez moi Ou au milieu du bois J’vais chanter ma ...

last night, — at the hour when all the dreams are ripened, i dreamt about you... suddenly, — i realized that one of my flaws is your absence... don't know how, but... my fantasy's muse, hearing me, replied, — right back atcha... Right Back Atcha by Dave Keller

I let my mind be caught and decorated in a story portrayed in the colored sound of your fairyland well expressed in the language of lavender flowers trained to whisper tenderly and to wear my name in the fragranced echo of your velvety thoughts, you,   magnificent deity, the magician of my love who let self abandoned in my sweet drunkenness

As a darling of fate, the fantasy is wandering in all my colors depicted in the kiss of zenith, painted by the sunset's brush and the smile of the sunrise for Icarus' dream to get down amid love's books and longing for desires and the purity of trust above the sky and sea, meditating in a melody for being clement with those who offers a love story by sympathizing and feeling what could be too simple or forbidden for some, could be too much or not sufficiently enough for others.

a woman went to a gypsy to can decipher her dilemma... — — two men are in love with me, so i'd want you to tell me which of 'em will be the lucky one of becoming my husband [after reading the tarot, the gypsy replied to the woman], — the lucky one will be he for you gonna marry with the other

tip-top… I woke up Monday and Tuesday I thought to go Wednesday to work, but when Thursday I saw comes Friday, I said to myself, what a hell to look for work on Saturday when Sunday is my day off... I mumbled… thinking of you…

be sure I'm not going to hanker for you for I'm so damn determined to keep you hid in the deep blue realm of my mind

more full of mysteries as the Aegean, much more impressive than Olympus, I'm not for you only the woman, but time itself fulfilled with charm; I am the new one Aphrodite, I am the beauty beam of Hellenic, and I am yours and only yours to make you feel as if you are to make you feel as you must be, — the Zeus of my realm... — I swear, — I cross my heart, — you are my muse, don't be surprised, — knock me a kiss

❝ i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) ———————————————————— i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you ———————————————————— here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky, of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart ———————————————————— i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)... ❞  

❝ [ the salt moans... — that crystal of the sea sprinkles a vital light out of the foam... that... dust of the sea, in you the tongue receives a kiss from the ocean of the night: taste imparts to every seasoned dish your ocean essence; the smallest, miniature wave from the salt-cellar reveals to us more than domestic whiteness; in it, we taste infinitude.... ❞ [fragment]

that mystery… of "love you"‥ i wanna feel it, i wanna hear it, perpetually…

— yes, I needed it... — how frequently? — daily, (to see you) — on the wish list? — bed, petals, you… (watching me…)

«— I can feel you thinking.  — Sorry. I can't sleep.  — Actually, I have a little sumethin' for that.  — Just a little sumthin'?» °.○ you're not a liar, — you're just that person with an authentic imagination... — any of your fancies have their own attachment playing nicely with any other infidelities; i don't lie either, — i only add to the big river a few of effluents, using huge fidelity of love; it's a love for which i have a lot to give, but overwhelming for just a single one recipient

i let my thoughts fly, absently, but a hummingbird found them and gave 'em color with its trills seducing my heart's metaphors making even a blues to whistle enough to sensibilize my galaxy to echo, like a bird on the wire

...but if in between me and you was not just a chemical reaction created, (let's say), — somewhere, when a mysterious rainbow made a fantastic fusion with the silhouettes' sounds of a night, witched by love's thrill ✰ ...and if we'd've been a tableau in the pigment of lust's substance, associated with our hearts' pulse, whispering, (let's say like that), — you never missed me, for I've been worn inside your soul, everywhere ✰ ...but ؟‽ ✰ ...and ؟‽ ✰ ...if ؟‽

❝ I've named you the Queen . There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier, — but you are the Queen. When you go through the streets, no one recognizes you. No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks at the carpet of red gold that you tread as you pass, the nonexistent carpet. And when you appear, all the rivers, sounds in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world. Only you and I. Only you and I, my love. Listen to it... ❞ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❝ I don't love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz, or the arrow of carnations that fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, — in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love, a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, ...

❝  Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the flower lance that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh, and I could come back with eyes tired at times, from having seen the unchanging earth. But when your laughter enters, seeking me, i rise to the sky for it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter, it opens. But if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, — laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea, in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade,  while in the spring, — love. I want your laughter like the flower, I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country. Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you. Bu...

Here I am... (defenseless), (not naked), — right in front of your eyes. Don't stare at me. Take me in. ✰ Without shame, expose me to verbs and pronouns, adjectives, and nouns... Create me to look as if we are reciprocal possessive reflection. ✰ Manipulate the colors or the wavering lights of descriptive linguistics if it's necessary. ✰ Sneak a whisper of Neruda or of another who's nearer to the shelter of your soul... ✰ Be gentle... (remember), — I'm easily tickled and the misery isn't a part of my game. ✰ Sniff me, taste me, feel me, touch me, — arrange my attire, — capture definitively the smallest mistake. ✰ My offer is not a borrow and can't be taken back. ✰ Here I am... (defenseless), (not naked), — wondering by myself how the "love" will be used, where it will be placed, what part of me will be wrapped...‽ ✰ Could be the verb of an adjective from the noun pulverized with known pronouns, or could be you… You & I‧‧‧ cheerily mindsets bathed in ...

define love, — love is a  transferred  affection, — [touch me there], [ feel my music] touch, — but not so much

❝ because of your love i lost my sobriety; i am intoxicated by the madness of love; in this fog have become a stranger to me; i'm so drunk, i've lost the way to my house; in the garden, i see only your face from trees and blossoms; i inhale only your fragrance drunk with the ecstasy of love; i can no longer tell the difference between drunker and drink between lover and beloved... ❞

❝ When I cannot look at your face, I look at your feet. Your feet of arched bone, your hard little feet. I know that they support you and that your sweet weight rises upon them. Your waist and your breasts, the doubled purple of your nipples, the sockets of your eyes that have just flown away, your wide fruit mouth, your red tresses, my little tower. But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters until they found me... ❞

I'm gonna point the finger at you, anyone to see who's the one who caresses me and shapes my soul with its thoughts full of grace and deeds, along with gentle touches, like the breeze of summer nights stuffed with whispers of longing and a sprightly wily contemplation, lulled through the wave of feelings, pearled words, and amusing savor in magic gifts of any gifted guitarist, with us, in a wink of riffs, avowing, I‧found‧Love‧when‧I‧found‧You

a pressing need unveils your mystery using the sinless sound of a mandolin 𓇼 it's carried by your culpable sentiment sedated and kept in your gifted heart 𓇼 it's like a riveted witchery, magnetizing my emotions to an unusual ecstasy… 𓇼 it is as if you'd pour some sugar on me

get up, you, the jewel with divine perfume; rise and reveal yourself on the fantasy paths spiced with the nightly romance, smooched with lovely intense velvety vibrations... get up and sips nectar out of a timid beam hidden between some fluffy clouds and the twinkling of the morning dawn on the soul shadow of a starry sky... get up and let yourself be kissed and seduced; (get up...), — get up, it's later than you think... you're under spell of a warm embrace in my penned poem

the faithful shadow of yours is interwoven with mine, — it's following me everywhere

i purified through myself, then i opened the window for you, love... no more knocks for not waking the neighbors... enter directly... color my world

nor even if it's the night, nor even if it's the day don't run... don't run away out of my dreams, — only there can be told what never happened but comes naturally... (to me and you...) contextual

❝ Love came and became like blood in my body. It rushed through my veins and encircled my heart. Everywhere I looked, I saw one thing. Love's name written on my limbs, on my left palm, on my forehead, on the back of my neck, on my right big toe... Oh, my friend, all that you see of me is just a shell, and the rest belongs to love... ❞

— how would you prefer it to be, (younger... older‧‧‧), (you asked) — (‧‧‧distinguished...), (i replied), its ruby of the mature raspberry must vibrate on my lips in the language of Love... — must be… in—ti—ma—te—ly… must be acting in a chronicle which rouses those kinds of emotions... to take you to take me far, far away, there… from where it comes... wrapped in the veil of a kiss... if you could feel what I'm thinking

a fire's burning smoldered between a-rouse out of a dream and another you're given in an absolute lethargy incapable of intervening for a while reputation captured appetite's sense forgetting about commandments for love came here embodied in me, you to get lost in my soul's bouquet

i love you! and not my lips say this but my eyes charged by a light what's not mine but you sent it to me... i love you! and not my lips say this but my hands agitated by a shiver what's not mine but you sent it to me... i love you! and not my lips say this but my soul lit by a fire a fire that burns since you sent it to me... so don't blame me...

full of deep desire, I let my lungs to get invaded with your perfume, while your hands whispered to me on my body, the romance poetries mixed with the unfathomable lust of the real wild child that you are tamed while you wait for my love

love didn't bring to me the breakfast in bed but left me to sleep a little more having the care to program some whispers sent with the help of the wind warmed by a few rays of the sun hidden among the tiny clouds which loves to gaze at me walking gallantly through those dreams accompanied by a clink, playful and gently, like a sweet tender kiss, only to provoke me to stretch and to search your hypnotics lure, — quand tu m'appelles‧‧‧

his fictitious gallant being, longs for her nakedness ⋯ somehow she feels him how his mind rides to her... ⋯ feels the appetizing show prior to the start of fancy... ⋯ prior to the wink of the sun in her wetly blue... tempted ⋯ (addicted), waits for her call in his longest deeply dream

(my spirit) — (longs), (i miss) — (a kiss), — (it's yours), — (gone), — (fruited mind)... (to bring)... (now), (you)... (to me)... (flew)... (far but near), — (to reach)...—  (to touch)... (so sweet)... (it's you)... (a smile), — (your gaze), — (melancholy), (it seems)... — (inside), (a bit), (the happiness)... (i sip), — (slower), — (to guess), — (your thought)... (my dream)... (you, came), — (dishevelled)...

Somewhere, far away, in a hidey-hole of the world, delimited by a lake and a sea is a piece of land where a long time ago, a town has been raised. In that town is a tiny street with only one way out. On that street, at a certain number, is a house. In that house, is a room. In that room lives somebody more or less unknown but who has a few dreams surrounded by a sweetening breeze of memories that tactfully access the happiness' shape. Shape of one who, unexplainable, longs for someone never met…

It was raining infernally... and us... we're doing love at some mansards. Through the windows of the sky, oval-shaped, the clouds had been flowing in the March's. The walls of the room were agitating behind some sketches in chalk. And our souls were dancing into an unseen, out of a concrete world. "The rain will pour on your wings", you said, "And will rain with lump's ornaments on the whole globe, and through the weather". "Doesn't matter", I was telling you, "Lorelei, it rains only on my flight, with the feather...that's all. Then I rose up higher and higher without knowing in which part of the world I left my room. You've been calling me out from behind: "Answer me, answer me... what's more beautiful...? The people...? The rain...?" It was raining infernally, a total madness of rain... and us, we were doing love, at some mansards. I'd have never wanted it to experience the end... never......

You know, isn't it? You know I was conquered by you with your fascinating mind. Deep in my soul, i built daily by myself some reality in a wonderland. Out there, you'll have, as magic shipmaster of my fantasy, a place reserved forever. And I'll taste each shudder. And I'll enslave you deeply and tenderly. And you'll don't oppose. And I'll don't oppose, too, if you'll summon my psyche to connect with yours… all the way.

Do you have any idea how much I want you? Wanting to love you, it's like an extreme sport. Once, it's like skydiving, then like a marathon. Like scuba diving, then like I climb mountains. It's like I'd run and sweat through the feelings with speed on the highway of moments, having more than a hundred pulsations per second, just to cross the finish line together with you, at the same time, in the adrenaline of senses, with all moans of our bodies and kisses, while other peck kisses are for a tiny pause of respiro. Yet for all these, I have to lie, terrified because you'll forget to open the parachute or to swim, assuming it's illusory, love's fine line tween us.

Happiness can be conjugated only in the past tense of a present. Most of the time is just a drop, identically like this moment, lured in a masterpiece and a finesse prepared to be the fragrance kind from a future when your smile will be a reply tied in memories just to ask yourself when and if  have you ever loved a woman, — (and that woman being me…)