Auteur: Bout Vercnocke

My soul is ageless as a star, not yet discovered, but present for the matching eye, should you one day then dig for gold and find my heart, be gentle, before you reach be sure, because once opened it will travel at the speed of light, and finally, when both unite, this newborn constellation will only be for you to recognize
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Silent Songs

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I know that oceans are,
(let’s keep in touch)
I know that oceans are,
I know,
that’s how I know you know me,
I know,
although we never touched,
no hands, no waving,
no murmur soft
in passing by,
only with eyes,
singing silent songs
but even then I know,
I know you know me
There is a sun to greet and
in these nights, when all have
gone to sleep, we are awake,
singing silent songs
that’s how we keep in touch
that’s how I know you know me,
I feel your breath hovering
around a crescent moon,
those clouds can’t hardly
cover all our longing,
paradise,
and in the meantime,
I know you know me,
I know you knew me then,
as waves left free on beaches
to linger for a while,
singing silent songs
and then the sand,
the pebbled shore,
it testifies of longing,
the hunger taken in
and shared,
I know you know me
I know you won’t forget
I keep on walking beaches,
to linger for a while,
singing silent songs
that’s how we keep in touch
I know that oceans are
(let’s keep in touch)
I know that oceans are

image: Praia de Mira, Portugal, July 2013
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Tides

Rainbow 003

I have seen tides high and low
and I have seen the people in between,
I have seen beaches rocked and stoned,
while others then were soft and clean,
O, were they sweet!
A tidal fragrance left there,
a reminder of times in between,
I’ve seen the rich, I’ve seen the poor,
I’ve seen the saint, I’ve seen the whore,
I’ve seen them live, I’ve seen them die,
I’ve seen how tides came high and low,
I’ve seen the mists, I’ve seen the rain,
I’ve seen how moons came down to bleed
while suns came back to dry up all this greed,
but never was there any grief
for those who lived here in between,
who with a dying murmur testified
of tidal fragrance left now rocked
and stoned, the blue reminder
of times that came here in between.

(written at bar “Le K’Fé”, July 2013, Mimizan-Plage, France ~ picture taken at Nazaré, Portugal)
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Roadtrip 2013 Sunset Drive through The Falaise Pocket Normandy France


This is what a roadtrip is about: driving, and then be so lucky to drive alongside a beautiful sunset on a straight road, and… just having your dashboard camera rolling. The smooth sound of the engine running in cruise control mode, the wind, being almost alone, some cars and trucks passing on the highway, and the sun dancing with and through the trees: these are magical moments! This is also one of the historic battlefields of World War 2: The Falaise pocket, where the German Second Army was trapped by the Allied Forces, this gives this drive an extra emotional extra… For the History on this devastating battlefield see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Falaise_pocket Last year I was on these roads too and I also made a video (only with ‘still’ pictures, see: http://youtu.be/9Bbk6deXpiM a remarkable set of coincidences happened there, but that’s always the case when ‘you have no roadplan, but only the road’…

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Comme

(pour Marie)

Comme les oiseaux, ici,
à mes pieds,
Comme la pluie qui tombe
et cherche mes larmes,
Comme la nuit profonde
… où se cachent mes peurs
et mes angoisses,
Comme si tout, si tous
ne me voient pas,
Ô,
Comme tes yeux qui eux me voient,
Comme tes mots qui me rassurent
que tout, que tous,
comme les oiseaux, ici,
à mes pieds,
seront les bienvenus au Paradis,
là où tout devient,
où tous deviennent
Lumière.

Benasque, Espagne, le 17 Juillet 2013
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Good writing makes a difference

njpoet-boy

Dear friends, I don’t usually recommend ‘living’ writers, but in this case, I make an exception: please read the work of Charles Bivona now & then. I’ve not yet met him IRL (one of the items on my bucket list though), but he is (excuse me for using the word) a damned good writer (and a professor too). His work is often autobiographical, very recognizable and he has “the gift of the word”. When you read his work it feels as if you’re looking into a mirror: this is real life and yet there’s a fictional touch to it which makes his work stand out and lifts it out of the ordinary. The way he mingles society and literature & arts into his own writing and view of the world (and beyond) gives me hope: yes, we can; yes: good writing can make a diference in this world which is overwhelmed by violence, war and hate nowadays, yes, there is hope! Thank you Charles for being who you are, and for sharing your work & thoughts with us, with the world! Yes: your writing makes me feel better!

Website of Charles Bivona: http://charlesbivona.com/

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