O Chan For Magloire St Aude
Ochan
A
ma gloire, Saint Ode.
Ide pur
Tonte
Pour l'assemblage des sylphes
Cinéraires
Des verres d'aisselles
Ide pur
Conque
Pour des âtres acalèphes
Aux noeuds évadés
Faix d'ut
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poem by Roland Bastien
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A view from my mind
Tinkled – the Sundays’ bells
Brought by the wings
Flown beyond the dodge palace
With Corelli and
Landed on Lido beach
To graph a new sound.
Cars violated the sight
And lit purple butterflies
Over the ocean candles
A woman dressed white
Kissed the sky
And her eye lifted
The sound to the bells’ ear
I returned to Venezia left the sound behind
And stopped at the Guardini de la biennale.
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poem by Roland Bastien
Added by Poetry Lover
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