The Space Within

To create space , man builds walls up...
But :

the brown sounds of Rembrandt's painting,
the bright colours of J.S. Bach's music,
the melodies of written joy and sorrow,
the dancing steps in some old people's eyes,
the cries and laughter in a word-splashed calligraphy,
all those precious stones are what a man's soul needs
to build up the walls of its space within

Yes, walls,
but not blind walls, walls of war
but walls of light and hope.

And what is more difficult to build up than a wall ?:
an open door for one's neighbour.

( that is my definition of " space" )

Pierre Bordenave
May 2 , 1999

I threw flowers of innocence
against walls of lies
and I won !
The walls tumbled down in a dusty smell of death,
the dust turned into sparks of love
and a tender perfume of Spring
stood up in place of the fierce architecture.
I sang songs of love
against hymns of hate
and I won !
Words like smiles, notes like flowers ,
a whole symphony of sun
floated around the world
and warmed up the soul of man.
I painted a palace of hope for you
to make you forget your words of indifference
and I won !
We danced the ever new dance of love again
and a mild blue sky lightened the gardens of your eyes.
Then , I woke up ...

Pierre Bordenave
May 14 ,1999

A Dictionary of Sand
I shall write a dictionary of sand
I shall collect handfuls of words of sand:
red words from Africa
yellow words from Australia
green words from Asia
dark words from the Moon
and some blue ones from the desert under the sea.
Then I shall write them down in a book,
a huge book like a colorful mountain of grains of sand;
and, if the wind does not blow my work away,
if the ocean does not swallow it,
I shall build up my house on top,
with its walls made of dreams
and its roof made of hope
Then you will knock on my door ...

Pierre Bordenave
May 18 , 1999

The Soul of a Dream

a dream like some words
of innocence written in the sky

a dream like a song of love
in the music of the rain

a dream like some stars of happiness
shining in your eyes

a dream like a touch of tenderness
in your hand on mine

a dream like a moon of complicity
in the light of your smile

a dream like some grains of sand
rolling on your skin

a dream like some tears of joy
falling from my eyes

Pierre Bordenave
September 6 , 2000

a blackbird chose a tree in my garden
to sing his morning song.
I thank him.

Pierre Bordenave
May 16 , 1999

Winter trees & stormy clouds

I am writing leaves on Winter trees

to forget my cold dark thoughts...

 words as leaves

leaves as pages

and trees as mysterious books

of legends and seasons gone...

I am writing a forest of Springtime dreams to come...

Pierre Bordenave