Three poems from Timothee Bordenave

 Timothée Bordenave  Poet Painter 

France 

An adventurer, at home.

The soft, suavous scent, of these burnt lavanders,

Dwells my mind, whilst I quietly write this poem,

In my living room, books and paintings, masks and gems,

Just keep still… All around the silence reigns over.

Blessed be, o Lord ! Thy peace, granted to a poor boy,

Came with the faculty to work, and learn your books…

I can pray now Thy love, in this shrine full of joy,

Rich refuge for my life, which I am glad none took.

There are the jewelry, tailored clothes, lithographs,

Sea shells and silver lamps, ivories, or gold rings…

All reminding of past battles. - My humble being.

Then I will read the Psalms, the Gospels and some Saints !

Before writing a stance, a try, until I faint…

To express gratitude ! As for an epitaph.

*****

A Christian poem.

When I pray Thee o Lord, my voice, humble but proud,

Raise inner, for Thou knows everything of me,

Then I try to write down, speak up, but never loud,

No for we are not much. Before Thy great army.

We are children to Thee, though. Salt grains for the Earth…

We are friends to the birds, colorful like flowers…

We can be good workers, until the last hour,

We can be good servants if we know what we’re worth.

The paradise immense, where will live forever,

Those amongst us who choose to be His believers,

Is like the treasure a peasant finds in a field…

Soon this field acquired, then the riches revealed,

Everyone will think this person has been wise.

Be pious, be gentle, love, hope… - Jesus advises.

*****

The poet plans for work.

You see me now, well quiet, at my library desk !

Director here. Further, I hear cars passing by,

Further, I see grey clouds… The silence is at stake,

Calm, as I read Plato : moments some wish could buy.

Then I take my pen on : I will write for Roma,

For the woman I love, her lips, their aroma…

I will write for Paris, for London, for Madrid,

For a farm in the snow, then for my youth in need.

I want to write again ! For a trip to Jersey, 

On a boat, whilst a storm was raging the Channel,

I want to write about hiking, and this tunnel…

In Geneva when I questioned my survival.

I will write about my past girlfriends - when opals,

Drizzled from their glances on our soft Odyssey !

*****

Timothee Bordenave is a French author, as a poet, novelist and essayist. He has published many books both in French and English. A part of his writings has been translated to various languages and published internationally.

He is also a visual artist as a photographer and a painter, whose works have also been widely shown, in France like in many other countries around the world.

Born in Paris, France, in 1984, he still lives in France today, partaking his days between the capital town and countryside properties. He first worked as a library director, before shifting to be a full time author and artist. 

His interest to culture and creativity has brought him to be very active in the local French art community, involving himself notably in the organization of art events for his friends.

T.B.26.I.3.FR.09100.