All Seeds

All sleeping seeds she wakens,
The rainbow is her token,
Now winter's power is taken,
In love, all chains are broken

Our broken bodies take her
She mends our crushed spirits.
I will redeem my maker
For laughing at my poor wits.

The storm has passed beside us
From winter's seething terror;
The frozen moments stride us:
To keep these memories is our error.
© 2007 Patrick Bernier


October Gold

October's gold is weak - the forests fall apart,
the weary sheets of incessant rain along with the day
are wrapp'd in humidity. In the mire of the village's road
the hedgerows are stamped down; and, all have forgotten,
the broodless boxing rests visilbe in the thorny bush.

Autumn, amidst her and fallen from her care,
all receive her tears garnered, relieved of creases,
with orchards trickling - squashed and in despair.
The season is dead and I am dying! No more,
not any longer shall I let spring resurrect A in the earth,
and choose death from outside my chest - God of O, I'm dying!
The cold fog breaks nearby to the point that I breathe in corruption.
It comes down rigidly.
© 2007 Patrick Bernier


To Lyndsay

I shall be full of regrets: full of regrets I shall be.
I shall be full of regrets if I search in vain,
songsters whom in this way softly give,
bring and give pleasure without pain.
Like when the first light of day
comes in spring, fruition and life
are all in a greenish shade
which nature gives firstly in blossoms,
all of which are sentiments from betwixt'
untill things fall twirling in autumn
with darkish colors laid out on every road
like the silently sleeping dove beneath its wings;
tranquilly and blanched in winter's code,
discover when the birds flew and nature could not sing.
She is like love which originally and afterwards
comes from the heart thirsty of will and desires infinite.
© 2007 Patrick Bernier


A Solemn Plea

Weeping in the shadows,
Craving you and not the pain.
Eerie drawing power,
I'm in love with you again.

Within we a beast is waiting
For rebirth.

Cast off by our father,
Left to live in misery.
Oh, dear, please embrace me,
And love me perpetually.

Aspiring for assuagement
Of my thirst,
Within me a beast is waiting
For rebirth.
© 2007 Patrick Bernier


Peaceful Rest

I would enjoy a peaceful rest, my friend;
I fear that I can walk this path no more.
Stay with me for a while until the end,
I'm scared and do not know what is in store.

I wish it did not have to be this way,
For I would like to walk with you again.
Behold, the sky has turned an awful grey.
I must get up and walk though I'm in pain.

It feels so good to let the winter in,
And say my last good-bye to this, my soul.
Alas, I will not hear your voice again,
To comfort me and keep my self control.

And now the night is creeping ever near,
Goodbye my friend. Be strong and show no fear.
© 2007 Patrick Bernier


Ladies and Gentlemen!

Art has been made since the beginning of our time. What is it? How did it start? I like to believe that art started as a way to communicate. And speaking (or grunting) was the first version of the expression of emotion in homo sapiens. Art isn`t useless like Oscar Wilde is quoted to have said. Art is a way of expressing ourselves, mostly for others. For example, the words on this page are conveying a message for you all. Some will understand it, while others may not. Most will misunderstand it, and that is ok! it is up to the receiver to make sense of it for themselves. the words, strung together, are merely a medium which I have chosen to present it. People may choose musical notes, colors, or twigs entwined. The artist is trying to be understood. Why else make art? Regardless, art is a necessary tool for living in groups. We need to understand each other to survive and to copulate. Now, since we have established armies and coppers, artists have found all sorts of ways to use it as entertainment. Portraits, riffs, body painting, television, and the global phenomenon known as the internet. Soon everyone can parade their emotional selves thru cyberspace! That is why we are...
© 2007 Patrick Bernier



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