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I won't torment you all with a bad pic of a journal this time. Enjoy (or not) as the case may be.

--Notre Projet--

Very late on a Friday night
or Saturday morning?

Born of frustration
around sharing thoughts
and Ideas
Without having a language
in common.

Conceived at a moment when
it was all too easy to confuse
whiskey with
wisdom.

I proposed that we each
(re)interpret the other's poems
into our respective mother tongues.

So far, it's been fun.

And as for C. -
Merci!

No, no, no... There's that challenge stuff again, as if I'm somehow challenging anyone to anything. That's not the case.

Another genius
Retreats
To another bunker.
War-weary,
Still
Addicted to war.

And I'm killing myself here.

I'm fine with your poems, they convey truth, as promised.

Absolved by avi armour. Chemeric generals directing bogus battles, campaigning for... Dead messengers scattered on the ground outside like caribou bones from some old Farley Mowat novel.

I'm just another dying one... My own David to my own Saul until I fall on my own sword. Shears is my name. [Sigh]

Casey

Casey thank you for your response. Nice thing to wake up to in the morning and a an intriguing read.

I'm not sure where the whole challenge perception is coming from - this project is only a challenge to myself.
I'm also glad that you seem to be fine with my poems.