{"id":707,"date":"2021-05-16T18:14:22","date_gmt":"2021-05-16T16:14:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/beucheh.cluster023.hosting.ovh.net\/?p=707"},"modified":"2021-05-16T18:36:52","modified_gmt":"2021-05-16T16:36:52","slug":"cahier-n12","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/beucheh.cluster023.hosting.ovh.net\/?p=707","title":{"rendered":"Cahier n\u00b012"},"content":{"rendered":"<pre id=\"block-4555fa03-77e1-4e0b-96b5-692f95bdc63d\" class=\"wp-block-preformatted\">Aucun mot n'apparait\n\nDans le vent\nne s'ouvre\nque leur absence\n\nAu bavardage\nr\u00e9pond\nle silence\n\nLe souffle ne vibre plus\nle corps ne r\u00e9sonne pus\n\nApr\u00e8s le cri\nla voix se tait\n\nOn voudrait le secours d'une pens\u00e9e\n\nRien\n\nSous la peau\nla solitude\n\nDans l'insens\u00e9 de la bourrasque\nla pluie\naura raison\n\nDes pleurs\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 21-10-2020)\n\n\nLe temps de la nuit\nquand d'un ciel\nd'eau\nplus clair\nle vent lave\ncomme la pluie\n&nbsp;\nLes clart\u00e9s\n&nbsp;\n\"Tenir le pas gagn\u00e9\"\nloin du tohu-bohu&nbsp;\ndes vendeurs de paroles\n&nbsp;\nCelui\nde l'aube\nsans dieux\n&nbsp;\nQuand l'embrassement seul\npeut conjurer ta peur\n&nbsp;\nA l'apparition de quelques branches\nm\u00e9andres\nde ta pens\u00e9e\n&nbsp;\nVoici le jour\nqui ne r\u00e9sout rien\n&nbsp;\nVoici le jour\nde la nuit qui te quitte\n&nbsp;\nSeulement\nInexorablement\n&nbsp;\nSeulement\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 20-10-2020)\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;Le mur avait\nreverdi\n\"comme une goutte d'eau\"\n\nLa foug\u00e8re\npoussait\noblique\n\nD'un jardin sauvage et vertical\nOn s'\u00e9prenait du monde\nde la vie\net de l'inattendu\n\nCe qui par ces temps\ntravers\u00e9s\n- occup\u00e9s\n\nTenait lieu d'une absence\nd'un \u00e9cart\n\nMais aussi d'un prodige\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 17-10-2020)\n\n\nLe ciel\n(\u00e0 l'image \u00e9crite)\nagrandissait ce r\u00e9el\natrophi\u00e9\n\nQue la pens\u00e9e en place\navait r\u00e9duite\n\u00e0 l'\u00e9conomie\n\n\"Economie \u00e9conomie mon cher Horacio\"\n\nQui se sachant moribonde\ndevenait commer\u00e7ante\nde mort\net de police\n\nAlors l'image \u00e9crite\n\nNous creusons des \u00e9carts\ndes \u00e9chappements illicites\n\nLes nuages striaient l'infini\ncouleur de sable\net le mirage surgissait\n\nPeu de chose\nChose du r\u00e9el\nred\u00e9ploy\u00e9\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 16-10-2020)\n\n\nA l'affolement tardif\nles branches\n\u00e9prises de vent\nperturbaient la vision\n\nDeux oiseaux\n\u00e9taient immobiles\n\nSilencieux aussi\n\u00e0 la froideur\nqui avait chass\u00e9 la pluie\n\nIls go\u00fbtaient\n- spectateurs\ndes dessins d'ombres\n\nA l'encre de Chine\n\nEn mouvement\nque le soleil\nglissait dans la tourmente\n\nL'un d'eux s'envola\nl'autre ferma les yeux\n\nJe disparus moi aussi\n\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 15-10-2020)\n\nLa brume\nrappelle \u00e0 l'endormi\nson voyage\n\nR\u00eavant se dessine\nsanguine\nle d\u00e9sir des corps errants\nla poussi\u00e8re du soleil\nen suspens\n&nbsp;\nComme entre ciel\net terre\n&nbsp;\nQuand d'un fantasme\n\u00e9gar\u00e9\ns'ouvre le monde\nle po\u00e8me dit\nce qui ne peut\n&nbsp;\nSe raconter\n&nbsp;\nPlus loin encore\nque l'espace\nou le temps\n&nbsp;\nA l'apparition d'un baiser\n&nbsp;\nTout comme au retournement&nbsp;\nde sa feuille\n&nbsp;\nA la lumi\u00e8re\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 14-10-2020)\n\n\n\nA l'immobilit\u00e9\nPresque\n&nbsp;\nLe surgissement d'une couleur\n&nbsp;\nLe ciel\ndes embrassements\ns'\u00e9carte \u00e0 l'infini\n&nbsp;\nQuelques secondes seulement\n&nbsp;\n- presque\n&nbsp;\nL'\u00e9tonnante possibilit\u00e9 d'une place\no\u00f9 se d\u00e9ploierait\n&nbsp;\nLe seul sentiment d'\u00eatre\n&nbsp;\nUn mouvement\nune r\u00e9sonance\n&nbsp;\nCet envol\n&nbsp;\nTraversant le temps\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 12-10-2020)\n&nbsp;\n\nA clareza&nbsp;\ndo domingo&nbsp;\ncom chuva\n&nbsp;\nExatamente\ndepois da chuva\n&nbsp;\nQuando o p\u00e1ssaro\nvolta\ne que n\u00e3o se sabe mais\no sonho da noite\n&nbsp;\nMas que te deixa\nnuma suavidade\nintensa\n&nbsp;\nAcreditar na vida\nSem raz\u00e3o\nsem esperan\u00e7a\n&nbsp;\nEstar aqui\n&nbsp;\nMorando numa certa qualidade\n&nbsp;\nDe luz\n&nbsp;\n(Caderno n\u00ba12 \/ 11-10-2020)\n\n\nDans le retour\nd'une image m\u00eame\n\n(Les feuilles de l'automne ruisselantes de pluie)\n\nLe souvenir\ndevient puissance\n\nComme s'\u00e9cartent deux points\nconfondus dans le lointains\ns'\u00e9loignant \u00e0 leur approche\n\nLa joie\nest dans le temps\n\nEt ce \"m\u00eame\"\nse surprend\n\u00e0 ne plus se reconna\u00eetre\ndans le miroir\n\nQui le figeait\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 10-10-2020)\n\n\nQuand par dessus le toit\nla premi\u00e8re clart\u00e9\nfut un baiser\n\nL'\u00e9paule se retourna\n\nA quelle fragilit\u00e9\nsommes-nous accroch\u00e9s\n\nCahiers aux feuilles\nnoircies d'impossibles\n\nNous tenons de quelques points\n\nUn Orion\nUne Ourse\nUne B\u00e9telgeuse\n\nLes l\u00e8vres sur la peau du jour\nconjurent\nleurs disparitions\n\nLe po\u00e8me est la trace\nla trace\n\nUne \u00e9toile dessin\u00e9e\navec la poussi\u00e8re d'or\nd'un maquillage\n\nD'enfant\n\nCherchant dans son dos\nle souvenir\nde leurs illuminations\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 07-10-2020)\n\n\nSe devine le jour\n\u00e0 une esp\u00e9rance\ncertaine\n\nPresque la nuit d\u00e9j\u00e0 n'est plus\ndans ce qui appara\u00eet\n\nLa feuill\u00e9e en sursis\ndans le gris blanchi\n\u00e0 la divination du vert\net de l'or\nd\u00e9j\u00e0\npendu \u00e0 quelques branches\n\nCe qu'il faut comprendre\nc'est que je n'\u00e9cris que du temps\nune certaine lumi\u00e8re\ninsaisissable\n\nQuand le po\u00e8me\na d\u00e9j\u00e0 disparu\nqu'\u00e0 l'esp\u00e9rance certaine\nil reste ce qui n'a pas\n\u00e9t\u00e9 v\u00e9cu\n\nQue ce qui est&nbsp;\nest un \u00e9cart\n\nCi-g\u00eet\n\nCette pens\u00e9e intacte de l'\u00e9lan\ncette aube\n\nCette promesse\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 06-10-2020)\n\n\n\nLa pluie\nde l'automne\nreste\ncomme la m\u00e9moire\ntrop lourde\n\nElle se ressent plus tard\nsans qu'aucun soleil\nn'apparaisse\n\nSeulement l'herbe\nreverdit\nle souvenir persiste\n\n- Dans ma poche\nil y a de la terre\nj'\u00e9tais l'\u00e9t\u00e9\nje disparais dans la brume\n\nLa pointe du froid\nbr\u00fble d\u00e9j\u00e0 dans le po\u00eale\n\nJe referme mon gilet\npour \u00e9crire un po\u00e8me\n\u00e0 la pluie de l'automne\n\nQuand d\u00e9j\u00e0 le vent\nd\u00e9tourne\nma pens\u00e9e\n\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 05-10-2020)\n\n\n\nA l'ouverture du rideau\ndes restes de vent\ntutoyaient\nle soleil\n&nbsp;\nDans le d\u00e9sastre&nbsp;\nlaiss\u00e9\nl'insaisissable\navait travers\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nLa libert\u00e9 se forge\nouverte sur le monde\nnon dans le surplomb&nbsp;\ndes salons (m\u00e9diatiques)\n&nbsp;\nLes barri\u00e8res n'arr\u00eatent pas les temp\u00eates\n&nbsp;\nQuand d'aucuns\npar leur appropriation du langage\nse s\u00e9parent\n&nbsp;\nNous montrant comme\n&nbsp;\nS\u00e9par\u00e9s\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 02-10-2020)\n\n\n\nA l'aube retard\u00e9e\nmajestueuse\nd'un soleil d'eau\n&nbsp;\nL'herbe gorg\u00e9e\navait pouss\u00e9\nhirsute\n&nbsp;\nLes feuilles\n(presque mortes)\nimitaient l'or\n&nbsp;\nEt dans la solitude\nrest\u00e9e\nsans imagination\n&nbsp;\nLe mouvement&nbsp;\nperceptible de quelques branches\nassurait\n&nbsp;\nCette&nbsp;\ndur\u00e9e sans attente\nqu'offraient sans le savoir\n&nbsp;\nLa joie ou la peine travers\u00e9es\n&nbsp;\nJe veux dire\n&nbsp;\nVIVRE\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 01-10-2020\n\n\nDans les os\nla pluie\ncomme transi\nle manque\nque le corps\na laiss\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nD'un embrassement\nla lumi\u00e8re est venue\ncomme un chant\n&nbsp;\nDans sa clart\u00e9\nl'oiseau\n\u00e0 la l\u00e9g\u00e8ret\u00e9 du nuage\ndisparut\n&nbsp;\nLaissant l'\u00e9chancrure\nouverte\ndu ciel\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 30-09-2020)\n\n\n\nD\u2019un bleu\nsombre\net presque&nbsp;\ntransparent\n&nbsp;\nLa nuit\ntire\nson effacement\n&nbsp;\nPar la couleur\ns\u2019\u00e9puise l\u2019obscurit\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nTel un peintre\nabandonnant ses brosses\n&nbsp;\nCe fut le regard travers\u00e9\njusqu\u2019au c\u0153ur\nque je vis la transformation\n&nbsp;\nSans nul autre besoin\nj\u2019\u00e9tais devenu\n&nbsp;\nLe jour\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 29-09-2020)\n\n\nPar des ocres\ndiff\u00e9rents\nse dessine\nla journ\u00e9e\n&nbsp;\nLa table de bois\ncir\u00e9e&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\nLe mur \u00e0 l\u2019enduit\nde terre\n&nbsp;\nQuand le dehors est \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur\nreli\u00e9s tous deux\npar la lumi\u00e8re\n&nbsp;\nC\u2019est un silence\nd\u2019offrandes\n&nbsp;\nDes feuilles jaunissantes\ns\u2019accrochent t\u00e9m\u00e9raires\n\u00e0 ce qui d\u00e9j\u00e0\nest pass\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nLa danse d\u2019un oiseau\n&nbsp;\nL\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nEt soudainement le soleil\nportant l\u2019\u00e9tendard\nd\u2019une autre clart\u00e9\n&nbsp;\nDes morts nous gardons\ndes souvenirs\nquelques objets parfois\n&nbsp;\nUne pr\u00e9sence au monde\nque certains\nont laiss\u00e9e\n&nbsp;\nUne couleur de terre\ndevenue&nbsp;\npigment\n&nbsp;\nDe la beaut\u00e9\n\u00e0 laquelle seule\n&nbsp;\nNous nous sommes raccroch\u00e9s\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 28-09-2020)\n\n\n\nComo uma lembran\u00e7a\nque andaria\ndesaparecendo\nno ch\u00e3o\nna terra\n\nUma folha\nna qual a \u00e9poca\ndeixou\num poema\nan\u00f3nimo\n\nSempre penso\nna sua beleza\n\nSeu surgimento\nseu brilho\nseu sumi\u00e7o\nsua lembran\u00e7a\n\nAndando desaparecendo\nno ch\u00e3o\nna terra\n\nUma folha\nna qual essa \u00e9poca\ndeixou\nseu poema\n\nAn\u00f3nimo\n\n\n(Caderno n\u00ba12 \/ 27-09-2020)\n\n\nLe peu\ndu devenir\nde l\u2019aube\n&nbsp;\nIl pleut\n&nbsp;\nMouvement d\u2019une danse\n&nbsp;\nComme on referme\nle gilet de laine\nla main droite\nsur le c\u0153ur\n&nbsp;\nMille oublis\n&nbsp;\nNe restent que les pens\u00e9es souvenirs\n&nbsp;\nAussi la pr\u00e9sence\ntel un rouge-gorge\nquelques herbes&nbsp;\nhirsutes\n&nbsp;\nL\u2019apparition se fait lente\ndisparait\n&nbsp;\nLe son comme un murmure\nde la pluie\n&nbsp;\nQue faisons-nous\n&nbsp;\nQue faisons-nous\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b0 12&nbsp;&nbsp;\/ 26-09-2020)\n\n\nAux surgissements\nde la beaut\u00e9\ndes gouttes de pluie\nau linteau de la fen\u00eatre\nsuspendues\n\nRIEN\n\nLe gris ardoise\ndes nuages\nobscurcit\nla pens\u00e9e\n\nComme transit\nla premi\u00e8re occurence\ndu froid\n(l'id\u00e9e plut\u00f4t que le frisson)\n\nAlors le peu de cet\n\u00e9clat\n\nLA BEAUT\u00c9\n\nEst \u00e9trang\u00e8re au monde\ncar ce monde\nest devenu\n\u00e9tranger\n\u00e0 lui-m\u00eame\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 25-09-2020)\n\n\n\nLe silence\n&nbsp;\nComme la plante\nd\u00e9ploie\nses feuilles\nblanches\n\u00e0 la lumi\u00e8re\n&nbsp;\nDans la caresse\ndes corps\nreli\u00e9s par la nuit\n&nbsp;\nLa chaleur\n\u00e9crit le po\u00e8me\ndes r\u00eaves\n&nbsp;\nTU\nes l\u00e0\n&nbsp;\nEt dans les for\u00eats travers\u00e9es\ndes embrassements&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\nUn \u00e9blouissement\n&nbsp;\nComme le souvenir&nbsp;\ngard\u00e9\nde ce qui nous prot\u00e8ge\n&nbsp;\nD\u00e9j\u00e0\n&nbsp;\nTransparaissent les nervures\ncomme offrande\n&nbsp;\nComme pri\u00e8re\nA la nuit\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 24-09-2020)\n\n\nComme s'\u00e9tire\nla nuit\n\nLe po\u00e8me\nreste\nd'un embrassement\n\nLe d\u00e9sir\nqui les unit\ncomme la pluie\n\nDevient\nsource\n\nEt dans l'offrande\nau ciel\n\nDemeur\u00e9\nvide\n\nD\u00e9j\u00e0 des pens\u00e9es\nprennent forme\nde nuages\n\n\u00d4 images\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 21-09-2020)\n\nLa respiration\ncomme la mer\n\u00e0 l\u2019incessant mouvement\n&nbsp;\nReste\ndans le r\u00eave\n&nbsp;\nQui suit\nle souffle\nest infini\n&nbsp;\nLe jour et la nuit\nsurgissent en images\n&nbsp;\nSe transformant\n&nbsp;\nRien d\u2019autre qu\u2019un nuage\n&nbsp;\nUN AMOUR\n&nbsp;\nComme la soudaine lumi\u00e8re\nLe teinta\n&nbsp;\nDe couleurs\n&nbsp;\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 16-09-2020)\n\n\n\nRestait\nla pauvret\u00e9\nqui dans l'aube\ngrise\ndoute du soleil\n\nQuelques noisettes au sol\nont \u00e9t\u00e9 laiss\u00e9es\nl\u00e0\n\nDans la vitre\nle reflet d'un ailleurs\ndit aussi\nl'impossibilit\u00e9 de partir\n\n\u00d4 Afrique\n\u00d4 Congo\n\n- De Brazza je rejoindrai Rio\n\nEt l'aube grise d'ici\ncomme on compte les heures\naccrochera ses clart\u00e9s\naux lueurs\nde ces restes-l\u00e0\n\n\u00c9miett\u00e9s\naux oiseaux\nen retard\n\n\n(Cahier n\u00b012 \/ 15-09-2020)\n\n\n\nPouco a pouco\nn\u00e3o me reconhe\u00e7o mais\nnesse mundo\n\nSinto-me como\num afastamento\n- Acho que me envelhe\u00e7o\n\nMas sem tristeza\n\nHoje \u00e9 sol\ne no mesmo tempo\nas folhas j\u00e1 est\u00e3o caindo\n\nMe torno uma lembran\u00e7a\n\nSou uma crian\u00e7a\n\nSem duvida nessa vida\nnada fui mais\ndo que um menino\n\nAtravessando sozinho a rua\n\nMas hoje\nhoje est\u00e1 diferente\nporque hoje\nat\u00e9 longe desse mundo\n\nN\u00e3o tenho mais medo\n\nDe viver\n\n\n(Caderno n\u00ba12 \/ 13-09-2020)<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Aucun mot n&rsquo;apparait Dans le vent ne s&rsquo;ouvre que leur absence Au bavardage r\u00e9pond le silence Le souffle ne vibre plus le corps&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":540,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.12 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Cahier n\u00b012 - Thierry Beucher<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/beucheh.cluster023.hosting.ovh.net\/?p=707\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"fr_FR\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Cahier n\u00b012 - Thierry 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