agonia francais v3 |
Agonia.Net | Règles | Mission | Contact | Inscris-toi | ||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||
![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() | |||||
Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
![]() |
|
|||||
![]() |
![]()
agonia ![]()
■ Petite valse gitane ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-10-28 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
Neither quick-silver clouds
to mar the horizon, nor giggly toddlers hiding from their nannies to disturb this peaceful hour. Just the peak of a lovely day for a few harried workers basking in the warm, comforting glow of autumn sunshine, away from life's never-ending narcissistic quests. Suddenly, emerald coif and ritzy tail, a mallard drifts into the picture, leisurely trawling the pond for whatever delicacies ducks nibble at lunchtime. A glorious, artist-moving sight: paper, brushes, pencils, cameras slide from pockets, jump out of bags, seeking to immortalize such a fleeting display of grace. So, here I am, fountain pen in hand, poised for a memorable wave of poetic inspiration... And yet, the only words that come to mind are duck à l'orange.
|
||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() | |||||||||
![]() |
La maison de la litérature | ![]() | |||||||
![]() |
La reproduction de tout text appartenant au portal sans notre permission est strictement interdite.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Politique de publication et confidetialité