I dreamt that I woke up in France today
I dreamt that I woke up
in France today
and that every word
that I spoke in Afrikaans, English,
Dutch or the little German
that I knew
fell incomprehensible on unenquiring ears
just as if I wasn’t there at all
and the people were living
as if only the French
were welcome in France
I walked through the streets
at the Latin Quarter
and It was the country of liberty
and in the street foreign kids
erected barriers
and were burning cars
and wrecking shops
and attacked the passers by
and there were police everywhere.
The city of Paris was beautiful
and people where smiling
and it was very romantic,
but I wasn’t a part
of the city and the world
around me
and drifted in and out of it
as dreams go.
I said a prayer
at the Notre Dame cathedral
and looked in awe at the flying buttresses
and rose windows
and heard the Seine flow past.
I walked along the pont des artes
across the river Seine
and in the background
the lights on the Ilse de la citè
burnt bright and reflected
on the dark waters of the Seine.
Bright lights flared
from the Arc de Triomphe
and the Eiffel tower was all lit up
where it was like
A upside down
V-sign against the sky
and suddenly I felt free
from all the things
that bounded me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Tatooed Lovers
Hey Babe
How can we forget?
Those paradise days
In the city of Paris!
Seine river cruising
Eiffel tower dinner
Shows after shows!
Le Moulin Rouge
Le Crazy Horse
Le Crazy Girls
Le Femme
Le Lido de Paris
Le Paradis Latin
The great Parisian shows!
We were happy
L'Open Hope –on
Hop-off Tour
The Louvre Museum
Mona Lisa
The 'Arc de Triomphe'
Avenue des Champs-Elysées
Place de la Concorde
Sacre Coeur Basilica
Notre Dame Cathedral
Centre Georges Pompidou!
Going to La Defense
Versailles
Having Champagne
At Champagne
Hi Babe
How can we forget Paris?
The tattoo lovers we knew
They lived and danced
Above the studio
Where we lived! .....
poem by Kp. Shashidharan
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Paris, Paradise And You!
I have to confess more or less,
The truth in all, which Paris has!
I want to give my bless, to the beauty of this place,
On these lines, in painting a part of its face!
I remember, the moments, we were along!
How nice we talked and dreamed a lot,
As we walked, on Rue St. Germain and St. Michel,
Looking at stores, at buildings. Feeling History, everywere?
And when, the Seine, we had passed,
We many of the events, had felt from the past?
Notre Dame, with it splendour, we looked for more and more,
And next to it, the great ornaments, that we all adore!
Lovers, were sitting in every corner, at every bar,
Even if, Jarden de Luxemburg, was not so far!
And YOU, were so amazing in French,
That I bought, all the books, that were in ranch!
Paris, and her Latin Paradise, were in our hand,
As beautiful as was said!
Napoleon, has put it, with much love, in his plans,
So we, can feel its marvelous bends!
We were in a small Paradise! Lutese in the past!
Today, Paris, we can feel it at last!
Long hours, in her atmosphere, near you in close,
Moments of love, holding you, as a red Rose!
poem by Yoseph Lupu
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Wedding Party
(Wedding Party)
Sailing down night Seine
Champagne brut and goose liver
The Eiffel Tower
Dressed in bright coloured charms
Looked like a demi monde
When the barge banked
I gave Seine the bird’s liver
Peed in the river
Studied the sliver of moon
Dreaming of ice cold lager
Paris’s night streets
September mild and at ease
Bars and bistros shut
The worthless slept in doorways
And I thought of Edit Piaf
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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Dans Paris
The beauty of a city
the breathtaking
awe-inspiring
captivating
somewhat magical Parisian charm
Paris captures the hearts of those who step into its glossy boutiques and cafes
Just as a beautiful and sensuous seductress ensnares her defenceless prey
The star-studded Eiffel Tower in all its glory
shining like a beacon of fire across the Parisian night sky
Taking a walk along the breezy boulevard of the Champs Elysees
The romantic artists painting their subjects on Montmartres's quaint streets and alleys
The sun sets over the Seine and the City of Lights comes to life
poem by Salwa Nuseiba
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Eighteenth-Nineteenth Century Verse
France is the country of poems and prose
the lovely French language tells us so.
Romantic love in classical verse
dates back to Voltaire from days long ago.
The 18th century brought poets from Paris
writing about France and the Seine,
and so many other Parisian wonders
that lie in that fertile plain.
Yes France was a country of talent
In England, Wordsworth stole the scene
whilst Coleridge, another fine English poet
wrote lyrical verse about Pastures Green.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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My Father
Judy collins
Original lyrics by judy collins
My father always promised me
That we would live in france
Wed go boating on the seine
And I would learn to dance
We lived in ohio then
He worked in the mines
On his dreams like boats
We knew we would sail in time
All my sisters soon were gone
To denver and cheyenne
Marrying their grownup dreams
The lilacs and the man
I stayed behind the youngest still
Only danced alone
The colors of my fathers dreams
Faded without a sound
And I live in paris now
My children dance and dream
Hearing the ways of a miners life
In words theyve never seen
I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the seine
And watch the paris sun
As it sets in my fathers eyes again
My father always promised us
That we would live in france
Wed go boating on the seine
And I would learn to dance
I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the seine
And watch the paris sun
As it sets in my fathers eyes again
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night was coming
Night was coming
with a piercing huge orange sun
breaking through
white and black clouds
in the west.
It found a gap
and the sun was hanging
like a orange ball
above the street
and it was blinding.
Cars passed barely visible
above the orange glare
and some had already
turned their lights on.
The sun dipped down
below some trees
and for a time
it glowed behind them
and soon it would be dark
and the first stars
were already appearing
and a full yellow moon
was rising,
but below bright lights
was already burning
right across the city
in colours of amber
streetlights
green, yellow and red
traffic lights,
blue lights flashing
on police cars
and almost every bright colour
caught on neon signs
while people came and went
to different destinations
some smiling and relaxed,
others in a hurry
and some others
locked in a world of their own.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Night In Paris
Sailing down the river Seine
the breeze of the cool Paris air runs through my skin.
In the city of lights, love is in the air.
Kissing couples awash in that lovers glow
as the calm waters flow,
sounds of laughter fills the air.
On this starry night of unbridled bliss
there is nothing that’s amiss
in this ambience of serenity and happiness.
poem by Lyndon Murray
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I'll wait for you in Paris
I'll wait for you in Paris
Under the mouth of the Eiffel tower
I'll wait under Van Gough's starry sky
I'll wait by the Mona Lisa's smile
I'll wait by the glitzy lights of the arms of the Moulin rouge
Here I'll always be waiting for you
I'll wait by the great doors of Notre Dame
Under the famous rose glass window
I'll wait for you by the frown of Arc de Triomphe
Standing above the lonely bones of the Unknown Soldier
I'll always wait for you
In this city where I have never died
I'll always wait for you
Till you are here by my side
poem by Guinevere Eveleigh
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Belles Of Paris
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Cest tres jolie en paris in the spring
Watching all the lovers walk along the seine
Pitch a penny in her like a wishing well
Feed the pigeons in the park near tour-eifelle
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Theres a chapel sacre coure in quaint montmarte
In the open air the painters show their art
In the restaurant sip a beaujolies
What a perfect way to spend a lovely day
Bells are ringing, soul of france
Bells are singing of romance
Sunday morning, hear the bells of notre dame
Watching belles jeunes filles and the handsome gendarmes
Near the arc de triomphe on the champs-elysees
Coffee and croissants in a sidewalk cafe
Some people go to see the races at deauville
Or weekend by the racing tides of mont san michelle
Some take the tour of chartres on an autobus
While the writers and the artists never leave mont parnasse
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris Song
Paris so beautiful at night
And during the day is beautiful also
The Eiffel Tower is located in the center of Paris
But all the flowers in Paris are blooming in the parks
And at la seine
Yes spring is heret in Paris
And I am enjoying the spring
But the flowers in the parks here in Paris are beautiful
Because they are a show of colors
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Paris I adorent
France, her mystery
Her history
Around each corner
A story unfolds
The quiteness of La Seine
The elaborateness of Le Tour Eiffel
Paris I adorent
As it is you I explore
We have developed rapport
En Paris ces't ma couer
En Paris ces't ma maison
One day we will meet again
One day we will meet again
Peter LeBuhn
poem by Peter LeBuhn
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City Lights
Oh oh I feel the city rhythm
Oh oh I love those city lights
But when the sun comes up
And the partys over
I dont care Im coming back tonight
To the bright city lights
Home from work got your money in your pocket
Pull on your boots brand new suit
If you had the chance youd hock it
For a night on the tiles
And a shot of midnight fever
Get off your back get on the track
Tune in your receiver oh oh
Oh oh I feel the city rhythm
Oh oh I love those city lights
But when the sun comes up
And the partys over
I dont care Im coming back tonight
To the bright city lights
Truck down the street feeling kinda funky
Get on the beat shuffle your feet
Never know you might get lucky
You got love on the brain
Flashing like a neon
Feed 'em a line
Give 'em a sign
Theyre looking for a come on oh oh
Oh oh I feel the city rhythm
Oh oh I love those city lights
But when the sun comes up
And the partys over
I dont care Im coming back tonight
To the bright city lights
No way to stop when the musics in your body
Into the night feel all right
No time for feeling sorry
You go down to the club
With the old familiar faces
Buy 'em a drink kick up a stink
Everybodys going crazy oh oh
Oh oh I feel the city rhythm
Oh oh I love those city lights
But when the sun comes up
And the partys over
I dont care Im coming back tonight
To the bright city lights
To the bright city lights
To the bright city lights
To the bright city lights
Oh I love those city lights
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parisian April
Rain drips icicily on Paris's April quay
As blossoms of cherry stir the misty air
The left bank ponders over cafe' au lait
While the whiff of tobacco releases the day's care
The Romantic, with the lonely, shares the night
In the distance the Tower of Eiffel stands tall
Overlooking the mortal city of inner light
And Notre dame's divinity cushions an atheist's fall
An artist's brush can impress the memory
A feeling bottled is a moment cherished
In a stolen kiss to wedding ceremony
That falls into a love so sadly blemished
Here for an eternity I am so lost
A solitary traveler in a dreamer's maze
The Seine riffles through years of human cost
Where Voltaire cursed revolution's bloody craze
poem by C.A. Morrow
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Bright Lights
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
As the world is round, the road is long
Ive trouble on my mind
Ill just keep on moving
Until the day comes round
The wind a blowing on my back
And my feet a flying
Flying down the road
Where the bright lights shine
Mondays in a pigtown
Tuesdays in a truck
Wednesdays a field of mud
And thursdays out of luck
Fridays rain clouds
Saturday flies by
Sunday comes shining
From a blue blue sky
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some towns are golden
Some towns are stained
Some towns are shadows
Fading in the rain
Some towns are rust
And some towns they gleam
Some towns are mad dogs
Some towns are a dream
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some dreams are hollow
Some dreams are cold
Some dreams are crazy
And some dreams are bold
Some dreams are bought
And other dreams are sold
Some dreams lie waiting
At the end of the road
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris with Her
What would it be like to go to Paris
on a whim with a woman
who is as mystical and magical
as the city of Love
What would it be like to sit at a Café
drinking our wine eating our cheese on
Avenue des Champs-Elysées but seeing only her
What would it be like to hold her hand
strolling over Pont Neuf to the Eiffel Tower
her hair swirling in the wind, d'issay Miyake
clouding my mind
What would it be like to hide in a corner
of Notre Dame Cathedral
and kiss her passionately her eyes holding mine
what would it be like to make love under a Paris moon
on the green grass of Champ de Mars with the woman I love
It would be Heaven.
poem by Barry Renee
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Poesie De Paris
Poesie de Paris
Current racing, yet the boat holds still;
moored fast beside the edges of the Seine.
Floating debris passes by, broken free
from rubbish dumped on the banks carelessly.
The ship’s bilge, rank! Disgorged
adds to the brown disturbed river.
Mistletoe Pom Poms hang unhindered
in the trees: stripped bare by winter solitude
now begins signs of being pushed aside-
to bear the inevitable advent of spring,
which will transform the rubbish
and the murky anguished water
to reveal, the reflection of the green
bedecked trees, garlanded, lining the river-
becoming a romantic dream lover once again
alive on the banks of the Seine.
The noisy strength of the engine’s wake up call,
cruising to Conflans in the misty morn, cold,
as we go, we can see the snow
resting on a distant field.
The boat joins the flow of the river
and a lone Magpie seeking the jewels of the night,
Is left behind
as we go to find the Versailles Château.
There, symmetrical flowerless boxed gardens-
apt for a cold day.
The palace in its gaudy grandeur
lures and welcomes us to view its splendour
and go away,
knowing, ’every dog has its day’.
All the Gods depicted in the ceilings- play
in heavenly grace,
While Napoleonic triumphs
(sent many to the grave)
show the apparent radiant beauty of Josephine,
when she was crowned his queen.
Ah! Charles-De- Gaulle- Etoile-
your mistresses too,
how can we view Paris tonight as you do?
In the dark The Tour Eiffel (a ‘mechano’ dream)
glistens and sparkles, feet astride,
all point towards the triumphant arc.
Where all the world’s widest roads,
go away from there, straight to the
Lights of the Night.
Straight to the paradise of fashion shops- hence,
The cat-walk fate holds the world in great suspense.
The motor car in shop windows sparkling clean;
Ferrari specials and the Grand Prix deluxe, pristine
models, till they meet the eight lane unmarked roads,
where a battle of a civil kind begins to devastate.
Straight to the Opera and the dance
where by chance, you may afford a seat.
The perfume and wine draws us near,
to savour the delights, or fear of the French cuisine.
And the fantastic fanfare of Paris by night.
Her mysteries, still, demurely garbed in mighty,
Military monuments, enhanced,
tell tales of history past,
saying give us the glory, first and last, we fought and won,
Vive La France!
By Kathleen Bartholomew (Feb 2005)
poem by Kathleen Bartholomew
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I came from the country, and when I came to the city, I was ridin' high, you know. I was seeing more lights than I ever dreamed to shine in the world. 'Cos where I came from, there wasn't too many lights. Bugs made a lot of light, but after that there wasn't no lights.
quote by John Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cathedral in the Thrashing Rain
(O mata fukitsunoru ame kaze.)
O another deluge of wind and rain.
Collar turned up, getting drenched in this splashing rain,
and looking up at you -- it's me, ...
it's that Japanese.
This morning
about daybreak the storm suddenly went violent, terrible,
and now is blowing through Paris from one end to the other.
I have yet to know the directions of this land.
(O mata fukitsunoru ame kaze.)
I don't even know which way this storm is facing. ...
Only because even today I wanted to stand here
and look up at you, Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris,
I came, getting drenched,
only because I wanted to touch you,
only because I wanted to kiss your skin, the stone, unknown to anyone.
O another deluge of wind and rain.
Though it's already time for morning coffee,
a little while ago I looked from the Pont-Neuf,
the boats on the Seine were still tied up to the banks, like puppies.
The leaves of the gentle plane trees shining in their autumn colors on the banks
are like flocks of buntings chased by hawks. ...
The chestnut trees behind you,
each time their heads ... get mussed up,
starling-colored leaves dance up into the sky. ...
All the square is like a pattern,
filled with flowing silver water, and isles of golden-brown burnt-brown leaves.
Then there's the noise of the downpour resounding in my pores.
It's the noise of something roaring, grinding. ...
With golden plane tree leaves falling all over my coat,
I'm standing in it.
Storms are like this in my country, Japan, too.
Only, we don't see you soaring.
O Nootorudamu, Nootorudamu ...
O Notre-Dame, Notre-Dame,
rock-like, mountain-like, eagle-like, crouching-lion-like cathedral,
reef sunk in vast air,
square pillar of Paris,
sealed by blinding splatters of rain, ...
O soaring in front, Notre-Dame de Paris,
it's me, ...
it's that Japanese.
My heart trembles now that I see you.
Looking at your form like a tragedy,
a young man from a far distant country is moved.
...
O another deluge of wind and rain. ...
Only the gargoyles ...
raise their paws, crane their necks,
bare their teeth, blow out burning fountains of breath. ...
O nanto iu ame kaze no shuuchuu.
O what a concentration of wind and rain. ...
How is the rooster at the top of the tall slender steeple doing? ...
O mata fukitsunoru ame kaze.
O another deluge of wind and rain.
Sono naka de hasseikikan omomi ni gasshiri to tatsu katedoraru ...
A cathedral standing in it
solid with the weight of eight centuries,
a mass of millions of stones piled and carved by believers of old.
A great scaffold for truth, sincerity, eternity.
You stand wordless. ...
You know the strength of nature's force ...
O cathedral in the thrashing rain ...
... wind and rain that took a breath and has driven itself harder,
all the instruments of the heavens gone berserk,
the dance swirls around ...
O cathedral, ...
you who watch motionless the houses of Paris suffering the storm,
please do not think me rude,
who, hands on your cornerstone,
has his hot cheek pressed on your skin,
it's me, the drunken one.
It's that Japanese.
poem by KotaroTakamura
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My Heart Was Filled With Your Words
The curtain rose on the stage, and I saw you standing there.
The lights above were shining down upon your ink black hair.
My heart proudly skipped a beat when you looked into my eyes,
and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise.
The women all about me were whispering sweet and low
of how much you looked like a prince within the stage-light glow.
I secretly smiled to myself, warmed by their devotion,
unseen in the shadowed curve that circled like the ocean.
I gazed upon you as the host introduced you by name.
I felt my temperature rise as though a heated flame.
Walking over to the mike, you quick-coughed to clear your throat.
All the room was silent then as you spoke the words you wrote.
paris elegy
by larry jaffe
her reflection
forever imprinted
in the looking glass
despite her leaving
for pigalle
he missed her terribly
they skated on
the thin ice of decadence
for so long it seemed
like second nature
to seek danger
in his safe autocratic fashion
nevertheless he denied nothing
and faced her empty mirror
every day his face in his hands
cushioning the blow of her loss
the seine no longer romantic hideaway
they tell me they see through your gossamer wings
and you cannot fly
The crazy winds of cheer and applause filtered through the room.
I was lost inside of love, the lull of passion in bloom.
You gave a bow and thanked the crowd, then waved your hands good-night.
You stepped off the stage and came to me to my heart's delight.
My breath was held inside of me like quiet little bells,
like the leaves floating on the face of deep and silent wells.
You placed your hand under my chin and looked into my eyes,
and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise.
My love was reaching out to you like hands across the Seine;
and all at once, I knew my wings would lift to fly again.
The night, the world, and two bright stars glisten over the sea.
It is the secret passageway we find in poetry.
poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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