About The Poet
I also
dig
the French
they
speak from
their
bellies.
poem by Jerome Moore
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I met my wife through playing golf. She is French and couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak French, so there was little chance of us getting involved in any boring conversations - that's why we got married really quickly.
quote by Sean Connery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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French women have been made beautiful by the French people - they're very aware of their bodies, the way they move and speak, they're very confident of their sexuality. French society's made them like that.
quote by Charlotte Rampling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The more English is heard in the world, the more gratifying it seems to speak French, and above all to know the culture of our country. They find a kind of French social grace in the language and culture.
quote by Bernard Pivot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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French, The Language Of Love
French, the Language of Love.
Darling, speak French to me when we make love, wicked words
I don’t understand, but have a whispering meaning of delight.
I stand before you with salutial erection, a soldier of love ready
to sacrifice myself for your subterranean pleasure.
Your wishes have to be expressed in French or the steed’s chase
will not react with proper force, It will think it’s time to go back
into the stable, hanging about, wondering what went wrong.
At the subway in Paris I was in the way of a woman who wanted
to exit, she swore at me, thinking it were words of love, I kissed
her and was arrested. But released, though when they understood
I was a foreigner, lost in the baffling ways of the French idiom.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Tarzan: It is a long story, but it was I who wrote what I could not speak — and now D'Arnot has made matters worse by teaching me to speak French instead of English.
line from Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs (1912)
Submitted by Dan CostinaÅŸ
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I am a guest of the French language. My poems in French are born of my interaction with the French language, which is not the same as that of a French poet.
quote by Tahar Ben Jelloun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two cows deconstruct Derrida
These two cows were ruminating
and one says, I was listening
to the milkmaid’s transistor
and this French philosopher
was explaining that there’s
no English translation of the French word
‘betise’ except ‘stupidity’ but
‘stupidity’ only refers to man
where the French ‘betise’ means
to behave like an animal…
and the other cow says
well what’s wrong with that
and the first cow says
well his point is, English cows
can’t be stupid; only man
can be stupid..
and the other cow says
well that’s a relief then
so does that mean that French cows
can be stupid
and the first cow says
no because they don’t have a word for it
in French
so the other cow says
so then is it better to be
an English cow
that can’t be stupid
or a French cow
that can’t be called stupid
and the first cow says
who cares, I’ve always said
the French ruminate too much
and then talk bullshit…
and the other cow says
I’m glad I’m a Jersey
what about that French milkmaid
I call sexyhands but
the farmer sometimes calls
a silly cow I wonder what
Derrida would say about that
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Full Lips That Kiss
it is cold tonight
and it was only our good fortune
that let me find this place for us to sleep
and blankets and i have your warm breasts
and you brought other friends that you say
need to be made full as well
knowing i have a special fondness for soft ever growing
bellies filled thus with mine and free milk
though it works i know both ways and you have told them
that it takes much, much more for me to give out to they
and while i sleep it flows how like rivers it all flows
and such are the lips in need that one never feels them
as they move with such firm purpose and while one
holds the stones and the other squeezes one then
the other untill it is made freely thus
and already i have many soft bellies filled thus and some
few their milk is sweeter but i say nothing as preferably
and i sleep now with my belly full of rich milk as they forage
furring the day..and life is as it once was and as it should be
and hard ship all around us
and we all sleep warmly and contently knowing
that it is thus
and even now one is in need and being responsible, i sleep.
while all around me the bellies are kicking and pushing.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Same Story, The same History
...and so the same story is told
the same history is made....
why always speak of descrimination
why always speak of war
why always speak of class
why always speak of injustice
why always speak of poverty
why always speak of rebellion....
why not speak of equality
why not speak of peace
why not speak of respect
why not speak of wisdom
why not speak of production
why not speak of working together...
...and so the same story is told
the same history is made.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Do you wish people to think well of you? Don't speak.
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VIII
I will sit down awhile in dalliance
With my dead life, and dream that it is young.
My earliest memories have their home in France,
The chestnut woods of Bearn and streams among,
Where first I learned to stammer the French tongue.
Fair ancient France. No railroad insolence
Had mixed her peoples then, and still men clung
Each to his ways, and viewed the world askance.
We, too, as exiles from our northern shore,
Surveyed things sparsely; and my own child's scorn
Remained, how long, a rebel to all lore
Save its lost English, nor was quite o'erborne
Till, as I swore I'd speak no French frog's word,
I swore in French, and so laid down my sword.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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He who cannot speak well of his trade does not understand it.
What an Irony
My nation is celebrating good harvest this season
Behind tones of grains lying rotten
Insects having feast on them
Highest courts have ordered to distribute,
Why waste them
Who are bothered, swollen bellies unattended?
Record breaking harvest on one side,
People dying of hunger other side...
What an irony...
Hunger bellies caught in dirty politics
Who is bothered, everyone self centered
The court rightly said
Even god cannot save this country...
poem by Jisha Viswam
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I speak French fluently, so that really helped.
quote by Noah Hathaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never speak of a rope in the house of one who was hanged.