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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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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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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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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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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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La Seine

There once was a fellow named Harris,
a comedian whose wife was called Clarice.
They performed on a stage
with old Rolf in a cage
and she took him (so clever) to Paris.

On the top of the Eiffel Tower
when the clock struck the twenty-third hour,
he was left in the rain
looking down on the Seine
but he really had needed the shower.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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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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Crescent Moon Over Over The Eiffel Tower

First I think of Jesus, or not actually Jesus,
but the vapour trail from a jet, which makes
a line across the hard sky parallel with the top
of my window, which makes me think of Apollinaire
who said in a poem that Jesus is the holder
of the world high altitude record, a truly modern
aviator, and that’s how I think of Jesus,
being in Paris and all, the thing with Apollinaire.
But I’m looking at the line the vapour trail makes,
which way up in the sky would form a perfect T
with the tip of the Eiffel Tower (the tip of the
Tour Eiffel sounds better in a poem) if the Tour Eiffel
were a fair whack higher. You know what I mean:
blue symmetries of summer. And then I notice,
and here’s what the poem’s about, when my eyes
are making the imaginary T, just above the point
where my imaginary much higher Tour Eiffel
would meet the vapour trail, a crescent moon.
A crescent moon so thin and faint it’s almost not there
in the hot white Paris sky. But it is there,
and it’s above the Eiffel Tower, pardon,
la Tour Eiffel, and it’s above the vapour trail
that Jesus in a jet has made. What do I learn
from this experience? Well, in two weeks’ time,
if the weather holds, and it should, there’ll be
a fat full moon over Paris, and I’m up the hill
in Montmartre, with a view to fucking die for.
I can see three quarters of the sky, so I’m sure
that around two weeks from now, one way
or another, I’ll be seeing that fat full moon.
And this is a thought that is not at all unpleasant.

poem by Luke Davies
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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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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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Les Fleurs des Mots: Le Genre de Place

Femmes sont Seine,
Universite,
Paris, Place,
Cathedral,
Avenue et Rue;
Aussi Tour Eiffel.
Hommes sont Centre,
Restaurant,
Musee, Metro et Hotel.

poem by Douglas Scotney
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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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Paris By Night

I’ve decided to spend a few days away,
To celebrate one of life’s big birthdays.
So, here I am in the famous ‘city of love’,
Wrapped up in my coat, scarf and gloves.

I’m at the Eiffel Tower, up on the second floor;
Taking in the City’s panoramic views, with awe.
I text my friends, but my fingers are frozen cold;
So that my mobile, my hand can hardly now hold.

Being less than a week into the brand New Year,
It isn’t long before the daylight begins to disappear.
It’s nearly six o’clock and, soon, the tour bus departs,
So my descent of the Tower, in earnest, now starts.

But, when I reach the bottom, I find I’m a little too late:
The back of the tour bus is just pulling out of the gate.
At first, I feel worried, and I admit, just a little bit scared,
But, the sights I see are ones, which, are beyond compare.

If I’d caught the bus, I’d have missed these sights:
Sights, which fill my soul with such sheer delight.
I see the bright lights on the Eiffel Tower flicker away;
It’s a delightful sight, and now I’m glad that I stayed.

I decide that, missing the bus, was a blessing in disguise,
As I tuck into the visual feast, set before my very eyes.
The long walk back is pretty long, and really very cold;
Unlike pairs of lovers, I have no warm hand, which, to hold.

I see the tall, illuminated, obelisk and the observation wheel;
My excited eyes are greatly enjoying this rich, cultural meal.
I see the glass pyramid at The Louvre, gently glowing blue;
If I had managed to catch the bus, I’d have missed this too.

I work my way back to the banks of the mighty River Seine,
And glance at the stunning buildings opposite, again and again.
The important buildings and monuments are all shrouded in light:
I snap away with my camera, attempting to capture this very night.

Each time I stumble across a new and glorious sight,
I say a soft, whispered ‘wow! ’ into the darkened night.
Further up river, at Chatelet Metro station, I board the next train.
Memories of what I’ve seen tonight, forever, with me, will remain.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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december in Paris

December Paris

Winter Paris pavement cafés vacant chairs and poor sparrows look for
baguette crumbs. Artists had gone to their loft conversions, in bed with
their models and plates of goose liver pate, waiting for a better time.
I came across a posh bistro people inside wore silk suits, doors locked;
invitation only. A famous philosopher came out, said something deep
about peace- in broken English- then asked where the camera was.
When he saw I wasn’t a journalist he said: Merde, and walked back in.
At the bookshop Shakespeare, academic tourists had assembled they
looked through books of famous writers, thought of saying that two of
my poetry collections were there, but they looked so educated, wore
capes of superiority and poetry workshop shoes I lost my nerve. Rain,
found a bistro at a side street, had coffee with an Armagnac, thought
of the days when Ernest Hemingway scribbled away here, other writers
too, when Paris was not so haughtily conscious of her artistic status.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Dreamin'

Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like I'm blind, it's all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
'Cause there's a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I'm sailing like a ship on the sea
I don't care if I'm lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
Time's the enemy
That you never see
Won't you come slip away
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
Yeah
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
Yeah
I am only dreaming
Dreaming

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris: I Do! I Do!

How much I love you
Paris I do! I do!
With this ring I thee wed
Forever joy you spread
I love you Dearly
My temple, my clergy
You swept me away
A tsunami in May
Again and again
My runaway train
What is it about your loins?
The love that never coils
Awakens the beat in me
Heart of my destiny
Your streets a poet's dream
Café au lait rich cream
Your Champ Elysées
Mon jardin des Pensée
Oh oui mon amour, je pense à toi
toujours, le matin, midi et soir
Votre belle dentelle en blanc et noir
Pardonnez-moi Père frère Jacques
If I purposely don't mention your Rock
If I need to fast and pray
Paris artsy books my sway
River Seine's left bank I search
Tour Eiffel my only church
Paris street cafés pure magic
Gossip tongues laugh and tragic
Overtures to my ears delight
Listens how they recite
Brahms' one 'Tragic'
And his 'Academic'
Excuse moi mon Cher Claude
For dissing your pie a la mode
And not loving your 'Claire'
Essence of chocolate éclair
There is only one love
All envy from above
In my beating heart
Wish list pulsing art
My bewitching Paris
Heart and soul of Bacchus
Defines my time
Ends my rhyme
Paris I love you
I do! I do! I do!

poem by leaking Pen
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Dreaming

Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like Im blind, its all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
Im only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
Im only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, cant tell the daylight from the night
Im only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
cause theres a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
Im only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
Im only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, cant tell the daylight from the night
Im only dreaming, dreaming
Im sailing like a ship on the sea
I dont care if Im lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
(? )come dream of me(? ), that you never see
Wont you come slip away
[solo] I am only dreaming
Im only dreaming (x 6)
Dreaming
Dreaming.

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Second Excursion

Second Excursion (Edit Piaf)

Fighting my way through the Metro and jostling
with rude French commuters I found my way back
to where Edith was born. The street was now entirely
Taken over by the Chinese, and best of all several
weddings were going on. The Chinese really can
throw a party, noise, laughter and lovely brides.
While I sat on the steps outside Edith’s house, her
voice came back to me – the offensive blue rinsed
man had not succeeded after all.
It was a beautiful autumnal day and together Edith
and I walked to a park overlooking Paris and saw,
at safe distance, the Fabled Eifel tower looking old,
yet elegant in glorious sunlight.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Paris in Spring

The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.

I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen,
And down the Champs the gray old arch
Stands cold and still between.
But the walk is flecked with sunlight
Where the great acacias lean,
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And the leaves are growing green.

The sun's gone in, the sparkle's dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time's come again.

poem by Sara Teasdale
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Champagne Si, Agua No

Folks, gull reef regrets the water shortage.
Wild night out there!
Water in the sea, water from the sky, no water in the club,
But while the pump gets repaired, lets live!
If the water cant flow, the wine can!
Champagne party in the lobby!
Champagne si, agua no
Let it rain, let it blow
To hell with the h2o
Champagne si, agua no
The gull reef clubs not too ship shape
Time for a party time for a break
Tonight all our troubles will soon disappear
Cause champagne is cheaper than water down here
Champagne si, agua no
Champagne si, agua no
A toast to the french who gave us these bubbles
A toast to your host who stands in this rubble
Running this hotel is no piece of cake
So cut me some slack people give me a break
Champagne si, agua no
Champagne si,agua no
A toast to columbus, arawaks and caribs
To pirates and patriots, rascals and thieves,
The limbo, the cha cha and what we love most
A free champagne party put on by our host
Champagne si, agua no
Champagne si, agua no

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(My Mother) Retirement Plans

“When I grow old, ” said my mother, “I’ll change my life.
I’ll rent a garret on the Left Bank of the Seine
in Paris, give up being a mother and a wife,
spend my days painting, drink red wine all night,
my friends will be artists - maybe I’ll write.

“But what about Dad? ” I objected.
My mother reflected.
“He’ll be okay, ” she said.
“He’ll buy a djellabi, sandals, a scarab
and live in the desert, along with the Arabs.
He’s learning the lingo at evening class.
He’ll go over to Gaza” – I thought, what a gas!

I’d spend April in Paris, winter with Dad –
there was going to be some fun to be had!
I hoped that my parents’ dreams all would come true –
but after all that they just moved down to Bude!

poem by Janice Windle
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