French Sad Poems | French Poems About Sad
These French Sad poems are examples of French poems about Sad. These are the best examples of French Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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hand of a
face down with flying
bullets spraying the room,
killing, striking so many
innocents frozen in terror.
As I fled I realized she was
dead from terrorist's merciless melee.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Note: I wrote this about a recent story on the news that
touched me deeply. I am praying for all those who are suffering.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015
pour it like the sun is dead.
before shaking it well.
wat is je naam?
my father is half-Dutch.
stay with me, Martinique
(that name tag is lovely)
I have not been happy.
little umbrellas tickle
my imagination -
Gibraltar or Ithaca
or Room 143 beside yours.
is this safe, Martinique?
fifteen proof is my ceiling
but I do not care.
your skin ring matches mine.
Ik ben blij,
but I do not speak French.
Copyright © Arch Ilagan | Year Posted 2009
GIRL IN PARISIENNE FOG
All evening fog is settled from the ground,
not right in where it goes, nor where it's found;
the Seine makes distance to each barren tree
unmeasured from the mind to what should be,
and blended to the world that's all around.
And from the limestone walls, echos the tap
of femininity, in evening wrap;
she's hurried, lest the night finds her alone
and vulnerable to legends she has known;
yet she's desirous of what couldn't hap.
The corner street lamps lend their halo'd light
grotesque in their own way, as if they might
leap out of time and drag her by the throat
and cast her down into a timeless moat,
where she would die alone 'for ends this night.
She clutches to her breasts, where minds go mad,
as if it's all the love they've ever had,
but she will cry all night, when she's alone
into the pillow love has never known,
and that's what makes her tale so very sad.
Her plea's for love, that doesn't have to end,
like only dreamers deem to comprehend,
but all she finds are bodies falling on
what she has sold from evening to the dawn,
and not a one could be even a friend.
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015