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Best French Poems

Below are the all-time best French poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of French poems written by PoetrySoup members

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| Details | French Poem | |

Frank Todo French-Fry

This is the story of the daredevil, Frank Todo French-Fry. He thought he was special, thought he could fly But one day he was taken and placed on my plate He did not want to be eaten; he did not want this fate So, with hope and courage he leapt to the floor I was sad a fry had fallen from my plate, but it was okay ‘cause I had more I picked up this fry, set him aside on a napkin to throw him away later But my best friend Laura wanted to keep him, give him something greater And thus he became, Laura’s pet fry Known forever as Frank Todo French-Fry And he lives in a small purse Where he continually rehearses a blank verse He ages, and decays, safely tucked away Glad to have been saved that fateful day From being eaten, tossed in the trash, or even forgotten Now his moldy potato frame, is bandaged and rotten But Frank Todo French-Fry still lives To this very day, somewhere misplaced in storage, he still lives

| Details | French Poem | |

Wolf Moon (French Sonnet)

Amid the cold and icy winds of snow
their hunger howls outside where prey is short
the hunters call to the moon for support,
as packs still gather in her lunar glow.
In depths of Winter when the winds still blow
my Celtic kin revel as Gods' consort
around the fires of ancient tribal court
with wine and song their stories freely flow.
So shines the Full Wolf Moon across the sky
to light the Hunters' path as witches fly
The answer sought when howling their lament.
when first full Moon each year is gleaming high
the wheel is turning from the Winter's cry
and Spring shall bring an ease to its torment.

| Details | French Poem | |

The French Revolution: A Sonnet

Revolution – popular discontent –
From which revolt of third estate arose
Of burden’d citizens which all resent;
Monarch’s frivolities must be disposed.
Committee of public safety, in charge,
Dooms all to die at Jacobin command –
The guillotine strikes fear, makes numbers large
Embrace of death that variance demands.
All are ruled under the directory,
With those that led now dead, missing their heads.
Among them, none could guess trajectory
Of the directory torn now to shreds

Through one man, emperor by self ordained:
       The great Napoleon, o’er France to reign.

| Details | French Poem | |

thoughts of a lonely French girl on a winter's day

Sweet violins play-
My heart rests at bay and
The trees outside my Window change colors-
As December, like a Hopeless Lover
Runs after May.

And Mother always told me to
Keep my Doors open but the
Pests kept inviting
Themselves in
And Possibility always rang my Doorbell
And then ran away.

Always a single cup of coffee and not two
at the café.
And the ashes of these cigarettes
Left the figure of a heart who’s flames
Took its life away.

No one to share these poems and
Stories with but this Berry Parfait.

The Wind Chime jingles
The Wine Glasses click
And my neighbors’ drunken laughter
Fills the Hallways
While sweet violins play-
My heart rests at bay and
The trees outside my window change colors-
As December, like a Hopeless Lover
runs after May.

| Details | French Poem | |

The French General

His guard couldn’t help snitchin’ When he washed grenades in his kitchen. This general had a hazardous heart, His name: Linoleum Blownapart.

| Details | French Poem | |

Catch Me If You Can French Sonnet

<               enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
                 fourty years later someone else now cares for them
                 fresh cut daily and seen in her arms their long stems
                 tears streaming down face I sit under swollen moon
                 waiting watching for sun to come up again soon
                 to catch one more glimsp of mama's planted old gems
                 unfurling petals before been chopped or condemned
                 think I'll ask if can take one for my dining room

                 aroma bursting amidst thy supper's table
                 bowed heads we come and thank our Heavenly father
                 somebody still cared though sick and times unable
                 and answers it's door for which one has come bothered
                 to let bask in roses empowering fable
                 and not to be called as it's one's roses robber

French Sonnet is a poem with rhyme scheme
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.

| Details | French Poem | |

A Good French Poem

A Good French Poem

I’m tall, lovely, Black and Brunette.
I’m good not petite.
Happy and healthy.
Strong person.
Whole person.
Like a whole apple, I can eat…

| Details | French Poem | |

Girl in the French Quarter

Dere once was a goil in da Quawta
Who never did do what she oughtta.
She stripped down one night
--Dat was really a sight--
Till NOPD come and caughtta!

| Details | French Poem | |


bathed in August sun
one by one,a curled leaf falls-
Autumn has begun

 haiku me a nature poem please contest- Brian Strand

Premium Member Poem | Details | French Poem | |

Thursdays Recalled By the Family's French Fry Girl

The number of us children growing up was eight. Each Thursday night was special, for our Dad got paid, and we would eagerly and hungrily await his bringing Henry’s fries and burgers home. Hurray! We weren’t allowed to pick and choose; we had to take two burgers each with “everything” and one bag of fries. While we grabbed our own allotment, happy to partake, Jenny scraped off from her burgers -onions she despised! Dori chewed so slowly, from her we all would steal. The baby, Theadora, just sat there and played with her food. I was strange and always made this deal: Both my burgers for two brothers’ French fries I would trade. And so the number of my French fries always came to three. Even with no burgers, I loved each Thursday night. for the Henry’s fast food and time with family. Oh, to go back to those days with loved ones in my sight!
*Henry's Hamburgers was the name of a fast food place in my hometown For Paula Swanson's "Traditions" Poetry Contest