Best Camille Poems


Camille

Howling, shrieking winds
thirty foot tsunami
swallowing the land...

Hurricane Camille
Biloxi/Gulfport/Bay St. Louis, MS
August 17-18, 1969
Deaths: 259
Tidal Surge: 28 ft.
Est. Wind speed: 225+MPH (The wind instruments were destroyed at 200 mph) Imagine an F-5 tornado reaching across most of the Mississippi Gulf Coast...Add a 28 ft. tidal wave to that and you can imagine the destructive force of Camille. Those who witnessed the aftermath of this storm said it looked like an atomic bomb had been dropped
Recommended reading: Accounts of the hurricane party at Richelieu Apartments in Pass Christian, MS

Camille

She was out there
out there in the dark
A brooding monster
deciding where to attack
Her fuel and her ammo:
Waters, warm Gulf waters

She attacked...
Howling, shrieking winds
Thirty feet of churning sea
A thirty foot tidal wave
A thirty foot Tsunami
swallowing the land...

Sent to purge?
Sent to cleanse?
Sent to teach?
God only knows
God and the Daughter
Mighty Mother Nature...

but she was horrible
horrible and beautiful...

Hurricane Camille
Biloxi/Gulfport/Bay St. Louis, MS
August 17-18, 1969
Deaths: 259
Tidal Surge: 28 ft.
Est. Wind speed: 225+MPH (The wind instruments were destroyed at 200 mph) Imagine an F-5 tornado reaching across the entire Mississippi Gulf Coast...Add a 28 ft. storm surge to that and you can imagine the destructive force of Camille. Those who witnessed the aftermath of the storm said it looked like an atomic bomb had been dropped.
Of the 259 deaths, 113 were caused in the state of Virginia due to catastrophic flooding...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBsHreetAe4

Camille

She was out there in the dark
A brooding, angry monster
She attacked, screaming in fury
Wind gauges flattened and futile
She came to purge, to cleanse...

*Wind speed estimated at 230 MPH 
Sumitted for: Black Eyed Susan's contest


Camille On Her Deathbed

Her diminished and shading features 
As if shrouded within a cocoon or now masked
Graduations of colour that death was successively imposing on her motionless features
Dimming her bouquet of red flowers that seem to float away from her
© Nigel Fox  Create an image from this poem.

Camille

Wake up to find its not just a dream, 
the morning rips a new wound of reality. 
Forever gone, Forever missing, 
All the regrets building up inside of me. 
I could have been better, 
cause you were the best, 
I love you with everything 
now you took your last breath. 
You went, happily 
and chased the birds over that rainbow bridge, 
I hope your watching from above c
ause when you left you took a part of my heart

...RIP My Beautiful Puppy. I Love You Camille Baby?

Camille Desmoulins Fall of the Bastille

Camille Desmoulins was a poet at the time of the French Revolution,
his enthusiastic speeches were practically the trigger for
the inspiring Revolution of other revolutions ... he acted together
to his inseparable friend DANTON in l789:

Every revolution has its day,
every change has its time,
the eld leaves, it has to follow ...
the new always arrives and
installs ... the eld leaves for
its reality, faces the truth
with sadness or gallantry, or
tranquility...
France, cradle of Enlightenment:
Liberté ... Egalité ... Fraternité ...
1789 will be remembered ever
 not to forget  ... a milestone
of universal history ... 1789 ...
a poet ... a speech ...
Stutterer from birth, Desmoulins
with his geue, his verve ... he preached,
he who had already screamed for
female vote before, preached
for the republic ...
at his side DANTON, companion
from other eras ... in ancient Greece,
 prisca eras: Spartacus and his
faithful squire ... through the ages
always together, always companions.
In the passages, noble causes
defended ... came the revolution
 in France ... the victory and the guillotine ...
Victory has been achieved, his head
beheaded ...
Today in the present life, Desmoulins
is a journalist in Rio de Janeiro,
Danton engineer in Sao Paulo ...
according to the spiritists ...
Desmoulins spoke and the Bastille
fell ... the king fell ... the republic
arrived in France ...
Today the fight is spiritual, it is for
aggrandizement, development
moral of the human being ... today the
mission is to instruct man to
divine truths, for progress
spiritual...
One day Camille said on occasion
before the scaffold:
EDAMUS ET BIBAMOS CRAS,
ENIN MORIEMUR ...!


 PS sugestões Song

Caroline cherie Aznavour

   https://youtu.be/lLZq4ZoF7qQ


Camille

Jealous of the land,
howling and screaming with rage
She came in the night...

***Mississippi Gulf Coast - August, 1969
Estimated wind speed: 200 MPH

My Lost Camille

Her diminished and
shading features 
As if shrouded
within a cocoon or
now masked
Graduations of
colour that death
was successively
imposing on her
motionless features
Dimming her bouquet
of red flowers that
seem to float away
from her
© Nigel Fox  Create an image from this poem.

That Camille Appeal

She will let you have it
The truth that is
She will do it with humor
When necessary
But do not get it twisted
Truth is her game
She does not mince words
She’ll say what needs to be said
So before you run for cover,
Listen to what she has to say
She will hit you over the head
Until you figure it out
She has no need to shout
She will let loose with a bevy of truth
You have no choice but listen
She will do it with zeal
For she has that Camille Appeal

Camille Sitting On the Garden Bench

A girl so lovely 
She never knew my adoration and desire
Circumstance and shyness did deny me more
My young heart
© Nigel Fox  Create an image from this poem.

Camille

Pigeon streets,
Meander through
An ancient town,
The summer heat
Brings them down.
Pay attention,
Watch them thrive,
Enough for all
To go around,
Addict town,
They rarely sing
Or spread their wings.

Oh Camille, soft and real,
who are you, what do you feel?

Camille

I dress like her and listen to music I think she might like just so i don’t feel completely alone. 

She wasn’t even that kind. Or thoughtful. She was just hurt. And I like to think she would understand me. So I keep her in my pocket, like some kind of sacred amulet. Or maybe one of those little woven worry dolls that are supposed to ease your troubles. I hold her close to my face and I whisper my heartbreaks and sorrows and trivial inconveniences to her. 

Sitting in a parked car in the Walgreens parking lot I cry silently and clutch at her nothingness and watch the as old homeless woman pushes her cart across the dark pavement. 

And then I start the car, and drive home without turning on my headlights. I have work tomorrow. I do need my beauty sleep, you know.

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