Best Piaf Poems
POTD 27 Sept 2023
~LOVE SAID ~
"Go find her, set her free."
In my search, I found an array of colourful petals,
An abundance of aromatic aromas.
Each one, I hydrated with my blood and tears,
But each one pricked me with their thorns.
Fatigued ~ pondering an end to my quest,
I prepared for a life without a petal of my own.
A voice whispered ~
"Look this way."
And there you were
Glimmering under twilight's delight,
So I planted you in my heart,
So you can blossom in an ocean of love...
by The Silent One
And Maria Williams
French Lyric translation
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
(When he takes me in his arms)
Il me parle de tout bas
(he speaks to me softly)
Je vois la vie en rose
(I see life in pink)
Every time you kiss me, Heaven sighs
Il me dit des mots d'amour
(he tells me words of love)
Don't know why
Des mots de tous les jours
(everyday words)
I close my eyes
Et ça m'fait quelque chose
(and it touches me)
If only you would
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
(The life in pink)
Some amazing talents come together here.
Thank you Silent One for your collaboration with me on this creative poem.
Ron Williams, for video direction and composition, which we put together.
And to David Luke for his excellent narration.
Attributions:
Lyrics by Edith Piaf
Music and vocal:
Michael Bublé & (feat. Cécile McLorin Salvant)
Album La vie en rose
Licenced by You tube
Categories:
piaf, dedication, feelings, love, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Des Nuits d'Amour
A fine tablecloth, Lenox china,
sterling dinner ware.
Tall, elegant candles in shiny
golden candelabras.
Un chantes, d' amour fill the
starry night that I can smell in your
heavenly hair.
The songs of Piaf and Aznavour
soften me, caught in this love-lair.
Massages and sultry kisses.
A sink full of unwashed dishes.
It's time we dance, mon trevor!
Blow out the candles and close the
doors!
So that, we can, in sweet silence,
become one with the stars.
Simply, gorgeous you and I!
In overwhelming desire,
to quench our insatiability.
Those glorious moments of fulfilling
our hearts' utmost desires.
05/01/2023
Categories:
piaf, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Forty three years of marriage and still you make my heart beat strong
I never wanted to be anything else but your wife and loving song
Together we walked, jogged and trotted but most of all we danced,
to the rhythm of our first hello. Every loving act was a show of love;
When we were young we danced between sleepless nights and drank
the brew of life as if it were a fox trot of maelstrom haze;
Then the kids left home and we found ourselves alone again,
Phonographic unused cylinders of time crooned again
with love songs from Edith Piaf;
You wrapped your arms around my waist and gave me a beginners taste
Life had been good to us but oh how we lived it in such haste...,
Then we got a second chance, and we did it just so
losing ourselves on the living room floor,
we danced like newly weds on their wedding day;
That was the last time we danced together without goodbyes,
today all I own is an old phonograph, and yesterday's slow sighs.
July 13, 2021
Categories:
piaf, longing, love,
Form:
Free verse
(INSPIRED IN PART BY A SONG BY THE GREAT FRENCH 'SOUL SINGER', EDITH PIAF)
Should we praise the chanteuse
who sang "I regret nothing"?
Was she a saint or a sociopath?
Did she forget the peccadilloes,
the slights, the insults and harsh
words we are so prone to?
I regret so much, so very, very much:
the chanced shaking of another's heart,
the deafness to her tears, the blindness
to her unsung lamentations--
too much a coward to love,
I would run, run away,
even jumping an ocean to flee
what was between her and me....
Now, aging, I regret I cannot make
amends to those lost loves.
I cannot say, "I am sorry, I was weak,
in fear of your love--
forgive me... forgive me."
Categories:
piaf, age, angst, girlfriend, love
Form:
Free verse
Yesterday for my birthday,
I started off
with a bottle of wine...
I took the train
into town...
I had half a bitter
at the Cafe de Piaf
in Waterloo...
I went to work
for a couple of hours or so;
I had a pint after work;
I went for an audition;
after the audition,
I had another pint
and a half;
I had another half,
before meeting my mates,
for my b'day celebrations;
we had a pint together;
we went into
the night club,
where we had champagne
(I had three glasses);
I had a further
glass of vino,
by which time,
I was so gone
that I drew an audience
of about thirty
by performing a solo
dancing spot
in the middle
of the disco floor...
We all piled off to the pub
after that,
where I had another drink
(I can't remember
what it was)...
I then made my way home,
took the bus from Surbiton,
but ended up
in the wilds of Surrey;
I took another bus home,
and watched some telly,
and had something to eat
before crashing out...
I really, really enjoyed
the eve, but today,
I've been walking around
like a zomb;
I've had only one drink today,
an early morning
restorative effort;
I spent the day working,
then I went to a bookshop,
where, like a monk,
I go for a day's
drying out session...
Drying out is really awful;
you jump at every shadow;
you feel dizzy,
you notice everything;
very often,
I don't follow through.
(There's a twilight mood to "Lone Birthday Boy Dancing" - almost certainly drafted in diary form on 8 October 1992, or perhaps a year earlier - with the birthday boy performing his Dionysian solo dance in defiance of the wholesale ruin of mind, body and soul he's so obviously invoking.)
Categories:
piaf, addiction, birthday, dance, dark,
Form:
Free verse
Un peu piaf, rien de rien.
One makes memories, what do they mean?
Our small sparrow shall not fly again
when those notes fall on persons unseen.
Nothing for nothing, the time they spend
taking these steps, we can climb too tall.
In searching this earth to find one friend
much does not matter, not much at all.
Her vibrato voice marches to a trill
Edith's soulful songs mourn nothing then.
Tragic lyrics bend our heartfelt will
so truly too, rien de rien.
The torch of love light rises above her
God unites those who love each other.
A tribute poem to Edith Piaf (1915 - 1963),
the most popular singer in French history
Sonnet 98 words 9/4/21
Categories:
piaf, allegory, bird, french, love,
Form:
Sonnet
a dulcet dreamy rendition
of sweet symphony
paints a cosmic light
inciting the sleepy moon
over the silvery sea
as music soars~
I see clouds descending
to kiss the silky shore
resting on his bosom
and as the music fades,
I hear him sings "La Vie En Rose"
in soft serenading tenor~
Oh, my life begins to glow in pink.
Notes: "La Vie en Rose" (French for '"Life in pink"') is the signature song of popular French singer Édith Piaf, written in 1945,[1] popularized in 1946, and released as a single in 1947. ( Info credits to Wikipedia). This ekphrasis is based on Richard Clayderman's performance on piano.
5 February 2022
A Strand (1066) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand strand
1st place
Categories:
piaf, appreciation, love, music,
Form:
Ekphrasis
BRIDGES
There are those problematically structured:
Garth Brooks had burning bridges “one by one”,
London’s was always falling down, ruptured,
Paul Simon over troubled water would “lay him down”.
But there are also excellent bridges in no peril:
Like those of Madison County
Peopled tenderly by Eastwood Clint and Streep Meryl,
And those in Paris under which the bounty
Of Edith Piaf would make your dreams come true.
Categories:
piaf, funny,
Form:
Verse
Paris is this:
A comedian
on the street an accordion
that empties it"s
songs on the Seine ...
Summer is in the square,
From La Concorde or
anywhere, and the boulevards
crowded with cars
rolling ...
On the table bottle
fine wine !
On the street beggars to controversy
the politics everywhere ...
They are always :
in train to discuss ...!
A decadent painter
paints a unique bleu sky,
two skinny italian
Chanel parade
on the sidewalk....
In the alley life is
bucolic and in a coffee
Piaf singing ... on
modernity one
Voulzy repeats"Milady" without ceasing ...
The city is Paris all over
places ... latin quarter or
Montmartre only breathes
love there ... not
it's just lust
from bas fond or bar tabac:
The CAN CAN joy of
evolving legs
emotion ... even gives compulsion of
venturing around loving it ..
ah! Paris mon amour ... when
I'll be with you over again ... when
you will enchant another time ...!
Categories:
piaf, allusion, art, city, creation,
Form:
Prose Poetry
For 'music to my pen' contest - (Poem about Edith Piaf with reference to the song ''no
regrets'' and her autobiography)
Sat up,
Listening to sparrow.
Her every single word.
Loosing my memories.
Each night hoping,
That I might,
One day remember.
Rested head,
Did you hear her?
Each breathe a diamond.
Roughly cut out of love.
Never enough.
Her tears my lullaby.
Oh how I wish,
I could have been,
Her ever lasting spot light,
A warming blanket.
As the suns dimmed fast,
I know she feels the cold.
''No regrets'', I hear echo
''To hell with the past!''
Categories:
piaf, art
Form:
piaf's powerhouse
'non je ne regrette rien'
all ears on edith
posted on June 23, 2021
Categories:
piaf, age, celebrity, nostalgia, song,
Form:
Senryu
I bought a bird once
a parakeet from woolworth
looking so sad in its cage
and that was the start of my aviary
as it needed company I got it a mate
a nest with eggs ensued
they hatched ugly as hell they endeared my heart
begging for food from both parents
sadly daddy landed on the alligator swimming in its huge tank
sharing a brick wall with many more
I already had the sea lake and swamp
a tv lost in the middle making it hard to focus on a movie in my house
the music playing the world it was a paradise
where kids will visit as by them I was known as the bird lady showing them nature
in the tar streets of a block taxi driver we left behind and the prostitutes welcome for a shower any time they desired or a nap
well I regress to the nest the mother with no mate abandoned the brood
and I had to take over the multiple feedings day and night
out of three only one survived under my watch to get a name as he was so tame
flying to his world to greet the birds and mingle always coming back to me not afraid of humans as the finches hopping are harder to understand but plenty in my house
just a curtain to keep the kitchen clean the five and a half rooms became one
as walls were taken down and freedom from cages if not natures as an open window will not do but better than the zoo
Categories:
piaf, bird,
Form:
Free verse
i see your soul from another room
im trying to be with you but now its ruined
and now i cant acquire love
since my sense is growing
im way to proud to show the slightest emotion
out at night calling
you cut off my oxygen
and ever since then i dont know whats been happening
its been a hazy crazy kind of life im not lying
and now im waiting for the right time
see i wanna make you mine
but how things are going i might need to delay
im waiting for the right day
but it feels light years away
i want to get you closer to my heat wave
maybe even save me your slave
bathe me then grave me in ways
always in this phase
and it feels like a grammy
its happening
im telling you that youre perfect, baby girl just so perfect
im an addicted to you
cant get enough of that attitude
you turn make me crazy when youre being rude
elude the scene to be my queen
let me show you off
be my Edith Piaf
my French dream, you perfect human being
Categories:
piaf, anniversary, beauty, girlfriend, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Edith Piaf was a sparrow
Who ignored the "straight and narrow"
No pure white dove
She sang for love
Just as wild as Cupid's arrow
Categories:
piaf, music,
Form:
Limerick
Another summer
Summer is over the night arrives hastily
it was a delicious season spent indoors
his cancer didn´t like to sun.
To sit there and dream of summer wine and dance
reading brochure of adventures in Thailand.
Once he travelled to Paris, walked the street
trying to get a whiff when Paris was Hemingway´s
Ezra Pound’s Gertrude Stein’s and James Joyce’s.
Instead, it was another overpriced city
but he went to the house where Edith Piaf lived
her name was on the building and the street
where she had lived had a lived-in patina.
He was not invited, to a literary salon but
Shakespeare’s bookshop took in two of his
modest book
Categories:
piaf, books, culture,
Form:
Carpe Diem