Best Vie Poems
Reveal to me, do!
How you carried off my heart and it now lives within you.
I can see it brightly alive in your godlike chest.
You had the loving, brown-eyed chutzpah to magically place
both our names upon it and yes, with the family crest.
Reveal for me, do!
How you, at every sunrise, serves me a cup of steaming
aromatic happiness?
And a shower together, Agapi Mou, the crest of jasmine jouissance!
Swimming as one, in life effortlessly, joyfully, in loves' rainbowed,
forever, dancing cadence!
September 21. 2019
C’est la vie, Billy!
His cheeks a deep scarlet,
His jaw tightened in an eerie grin,
He stands, rooted to the spot
While the snot in his nose
Like a long gooey
Streak of
Chewing-gum
Slowly comes dripping
Onto his dappled T-shirt,
and his eyes, like dazzling agates,
Fixedly follow the interminable course of
The red rubbery ball
As the projectile
In a deafening clash,
Smashes the headmaster’s office window.
Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
Happened along
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
Intact
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
An ally
Another fate for vase awaits
Less encumbered
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
She Walks
With
The sun,
Like a sunflower.
A pleasant evening
Romantic streets in Paris
Killed, done in cold blood
Picture as warzone
Music stops and ball rolling
A nightmares in live
The death in Paris
Fire with assault rifle
France close its borders
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A definition of evil: Goodness absence - No compassion
Are some people born without heart and becomes obsessed with the power of evil ?
Fear and crying
Gurgling stream of hate
My pain for the world
Give me your hand
Always by your side
14.11.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
An eisteddfod* is arranged for March 1st
The whole school is encouraged to do their bit
Poetry wasn't my forte in those days
Art was not allowed for this
I decided I would sing a traditional song
Practised whenever I had a spare chance
My voice isn't perfect but I can keep a tune
As times gets nearer wished I had chosen dance.
March 1st arrives our national day, St David's Day
The school was buzzing with most of them here
I try to sing my voice has gone,
Panic sets in I said a prayer
They call out my name and the house I represented
Madame Curie was the one. I opened my mouth to sing
Not a sound came through, my eyes filled with tears
I had practised and practised to get right this thing
My voice I had lost, my nerves were in shreds
Felt like going home and taking to my bed
Instead I shrugged my shoulders, said. C'est la vie
What will be will be, will recite it instead.
They clapped me for trying, felt my shoulders go back
Instead of a song, they had it in verse
I hadn't let my house down just made a different attack
Quick thinking saved me, was just not as rehearsed.
*eisteddfod = annual Welsh festival artistic competition
I hear the whispers of past souls
That guide me through life’s
Wondrous garden of flowers.
Each flower has a unique
And beautiful bloom.
I see how the fragile and
Delicate injure easily and
Wither and die without protection.
I am amazed at the strength
And endurance of the sturdy.
But most of all. . .
I marvel at the lowly weeds,
Though they be uprooted
And cast out of the garden,
How they find a way to leave their
Seeds behind to grow and flourish---
Undaunted.
1-18-2014
Note:
This poem is a metaphoric view of the weak, the strong and the unwanted people in life.
Interprétation Française
Dans le jardin de la vie
J'entends les chuchotements
des âmes passées
qui me guident par la vie
Jardin merveilleux des fleurs.
Chaque fleur a un unique
Et belle fleur.
Je vois comment le fragile et
Sensible blessez facilement et
Wither et meurent sans protection.
Je suis stupéfié à la force
Et résistance du vigoureux.
Mais surtout.
Je m'émerveille aux herbes modestes,
Bien qu'elles soient déracinées
Et fonte hors du jardin,
Comment ils trouvent une
manière de laisser leurs graines derrière
pour se développer et s'épanouir---
Intrépide.
It is a lumber, man! all lumber
It makes your life-boat heavy to pull
and you nearly faint at the oars
That’s life.
You lose your freedom by anxiety
No time to watch the windy shadows
skimming lightly over the shallows
That’s life.
No time to watch the woods all green
or the lilies white and yellow.
No time to watch all these with dreamy laziness.
That’s life
Watch the butterflies fluttering by
Not, at all, interested in longevity
But to be a part of beauty and burn
That’s life.
Throw the lumber over, man!
And make the boat easier to pull.
It will never be so liable to upset.
That’s life.
Remember, in the journey of life
death is not the destination but joy
so don’t rush, take life as it comes
That’s life.
See the beauty in small proportions
Life will be perfect in small measures.
+++
Like a winter’s night
Death often arrives too soon.
And lasts far too long.
Wish I was a poet, and got well paid
for poems writ whilst wearing suede
and drinking lots ‘n' lots of claret,
in a well-appointed Paris garret
My publisher would love me true,
and pay my rent, when overdue,
so I wouldn't sleep on Montmartre streets
and get under decent people's feets
I'd get well drunk and laid a lot,
(I heard poets do, more oft than not)
and choose, with numbers from a jar,
mam'selles to coucher with each soir.
Les dames Francaises would think me clever
‘cause root and boot are words I'd never
correlate. But sometimes Paris Bourse,
I'd rhyme with sexual intercourse.
And what if, for every verse I penned,
I got a hot brand-new best friend?
I wonder how long could I last,
in a life I led that blazing fast?
My real life's, in truth, synonymous
with being next best to anonymous,
but I suppose that it might be much worse,
had I to catch an early hearse.
Left Monterey on Saturday.
Arrived in Paris early Sunday.
Driven to the Somme Cemetery Monday.
Job-interviewed and lunched on Tuesday.
Flew back home via L.A. Wednesday.
Recovered on Thursday.
Back to work on Friday.
Disappointed on Saturday.
Didn't get the job, but spent three nights in Paris at government expense.
C'est la vie.
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Disclaimer: The first poem is purely the work of fiction. Everyone who knows the lovely Vie knows how beautiful and amazing she is. But, as most of you know, I ‘go for it’ when it comes to contests…so here we have it.
*****************************
*You asked for it girlie :)
Whackjob
Vienna…
I have to say you’re a freak
Your poems are all in Greek
Your life is one train wreck
I’d never accept your check
Do you even have two brain cells?
Your breath probably smells
You’d sell your body for a buck
But who would screw a cold duck?
So whackjob…don’t forget to bark
Crawling home to the trailer park
Talented, Beautiful Viking
Vie, you are so amazingly skilled
After reading your work, I’m thrilled
You really brighten my day
You’re like a banana parfait
With cherries and whip cream
And two shots of Jim Beam
No you’re better than that
Pretty as a Persian cat
Sweet, agile and striking
Like a sophisticated Viking
Bonus lines (not included in contest ‘cuz this girl follows the rules)
****************
And I’m sure, this poem I aced
‘cuz Vie, you have great taste :)
My doctor’s warning is dour I say,
soon I could be lowered in clay,
so fat, sugar and salt,
hard liquor must halt -
I went to his funeral today.
I am perhaps a bit overzealous at times
But that's just the way I am and have always been
My love genes far outnumber all other combined
I'm certainly not complaining, my friends
But it can sometimes lead to a misunderstanding
That's the challenge that life can sometimes throw at us
To rise above it all with a "c'est la vie" attitude
Can be a daunting task at times
But the results will be a much happier existence
Does this sound like a lecture
Sorry, I can get carried away at times
Really want to pass along what life's experiences have taught me
As we journey through it, in what seems like
Blazing speed... no one gets out alive
So the best advice is to hang on and enjoy the adventure
It's a one time limited offer that expires far too soon
C'est la vie, mes amis, c'est la vie!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Cherries blooming in past springs,
Their fragrance clings and clings,
That was la vie en rose.
You were dancing just beneath,
Hair crowned in flower-wreath,
I saw la vie en rose.
Then I'd hold you with my arms,
Get filled with all your charms,
Your charms and danced the night,
Oh what a sight,
How it hangs there despite,
All the time passed,
Hurtful days which seemed vast!
Now I can no longer see,
How life again will be,
La vie en rose.
Now I seat in comfy chair,
And dream about your cherry hair,
Our dances now are long ago,
Our cherry tree embraced the snow.
Nonetheless I dream that day,
When you and I were gay,
I dream la vie en rose.
In my head we still are young,
Our kisses tongue to tongue,
We live la vie en rose.
But my dream is quickly dead,
When coo-coo voice her's spread,
Her voice that kills my dreams,
And now it seems,
That without you all grey,
My life will stay,
All the way, till my death,
But when my dreams begin,
Then i see your grin,
La vie en rose.