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:
edith piaf, books, culture,
Form: Carpe Diem
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:
edith piaf, music,
Form: Limerick
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:
edith piaf, allegory, bird, french, love,
Form: Sonnet
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:
edith piaf, longing, love,
Form: Free verse
It was so long ago, the camera in my heart,
had almost forgotten it and so~
Let this be a tribute to Roget and his gracious
mother, the owners.....
A French bar, Le Montmartre,filled with well
dressed and well mannered Europeans, mostly
French, to which it was a joy to go and to
celebrate in.
A lover of Edith Piaf and Charles Aznavour was I!
Their soulful music made my soul fly, sky high!
Each holiday with only the French I joyfully spent.
I was adopted as one of them!
Granted, bars can be gross and rowdy,but
Le Montmartre had love and class, I recall with a
splendid sigh.
If only my hand could reach back in time~but
it cannot.
Without my French friends, the hills of San Francisco,
my heart is both lonely and rent.
I heard the French are heartless people.
This just is not so, I tell you from three years spent
with them..I want to shout it from the steeple!
September 25, 2020
3:30 pm PST
Categories:
edith piaf, french,
Form: I do not know?
Sex Appeal
How do we know it ends?
Or....did we end it?
We declare ourselves no longer
pretty or handsome!
Think...Edith Piaf.
{ her bio is online}
Edith married a way younger
man.
She was a French chanteuse.
Hardly ugly nor her face the
color of chartreuse.
I think tis we who make our
sex appeal end.
No matter how, what, why.
how or when.
We cast ourselves as "old.
No longer, a sexual being."
And, with that, we ourselves,
Are the creators of our own
sexual attractiveness undoing.
June 6, 2019
10pm PST
Categories:
edith piaf, age, beauty, sexy,
Form: Free verse
Edith Lived here
Black & white photo
A house where
Edith Piaf lived
Casting a long shadow
On a summer street.
Blank windows
The house is unpainted
As always
Edith has gone
Her voice lives on
She had no regrets.
Categories:
edith piaf, death, death of a
Form: Blank verse
Charles Aznavour and I
Once in Southgate, I bumped into him
I apologised, so did he, and we continued on our way.
Further down the street, I said to myself
you touched a famous man, thought of running after
him telling I knew who he was, but since he knew
this already, he would think I was deluded.
I later saw a picture of him on the door of a restaurant
Where he had a “gig”; one is modern.
The ticket price was high, and I didn`t care too much
of his singing, his public was for the cognoscenti
who had once been in Paris.
Me, I like Edith Piaf we lived in similar streets.
Categories:
edith piaf, anger, color, confidence,
Form: Blank 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:
edith piaf, anniversary, beauty, girlfriend, love,
Form: Rhyme
(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:
edith piaf, age, angst, girlfriend, love
Form: Free verse
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:
edith piaf, funny,
Form: Verse
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:
edith piaf, art
Form: I do not know?