School French Poems

They packed their picnic basket s and journeyed towards the sun, with boxes of liquor, creates of beers and a drum fill with carbonated soda;...

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In seventeen sixty nine a child was born
in Corsica, Genoa's former vassal state.
Prior to his birth, his land had been war-torn,
Paoli's resistance did his birth...

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In days long past, my school did a pilgrimage to a small land of peace and reconciliation, that lay in the nation of passion and...

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On my first day
I met a new friend.
We had the same new sneakers 
And sharpened pencils
And coloring books
And backpacks
And French braids
And rulers
And we smelled the...

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PAUL VALERY TRANSLATION: “SECRET ODE”

“Secret Ode” is a poem by the French poet Paul Valéry about collapsing after a vigorous dance, watching the sun set,...

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I confess that these are false memories
as I’ve never been to the Paris’ and it’s
arrondissements, and these days, I avoid
air travel what with climate change.
Yet...

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Anna had been sent to school in Paris France,
     she was not feeling great about leaving her friends;
but Paris was such...

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Anna's boyfriend comes from France
Stars in her eyes from French romance.

Now our boyfriends are all homegrown
We want a French kiss the seeds are sown.

Alain is...

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When I was young,                                           ...

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Fashion’s symbolic sensuality draws eyes, stir passions and maybe even resentments!  =]

Of course, maybe you’re above worldly conceits, above fashion. YOU, go through life...

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i become a stone,
   still a leader,
but translation
transforms me,
   as i learn
      “le crayon est rouge.”

“Je...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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I went for a morning stroll
I had a decision to make
A road to choose
I knew where I was heading
French bread and rosin bun
I took the...

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IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : LXII - LXIII

			LXII

If ever I had a country with streets under graffiti
And if ever I were the Minister...

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In the orchestra of languages
Nobody would dispute
That French, with honeyed cadence,
Would be likened to the flute.

I pass a French school every day
And hear the conversation...

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