FILLE JOLIE
I see the tall apartments as we pass
We all shudder, slowing to a halt
The bus conductor turns and stares
As he stops to collect more fares
This stop-start ride is not his fault
The Place d’Etoile packed with cars
I am off to start a new school term
And almost ready to face the world
It’s 1960 and the times are changing
Career choices soon need arranging
As a young woman, not just a girl
And my independence I do affirm
I will stay to work in this exciting city
Paris also can offer varied recreation
My parents still living up in Normandy
Little villages always full of bonhomie
But my future is more than anticipation
And Gilles said he thought me pretty
The bus has almost reached Pont Neuf
Now yet another day of boring lessons
See the grown up people sitting here
Not everyone has varied lives, I fear
I just hope I’ll make good impressions
Whether as an aristocrat or mere serf
Fair skin, light hair, bright eyes,
A future full of success and excitement,
A life of fulfillment, friends and family of adornment,
Where to go after school, what to do as an adult,
College parties, turning twenty-one, a future family;
Never knowing what really happens in that beautiful mind
Judgment, criticism, hatred,
Confinement of happiness, numbness to pain,
Pressure for perfection, a need for achievement,
Stress turned to laziness, sadness turned to anger
Faking a smile to make it through each day,
Creating a persona to please everyone around her,
Hiding her stories, trembling in her mind, terrified to open up;
Starving herself from the comfort and safety she craves
Sleep getting harder each night, thoughts of eating slowly fading,
Bags covered with foundation, cheeks painted up red, concealing her true self,
Stupid comments from stupid boys infiltrating her mind, running her life,
The trauma, the pain, heart-aching stories, memories from the past,
Haunting her mind all throughout her days,
Such a pretty girl with too many dreadful stories;
A young woman with more self-criticism anyone can bare
My beautiful girl...
How sweet her soft symphonies,
My love... how she makes me swoon;
when the moon was full...
and love was in her eyes
Too tender her delicate embraces,
as I if to meld her soul in mine;
her sweet laughter...
how she adores my every glance,
time would stand still...
on an autumn night, how red her lips,
to kiss...softly, and to expect nothing more,
than her wondrous love...
My soul sings her name for an age eternal,
I hath given myself to her she-beauty;
my Queen! My Lady to none other than I...
my pledge a thousand glories over;
life is always sweet in her flower for me
An envy of the world I am ---
that she be only mine...
when her world is dark,
she shines my light;
love shall be our lamp to smite the monsters;
and the shadows, no more lonely do they look,
(for she is always there)
And beauty hath adorned her name...
(Ma Belle Femme Jolie)
JOLIE CHATTE,
LE MEOW !
LE MEOW !
JOLIE CHATTE,
LE MEOW,
LE MEOW !
IMPERTINENTE ALLEZ !
COE SUR SASSY !
COE SUR SASSY,
JOLIE !IGNORE
LE MEOW !
The lure of Angelina Jolie
Turns single Brad into an instant daddy
Raising brood in and out of jet flights
Their kids can’t figure mornings from nights
---------
PD’s Battle of the Clerihew #2
By nette onclaud
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.