Long Baguette Poems

If ever a moment in real life deserved a romantic, melancholy
backing track, it would have been that one ... we'd spent the
entire afternoon at Ferry Beach, sunning and playing frisbee, I
playing guitar, she practicing her...

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     by how many badbyes can you measure the length of your day

                 first comes...

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Translation of YESTERDAY WHEN I WAS YOUNG
By T. Wignesan
(Written by : Herbert Kretzmer)

(Variously sung in a host of styles, moods and orchestration by
exquisite soul-movers like Roberta Flack, Shirley Bassey, Charles Aznavour, Glen Campbell, Andy Williams,...

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We are friendly sort of people, greeting and asking how you are,
One great nation, two languages, the distance between coasts far,
Travel to Quebec or to some areas in provinces east and west,
You may be asked...

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A dreaming man in the state of REM
sees the dream as a reality
rivers of thoughts like sparkling gems
reveling in his new found sanity.
hours ago, a dozen empty bottles
deafening music and cheesy sizzles
gagging from second hand...

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Ah, Paris, is still calling me, as a romantic lover that has been the 
                 background of my dreams....

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I sit at my table - I sip onion soup
It's good for my cough - bad case of the croup
I could do with a meal and something to sup
But the bar is now closed -...

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Whilst walking by the sea at the very crack of dawn
An early morning saunter on this special Christmas morn

Something caught my eye just as I meandered by
It was different, it was still, had it fallen...

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Pink vase with no design
Dangling there so blue- c'est la vie 
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything hectic
In an apartment rising high skyward
The item lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a...

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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Thirty-Two

Late afternoon. Doldrums. The waters stood still. Was She asleep?
Lady Lake then drew her petticoat up to scratch Her shins deep.
At Embryo Islet the siesta-bound birds stirred and...

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I sit at my table - I sip onion soup
It's good for my cough - bad case of the croup
I could do with a meal and something to sup
But the bar is now closed -...

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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Eight

At her feet gather daily plumage dark white to brown leather
Pigeons geese crows sparrows larks and wild ducks in sunset colour
And the resident owners of the waters by...

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I

wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine

jet streaks through pylon barrage
windshield wipers’ hemicircular swipe

dry cat’s crusty baguette fur
ashen...

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Boast brownies baking
in dirty palm oil bacon fat
Sugar-coated swine vanilla cupcakes;
pineapple upside down snout snacks,
so coconut phone hasty ...
Sound-byte puff pastry

Flour-face teflon pan —  
tart marshmallow mint muffin
Silver tongue baguette 
spooning out citrus acid...

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A girl in Cherbourg 

We sat in a bar in Cherbourg a town still struggling after a war 
to become just another French coastal town
Sitting with mates from the ship can be tedious, and if...

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Day 1

I was defeated
That very first day
You held your baguette you had that Alizee sway
Love in Paris, always sweet in May

Days became months
Love became profound
We married and forever we said we'd keep
Our love, that grew...

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Ladies from France
Renowned for their glamor
Parade designer dresses
All day long all night long
Like gazelles in stilettos
Looking fit looking fab

It’s a mystery and conundrum
How successful they are
To maintain girlish figures
While we punish ourselves
Trying to lose every...

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My favorite dining place in town is a place called La Baguette.
'Tis a quaint French café and I haven't found its equal yet.
They serve the most scrumptious French onion soup west of Gay Paree,
And it...

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It all started with a bet
Inside a launderette
Over a cigarette
With a brunette
I hadn’t yet met

Her name was Marie-Antoinette
As she said it she did a pirouette
And wow what a silhouette
Coquette she wore an amulet
Feared nothing short...

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Cappuccino café

Leila Alaoui

Why does one have to die?
So that we can see the bold and noble heart
That used to beat with passion, why?
Her smile now, heaven sent from the sky

Her beauty would have fooled most...

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BBC News Alert


Somewhere in France
In the Countryside
A farmer has been arrested
For molesting an old cow
A drunken old hag was on all fours
Crawling around in his field
He, having had his wine and baguette
Thought he had forgotten...

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December Paris  

Winter Paris pavement cafés vacant chairs and poor sparrows look for 
baguette crumbs. Artists had gone to their loft conversions, in bed with 
their models and plates of goose liver pate, waiting...

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That active song won't let me forget.
It's lyrics spin like dancing wet ink,
and for four solid minutes I think
I am sixteen, playing Juliet.

That painted song won't let me forget.
Like strobe lights pulsing our skating rink,
when...

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Louis came to the café around one,
set his wooden boxes beside a table 
and looked at the chalk board menu as 
he felt through his pants for money

He decided he could afford a 
baguette, a...

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Your love is like cold butter; 
									I am the knife.

It will not spread 

	will not move 

it’s hopelessly stuck.

Obviously, as a knife,
I have no need of butter.
		But look! 		Just over there!
			A hunk of bread!
I’m quite...

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