Long Villa Poems
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Manon (Mary) and I, sat in the Tuileries gardens, by the Louvre Museum. Her 7 month old daughter, Devyn, on a blanket in the grass, was earnestly practicing a roll from her tummy to her back - of course, we coo’d and applauded each success.
We’d been girls together, years ago, in 5th and 6th grade - we were ‘like thieves at a fair’ back then - playing ‘la marelle’ (hopscotch) and pétanque until the boys, in early exercise of their ‘ed privilege’ ran us off the court, scattering us like birds.
She wrote me off a few years ago. But to be fair, I was missing. Growing up, my family moved around like we were on the run. I’d come back to Paris some summers and we’d check-in, but summer schedules are ephemeral and years turned into distance and a seemingly permanent silence.
Her last voice message, from 2017, is still on my phone, her voice bright, cheerful and expectant. I listen to it every once in a while, holding my phone to my ear, like a private seashell.
I was moved to China, where I’m told - thank you, Grandmère - I picked up a brash, incisive, Cantonese, ‘overly-direct’ manor, while Manon,went on to Institut Villa Pierrefeu, a finishing school in Switzerland.
Her hands move like ballerinas, her voice is as clear and refined as
Baccarat crystal, her look - bixie-cut chestnut brown hair, a white, Fontaine Zuave shirt over black, ME+EM Italian Linen Wide-Leg Trousers with Keds canvas sneakers, is Parisian simple and elegant and her posture is effortlessly perfect - she makes me feel like a scrub in my black Beatles t-shirt and jeans.
I passed Manon on an escalator, two days ago in Le Bon Marché.
I was going up, she was going down, with this little Devyn doll on her hip. The little firecracker I’d only seen on Instagram was dynamite in person. Her little expressions are bright-eyed and somehow familiar, their laughs - mother and daughter - are the same, rolling, lilting trills I know by heart.
My watch showed 69°f as we sprawled picnicking on a tree-lined embankment of the slithering green Seine. Rain clouds were gathering to the south - the river acts like a compass -which can be handy. Looking back on friendships is fun, but now we’re looking forward - which feels like home.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
My Old School by Steely Dan
Angel by Sarah McLachlan
My first poetry reading on April 15, 2011 at Café Jolesch in Zittau
This evening I read the first five of my poems before an audience in the beautiful Art
Nouveau atmosphere of Café Jolesch under the direction of Karin Kayser and Rolf Monitor in
the context of the "Open Stage" for the 3rd Lusatian Culture Night. I waited for my first
appearance with a good Czech Svijani fresh draft beer. On the small stage were already
loudspeakers, microphones and musical instruments installed. From 8 pm on the room filled
with visitors. A live band playing rock music and blues and a young woman performed a
belly dance. All the tables were now occupied, and I cleared my place for some students,
listening to the sounds from the bar and watched the dance. There was much applause and
some young people shot photos with their cell phones. Then I was announced by Rolf
Monitor, stepped to the stage and read my five poems for the first time in public. It was
quiet in the room and all listened to me and when I had finished, came rapturous applause.
Rolf Monitor asked me if I could not read more of my poems, but I was only prepared to
read five. I promised to repeat my reading with more poems next time.
Note: The Lusatian Culture Night is a yearly event in April from 7 pm till midnight with
different performances, exhibits and other events. Café Jolesch is a pub in the so called
Hiller Villa.
The villa was built at end of the 19th Century. It was for decades the home of the Jewish
Hiller family. Gustav Hiller, an inventor from Großschönau, using the proceeds from his
first patent, a machine for manufacturing curtain strings, founded Zittau's Phänomenwerke.
They were known in GDR times as VEB Robur Works Zittau, in which bicycles of the brand
Phänomen, the Phänomobile and later the Robur truck were produced. During the Nazi rule,
Mrs. Hiller, could be bought off for an annual payment of 300,000 Reichsmark from
deportation. After the war the family moved into the West Zone. Today the Villa Hiller is
home for the Multicultural Center (MUK), a nonprofit organization. In 1993, the
granddaughters of Gustav Hiller, Mrs Anne Frommann and Mrs Claudia Siede-Hiller, now
living in Israel, donated the villa to the MUK. The ground floor houses the Café Jolesch.
King Power Rhapsody -
printed by the Leicester Mercury after the victory against Chelsea before Christmas
Is this the real life? Or just a fox fantasy?
Man U now Chelsea, it's a Leicester reality.
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
We're not a small club, we need no sympathy,
Points are easy come, easy go,
We hit a high, hit a low,
Depends which way the wind blows
but Leicester's all that matters to me... to me.
Mama, we signed a man,
We paid a million for this guy,
At the time we all asked why.
But Mama, now he's scored again,
And that means that he's scored fifteen so far...
Mama, ooh, our expectations weren't this high
And if we don't top the league this time tomorrow,
We'll carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Mahrez, his time has come,
Sent shivers down my spine,
Scintillating all the time.
Goodbye, Aston Villa, you've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh (we play until the ref blows),
Lawro said we'd lose,
I sometimes wish he'd never been born at all.
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Oh Special One, Special One, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning,
But he's not even frightening me.
Ranieri, Ranieri, Ranieri Claudio,
Magnifico.
Claudio 'We're just-a Leicester, no-a-body likes us'
Mourinho 'They're just a small club, I don't like them,
and I haven't liked him (Ranieri) since we worked in Italy'.
Easy come, easy go, will the ref not blow?
We just don't know but we'll play until he blows,
the ref says no, we'll play until he blows,
the ref says no, we'll play until he blows,
we'll play until he blows
He'll Never, never
Never never blow
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Claudio 'Oh, mama mia, mama mia
(Mama mia, let him blow)'
Then Clattenburg puts his whistle to his lips and we,
have all three...
So you think we're just Leicester and can't be this high;
but we're top in December and we could still buy.
We're just never gonna quit, and if you chat sh1t you'll get banged.....
Nothing really matters anyone can see cause we are Leicester City,
Yes we are Leicester City and we're top of the league.
(we play until the ref blows...)
After taking a shot of claret wine
Thackray on a mission to find
And she was not going to be declined
With a blade in hand getting a goal
Thackray did not look old
Spirits very high
Headed to the new castle in the sky
Deciding to meet and give a good try
Seeing Antonio no longer bitter
“I remember you were my movie costume fitter”
Laughing Antonio had a goal
And an honest soul
“Thackray I made you look good
As you should”
Hearing the remark she flashed a smile
And that image is still in her professional file
“That is right we are West Ham United
Ready to handle modern day fighting”
Letting her go through
Hoping today’s royals are cool
She stood before them
Ready to defend
Her influence on men
“You are no longer seventeen
In those dreamy
Blue jeans”
Royals stated
Then waited
For the answer
From the dancer
“I still got the look
Credibility in the modeling book
Relegating zone is following me around
Trying to take me down
A source I was able to contact
Said I still have a contract
I as a West Ham can still get another goal
And would be favorable to the modern royal public poll"
Modern royals looked at each other
Wondering if they were Thackray’s Mother
“We royals truly listen
And concluded you do not need our permission”
Thackray thanked them for their two pences
Accepted this draw ‘as making senses’
Later in the day
Aston was challenged to stay
With a point would be made
Receiving a nice grade
Went to Anfield
To check on a deal
“We are still number one
Writing paperbacks for fun”
Hosts did comment
Hotel rented Aston got it
Drama did unfold
Aston was still very bold
Yet Reds put one in
Stayed back for the win
“Mommy” Aston did say
“I need to talk to you about the Villa today!”
While Aston began to leave
Reality started to breath
When another one went in
Securing the Liverpool win
It was a civil ending
Honesty pending
Modern royals still nice
Gave the West hammy some advice
“You never stalk alone
Just answer the text or phone
Paperback writers are still out there
Needing west ham united to give audiences a scare”
It’s great to be a member of the global elite,
The bean poles in my garden are standing proud and neat.
Organic veg is thriving thanks to ample bags of peat.
I never hear a siren roaming down my street.
I’m fairly relaxed when an airline goes under.
Got a business proposition? Let me find you a funder.
“When will I fix their boilers?” my tenants do wonder.
I’ll soon find a scapegoat, if I should make a blunder.
A product of a public school, the pride of Shrewsbury,
Forcibly convinced that you would rather be me.
The reality is I’m at the top of the tree
So every branch manager is looking up to me!
My diary is dependent on the diligent Katrina,
She runs the show like clockwork, you’ll find nobody keener.
She cuts through all the jargon so the minutes are much leaner
And can text me at the golf club or on my yacht in the marina.
I’m awfully busy, cannot give you an appointment.
Upbeat copywriters - you can find a place in my tent.
Relatively shielded from the risks of disappointment,
You’ll never find a fly in my ointment!
If the radiators splutter, I call my handyman,
If my money’s on a racehorse, then I hope it runs to plan,
On the promenade at Paignton I’m a suave and sandy man,
To a certain travel agent, I’m her “neat and dandy man.”
My doctor comes a-running if I ever get a cough.
Your trusted friends will recognise when you’re a toff.
I flutter like a butterfly high above your moth
So the sprinklers on my lawn are rarely turned off.
Sundays see me mulling over crossword clues
While my weekend valet cleans my outdoor shoes,
Got to keep my name out of the news.
Remember buddy: heads I win and tails you lose.
Now most of my investments are quite discreet,
There’s a chalet in Antigua and a villa in Crete.
Want some carrot cake while you’re thinking on your feet?
Then you’d better not quibble with the global elite.
This poem first appeared in the P.U.W. Anthology "In the Name of Democracy - Poetic Voices" on 22nd May 2021.
Rome was always a playground for me,
Where lovely girls thronged around the streets:
The Fontana dei Trevi where people threw coins
Hoping they would revisit enchanting Rome,
Or on the Spanish stairs amid the delicate flowers
Exuding fragrant perfumes of purple roses,
Delicate dianthus or scented-leaf geraniums.
There she sat, alone upon one of the steep stairs,
Licking a vanilla ice-cream and sipping a lemonade.
We looked hard at each other and we both smiled
It was passionate attraction magnitude nine.
Who can escape the wonder of a sexy love?
Losing no time we went for a walk until soon
We were kissing on the ramparts of Rome,
Watching the sunset and making our erotic plans.
Her name was Helga and bound to leave next day,
To go back to her home in faraway Berlin.
“Come with me love, we’ll never part,” she crooned,
“We’ll drink plenty coffee in my Berlin.”
How could I miss an idyllic invitation like that?
Alas I knew full well I did not have the fare
To travel with my newly found goddess of love
To go far away, to live with her in West Berlin.
A plan was needed, if courage I had,
To go to the Parioli where the rich lived.
Surely it would be child’s play, I thought
To enter and help myself to a handful of wealth,
Just enough to accompany my love to Berlin.
Round a corner a stately darkened villa stood.
Should be a simple job to rifle the lot,
Assuming I could find an easy door unlocked.
I tiptoed in and hastened up the path.
Alas fortune was not on my side that day.
I heard the ominous sharp whistle of an alarm.
I turned and ran but the Doberman was quick
And bit my tender behind till it bled.
Soon I found myself in a nasty smelling ER,
With sutures repairing the nasty bite.
“Three days in bed, my boy,” the matronly nurse said.
“Rest face down for the wound to heal,
And keep the curtains drawn.” Thus snickering she left.
Helga departed forever more and I lay face down in bed
Crying from pain and cursing my bad luck,
Instead of making love in the city of Berlin.
Boys turned into men
Acting chivalry needing to defend
Thackray who never was
Due to the wasp woman wanting buzz
Gunners waited for Watford to arrive
“Foul!” they did claim in a cry
On target goal after the penalty try
Followed by one then another
Sunday’s mother
Agree those went in
Later on Arsenal committed an innocent sin
Deeny connected
Shot was not protected
Three one at the break
Story brewing about the yellow jacket relegation wake
Being well back
Singing stingers put together an attack
Calling upon Danny to give a whack
A nice song he did bellow
Not enough to save the hives, dear fellow
For the longest time
In her own mind
Mrs. Harris
Just home from Paris
Thackray did not cause any trouble
There was no reason to blow any bubbles
As time ticked away
Grealish earned his claret blue army pay
Slicking it through the post
Mrs. Harris a few seconds later returned the gesture with a kind toast
A draw
Was the call
And Aston’s Villa would not be sold
Since they did not fold
“Send down the Honey Cherry Buzz flavor”
Second tier league requested as a favor
Mr. Bourne with toffee candy in the mouth
His cherries ready to head south
But today he enjoyed a sweet victory taste
Wasn’t showing ill feelings or haste
Instead filled with Goodison’s grace
Citizens on the other hand made the canaries look like nothing
Man City netting five which was something
Four sixes were on the executive level table
Two were issued to pensioners writing a Chelsea fable
While the Red Devils had a pair
Enough to scare
That pesky fox
Now having respectable stock
“Worry about a single commitment next year
And enjoy that cheer”
Was the message
About priority addressing
As for Thackray, the west ham
Romantically united Mrs. Harris succeeded in her plan
Next time a gale force winds come through
Infecting play asking ‘what are you gonna do?”
Do not put the season in the hearses
Just be sporty write creative poetic rhyming verses
The End
Grey cotton wool clouds enfold the mountain tops,
Creeping forward like an army on the move.
Now and then, dropping their wet cargo
On vegetation, withered from long months of sun.
Gusts of wind carry fragments of birdsong,
Rejoicing in the rain, singing their hearts out,
Snippets of melodies, tunes incomplete
Yet somehow they hold total beauty.
The local goat herd head for the cover of trees,
Their bells clanging, a discordant harmony,
Mellow and almost soothing in an odd way.
The soft falling rain gently spatters the ground,
Changing the base colour, by its very wetness.
Greens become greener, more vibrant, alive,
Flowers perk up and shine forth their beauty
Waiting for the never too far away sun to return
Adding to the life-giving rain in its role of
Sustainer of life, giver of growth and spread.
As the rain clears the tops of the mountains
Birdsong becomes more urgent, more intense.
Life is good, go forth and live it, could be
What they are saying. And why not?
Beauty is as beauty does, true as ever,
Wherever beauty is found, especially here.
High in the hills, low in the mountains
Any glade or grassy knell, rocky outcrop
And stony path, life abounds, so oft unseen
By human eyes. So few see this beauty show
Eyes blind to creatures great and small
Oblivious to picturesque valley or
Craggy mountain peaks with eagle circling high.
They care not for scenic views
Bored with not being entertained
As is the modern way, no phone signal up high
A blessing most would say, peace and quiet.
But on this Spanish mountainside, calm yet busy
Life abounds, rains fall on grateful grounds,
An ambience of peace and life fulfilled,
Beauty deep shines forth for those with open eyes,
Aware and looking for each and every gem.
Each winding track, each lofty villa
Shack or outhouse, grace the mountain
With individual promise of Spanish life,
A slice, a piece, a glimpse of another way.
No ‘mod cons’ up here, just life’s basics.
A life of one with nature, peace and harmony.
Take a look my Love
do you see how the diamonds of our dreams
are burning so brightly and violently
silhouetting the lips of our wishes against the walls of ancient Latin gold
in the sacred villa of Love's Kingdom where there is no escape
where rescue is unwanted,
where we survive and grow stronger in the gymnasium of passion's glory
did you notice that above the rose vine gateway
the phrase Sancta Simplicitas is carved deeply into the black and white marble,
do you feel the crimson love stress within your throat,
do you taste your soul's intestinal fortitude
surfacing on your spiked tongue
as we wrestle eachother ruthlessly, like champions that die in defeat,
moral armbars, clean elbow strikes to the jaw of flippancy,
pressure point pinches to the arteries of our inhibitions,
intellectual left and right hooks landing on the cheeks of our wisdom,
poetic hip throws to the mat of hard lust
defiant choke holds of love, flawless in tight execution
penetrating the blood brain barrier with the ecstasy of warrior fervor,
and as we lay sweatied and spent on the ground of this rough enlightenment
we look at eachother admiringly and realize like young romance
that we live for a single, shared purpose
to teach love what love means,
If they ever say diamonds to diamonds, dust to dust
they'll be speaking in bereavement of our beauty and bravery, of our best,
and I won't allow that,
as I know damn well
that you will not tolerate such misgivings either my Love,
instead,
we shall build a war machine of divine desire
that will destroy the proven walls of conventional psychology
erect a fortress of love that can withstand total despair,
and they will know the strength of our diamond love
as it guides the lost and lonely
through chaotic oceans of heart hysteria as with us,
no one will ever say our love died,
because we fought for it to live my Love -
Sancta Simplicitas is an ancient Latin phrase meaning...Holy Simplicity...
J.A.B.
Multitudes enter the venue
all know there's something Entre Nous
You Take a Friend to find your place
it's time to just Cut to the Chase
All Losing It, the lights go down
Signals a start to the Countdown
Vital Signs race to Larry, Curly, and Moe
a Distant Early Warning that starts the show
Can't Resist that sound, distinctive
while The Stars Look Down it seems instinctive
The Spirit of Radio starts (with an attitude)
up on your feet you're In the Mood
Making Memories with a Headlong Flight
and straight on into The Color of Right
Might they play The Necromancer
or maybe even Fancy Dancer
Tom Sawyer starts a wild frenzy
One Little Victory follows unrelentingly
No Ghost of a Chance they'd play Cygnus X-1
but books one AND two - they aren't even done
only Intermission
Presto - back with 2112
how far back will they delve
A Passage to Bangkok brings you to Tears
then showing four aspects of their Fears
While Mystic Rhythms start to grow
O Baterista is next, as we all know
YYZ, Working Man both kick ass
Natural Science and then The Pass
Makes The Body Electric and Time Stand Still
knowing you are Here Again of your own Freewill
They Test for Echo seeing all still alive
Red Barchetta makes sure you can drive
Trees stand tall in Cities of Gold that are Seven
swaying themselves under the starry heaven
Limelight shines in La Villa Strangiato
Wish Them Well for it is time to go
But We Hold On....
Malignant Narcissism starts the encore
Spindrifts into The Snow Dog and By-Tor
One can only Hope it's not the last tour
Closer to Your Heart than ever Before(and After)
In the End you know
you are Finding Your Way back home
endlessly rocking
endlessly rocking under starry heavens
As the Caravans travel onwards
riding out into a heartless sea
Remember what, to you, brought these words
Dirk, Lerxst, Pratt, and the lonely letter of E.
song/album titles/partial lyrics-Lee/Lifeson/Peart ©