Marseilles Poems | Examples

The Big Bang Theory - Revised

  Curious about the origin of the universe back in the day
     a French fry took a spin in a centrifuge in Marseilles

  Decided to stay in until 2021
      had himself a whole lot of fun

  By 2021, that solanum tuberosum, by the sum of its parts, gave onlookers
                                                                                               quite a start
      ~ emerging more divergent than 'Napoleon Blownaparte'

Lets Hit It

I miss the open highway
I’m besotted with quick getaways.
What other sensation can compare
to pulling G’s with wind-whipped hair?

When my foots on the throttle,
I feel unstoppable.
Faster, faster, no faster,
that’s the rush I’m after.

Where are we going?
There’s just no knowing,
but no matter where we roam,
the GPS will get us home.

One thing was guaranteed,
the speed limit would be exceeded.
I adored the wide open straightaways
and the feeling of a racing-day at Marseilles.

I remember in the Appalachian mountains
the plunging, snake-like, winding canyons
as the digital dashboard display passed ninety
how my eschort, Charles, would glare at me.

I’d let off - a little - and laugh, I mean,
isn’t freedom the American dream?
To hear the growl of a V8 motor,
as it turns rural-roads into roller coasters.

Nom De Guerre

Translated from the Slovakian

I enlisted with the god of second chances
Knowing my chances were second to none.
I surrendered my soul and my passport 
When I entered my new life’s routine
In service to the colors of France.

I’d pledged my honor and fidelity,
Or whatever romantic sh*te was required,
When I’d earned my coveted ticket 
For the train ride from Marseilles to Toulouse.
A sheep that's learned to fill itself on meat.

The training was tough, but the treatment humane.
Not like the nonsense portrayed in the movies.
But I was prepared to march or die
On the day I was given my name,
Vojak Bojovnik, Légion étrangère.

THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
DIEN BIEN PHU

Mabel Mended Macrame

Millie’s mother Mabel mended macrame
Mainly Marseilles-made macrame,
Maddening moments mending machine macrame
Mostly made-to-order, mostly May macrame.
Making May mostly made-to-order macrame means
Many months modifying Malaysian macrame, mostly!

written February 2, 2022

Death From Above

Death from above 1953

My uncle
Was seaman
Died in Marseilles
A pig on a balcony
Fell on him.
Mother said
He died at sea
When a mine
Struck his ship.
A likely explanation
That served
His widow well
When telling her
husband was 
a hero.

La Croix Valmer

We took the Marseilles road,
a cambered sun streaked the bay.

Lemon tea while others
search for cheap wine.

We are alone
exploring magnetic boundaries,
hands stalking a checkered tablecloth,
predict ourselves as a nocturn 
far from other eyes.

Night, secret unfolding’s, 
while we translate
the prayers of our flesh,
the tidal crests of our needs.

Dawn arrives with gulls
and guilt.
I catch the bus to Perpignan,

head for a border
that we know
we’ve already crossed.

Delete Fear and Dance-Ode To Joy

Delete Fear and Dance
                 (Ode to Joy)



Many fear-mongers met at Marseilles!
To make sure all nations shook in dismay.
They used Covid for their piece de resistance display.
Schools, shops, towns all closed down.
A bunch of morons masked us, like idiot clowns.
We fools bought it all, and so now everyone frowns!


Sane people knew the score, they were not buying it anymore.
Tyrants were jailed behind doors, when people thankfully knew the score.
Grandparents are not left alone to rot.
We had enough of Fauci, masks, vaccines and elected snots.
People lived normally as before.
Masks became an international joke.
Just like those life killers from Marseilles~ top idiot pokes! 


They even used Covid to ruin one national election?
But truth overcame, that mucked up idiotic, demented selection!
The Land of Dominion shall never be in the land of the free.
Health, happiness, hope was their pleasure and ultimate, joyful, destiny!



                     11/29/202O
                       2:45 am

La Croix Valmer

We took the Marseilles road,
a cambered sun streaking the bay
with gold threads.

We drink lemon tea 
while lovers and others
search for cheap wine.

We are alone at last, free 
to explore our magnetic boundaries;
hands stalking hands
on a checkered tablecloth.

That night we translate
the prayers of our flesh,
surfing tidal crests.

Dawn arrives with gulls
and guilt.
I catch the bus to Perpignan,

head for a border
we have already crossed.

The Sleepers Awake

THE SLEEPERS AWAKE

For century or more they served
Unchanging paths they always kept
As in a dream the tracks preserved
With faith immovable they slept

One day as on a given sign 
Their somnolence came to an end
They woke and each looked down the line
Thought: ‘Now’s the time to make amend’ 

The drivers were caught by surprise
(They never chose to left nor right)
And they could not believe their eyes
At unexpected views in  sight

What should have been a vernal place
With nothing but some cows and sheep
Revealed a bustling teeming space 
Of cars and people half asleep

Some passengers were due for shock
Arriving not in Waterloo
But disembarked at Pembroke Dock
Some stayed; (it was a nicer view)

Some thought they headed for train boats
To  Marseilles Nice or yet Cadiz
But woke in sight of John O’Groats
Got off the train with shivering knees

These days of glorious free ride
Gave inspiration, passing strife
When they could choose and they decide
And thus perceive a truth of life

Then with a satisfaction deep
They resurrected each old line
And laid down there once more to sleep
Perhaps to wake another time

Happening 128 Ear Candy

awake
look 
   listen,
   today
is here:
lets
move
      walk
      run
       towards
the future
not
looking
      back
but
ahead

inspired by clip of Marseilles

It Happened In Marseilles

At a corner cafe', in south central Marseilles,
While drinking imported Chablis 
As people passed by, from the corner of my eye
Came a lady, she was smiling, at me
Well I looked around, feeling like a clown,
At the patrons, sitting nearby
They seemed to be lovers, talking to each other
I spun around, just in time, to say "hi"

"No parlez vous Englaise", was all she could say
So I stood up and pulled out a chair
But she walked up and hugged me, practically mugged me
Then kissed me like we were a pair
I shook myself loose, held up a deuce
For the waiter to bring her a glass
Then I sat back down, still looking around
Expecting to be rudely harassed

She had dark mousey hair, and oh what a pair
Of the sexiest dark brown eyes
I guessed her for thirty, obviously flirty
When the waiter finally arrived
He poured her some wine,  she looked over at mine
Got up, started walking away
Then turning her head, In English she said
"Who the hell drinks imported in Marseilles"


    by Daniel Turner

Birth of Marseille

THE BIRTH OF MARSEILLE
This was the feast of a marriage decree,
first of his daughters to be,
but she must hide til the feasting was done,
before he'd let her pick one.

Gyptis, the daughter of Celt royalty,
her father reigned to the sea;
down on the beach he would offer her hand,
but who she chose was not planned.

He was a strange one from faraway tales
sailing on Aegean sails,
looking for somewhere he might not grow old
before his story is told.

His brother Simon, and Protis was he;
putting to Gaul from the sea,
came to the wedding where Gyptis would say
whom she would marry this day.

Protis was quick in requesting a share
of all the land he saw there,
and in his argueing, he was a stone,
like the king had never known.

From her seclusion she went to the shore,
gold for her suitors she wore,
egg-yolk and ashes to brighten her hair,
she counted all who were there.

Her father smiled when she offerred her hand,
"Protis, you've got your new land,
all of the world will remember this day
as the birth of Marseilles."
     ©  ron wilson ARBUTHNOT 
aka vee bdosa the doylestown Poet

I Look For You

????? ???

In the corner of the bookstore is a man playing dominoes
the crowd outside doesn't notice the confusion,
there is the sound of firecrackers and people turn
in all directions, the cameras searching for an answer

??????
no one will ever know the truth, it is well hidden
they will look for it in all the faded photographs
but it is a mystery to the world, that fatal day in November
some will say it is this, some will say it is that

 
the love, that inspired it
???? ??????
 
I say to the handwriting on the wall,
it was you all along, 

anchoring away, marching through Marseilles
with your epaulets and caps on.

 beauty in the eye of the beholder.

? ??????? ???? ??? ?????????

Between the Linen Sheets

Between the Linen Sheets

A hundred strokes through her hair
Pastel satin ribbons lie cross her chair
Bridal bed is prepared in finest linens
Her sculpturing gown flatters the ribbons

Revealing her curvy silhouette of youth
Ready for their night of marital truth
Flaxen hair shines like a halo from the candles
Floating gardenia’s sit by her wedding sandals

Climbing into the marriage bed waits for her groom
He enters mesmerized by the fragrance in their room
Into his arm’s he holds her tight kissing her moist lips
Drunk by her purity, on her sweet tasting lips he sips

Colors of fuchsia fill the room as passion rises
Melting into his arms, she envisions Marseilles:
Ready to give her all to him they fall to the bed
Blowing out the candles, he realizes this was
“All in his head”

Carole Cookie Arnold

Alsace Lorraine

I left you bleeding in Alsace-Lorraine
from the dozen roses rife with thorns,
each a story meant to wound.
For not often did I tell you the truth.

In Marseilles, we drowned in wine
mixed with tears and terrible fears, 
and in the shadow of a doubt 
I played the sun, the future husband.

I try to forget Paris, ten thousand smiles
And songs that said I love you.
All that remains is the long cold walk
Of regret for all I’ve done.

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