Montmartre Poems - Poems about Montmartre

spring arrives today a scatter of clouds grey parisian rains unfurl winds that twirl and hurl umbrellas in the air petticoats fly up with flair whether each parisian girl parades for whim or dare posted on March 19, 2025...

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The croaking toad The spitting toad Is ill Time and wind pass Like poor cowards. Nothing is forever Life will remain beautiful Put a little salt ‘Cause we must fill up the shovel Where everything is bland. It's snowing in my heart It's not a great misfortune Clouds and birds pass. The croaking toad The spitting toad Has lost happiness. P.S. Translation of “Le Crapaud De Montmartre” by Hébert Logerie Copyright ©...

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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 the name evokes places and times which filled my imagination with wonder at the tales of Mme. Cabot would tell our high school French class on her good days. All this has come back...

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Soaked up the atmosphere of Montmartre Found café enjoyed French citron tart Double shot of coffee went down so well Then I heard the Sacré-Coeur bell. With hand on my heart, I honestly say The shades of the past forever hold sway There's something unique about Montmartre Air so different totally avant-garde. Picasso, Lautrec, and my favourite Monet Inhabited these streets and with...

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soak up the side streets of Montmartre, Paris, Pigalle on Boulevard de Clichy class less art combusts then drips - street beggars & tourists cant writer Rubbish pastes lace traceries ala mode decoupaging decay his cut-paper layers grace anoint no longer anonymous walls stencilist C215’s “simply a cat” defies sourpusses not to smile—see heaven art yes art with style the banality...

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