I walked in the garden
yeah, that was me
I stepped on a plant
accidentally.
In my defense it was gloomy,
there was no moon
I would have missed it
if it had been noon
I’m afraid it was fatal
you’re the first with the results
it was limp and unresponsive
and it had no pulse
I decided I’d bury it - it was gone.
I’d go out after I jog, about dawn
I thought it Improvident and beyond needs,
it turned out fine - it recovered - it’s a weed.
.
.
Songs for this:
A Girl In Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing) by Romeo Void
Can't Be Sure by The Sundays
Paris is about attitude and the art of slow living, where nothing’s urgent and everything’s fine.
But if you’re in school, that’s not true. I just began a group project (gp), and to paraphrase William Shakespeare, the storm has come again! GPs are big affairs with slow moving parts, like conceptualization and collaboration - and all that happens before any actual work is done.
Some cultures treat deadlines like casual suggestions but I get absolutely hinky in the loom of deadlines - I pace, chew fingernails and fret.
The other day, a TA (teaching assistant) asked me if I was trying to “prove something.”
The French invented ‘laze faire.’ after all, but I’m American enough to have dismissively said,
“I’d like to prove I can complete the assignment on time.”
Let’s get poet-y..
A trial comes, like a cloud, so dark it should thunder
but there’s no bromide, offer of shelter or tent to mock the storm,
it’s for us - as strangers - to return results which opinion crowns fair.
.
.
Let’s sing the blues:
O.K. I'll Play the Blues - Deanna Bogart
Emotions and Math - Margaret Glaspy
Preachin' Blues by Larkin Poe
Paris isn’t some wondrous far country.
We have noisy trash pickup and there are no Dairy Queens.
Ok, It may be far away but that’s your fault - let’s not dwell on it.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re wondrous enough - we have we have running water - some of it hot, and the other bare necessities of earthly happiness, like wi-fi and pizza.
Paris is like a melon - here’s where you get involved and picture a melon.
If you pictured bananas, those aren’t melons - they’re tropical fruits - try again.
Oranges? GEE-zus, those are Citrus fruits - you are really slowing things down.
Forget it - let’s do some poetry…
When he kisses,
he leaves his impress
and makes me writhe and twist.
We revel and carouse tirelessly,
appetites roar and seethe like lions,
until we lie prone like the dead.
I should have saved that for Halloween.
.
.
Songs for this:
Back to friends by Sobr
DAISIES by Justin Bieber
KISS by Demi Lovato
Because of the holiday the Lourve was closed.
Mary was impressed with the French pastry
that tasted just as good as it looked.
Horrible coffee, good chocolate & delicious thick soups.
Beautiful clothes with prohibitive prices.
We boarded the Albert Express for Switzerland
with a bottle of wine and a big bag of pastries.
Take me back to Paris, I can’t stand the fresh air and healthy people of Switzerland
Arrived in Lucerne with time to enjoy the fountains in all the squares —
they were boarded up a couple days later.
Delicious cheese fondue, murals painted on the old houses,
a quaint town for William Tell, with his bow and barefooted boy.
A Train from The Alps to Venice.
Train to Florence, Hotel Majestic,
whole city is an art Gallery.
Michelangelo square, mosaic jewelry, leather goods.
Flores Hotel in Rome, Vatican, Parthenon.
St. Paul without the walls, St. Peters in chains,
Nightclub tour of the city, Old Appian way,
Capuchin Church with all the bones...
It is never too late,
My birthday gift,
Is the most beautiful that I received,
My sister, my brother-in-law and I,
Let’s cross France, on Monday
Went to Giverny on Tuesday
We visited the garden and the house
By Claude Monet, the painter,
Somme went to Paris on Wednesday
We visited the Musée de l'Orangerie,
To see Monet’s water lilies,
In two immense and oval rooms,
It was pretty amazing!
We tasted the Tuileries garden
among some Chinese tourists,
Then we left Paris in the afternoon,
The next day in the Mayenne
We visited the Robert Tatin museum,
Then we left for Brest
Here is a birthday gift
That I will never forget,
It was pretty amazing!
Eyelash flashes and soft, sultry, hips
Languid, lascivious, seductions
Hot lust drips from sweet, lump-luscious, lips
Intimate, discriminate, influx-ions
Fast fingertips and slow gyrating hips
A night of lascivious influx-ions
Took one last sweet kiss from the sweetest of lips
Now no more discriminate seductions
Exploring the streets of Paris
I wonder what you're up to tonight
~ I'm wishing you were here
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Disasters impaired us
Our Pastors prepared us
Broadcasters just scared us
We're Plastered in Paris!
Been to the London Stock Exchange
opened in 1571 by Elizabeth the Queen
and what's more saw the New York Big Board
the world's largest stock market ever seen
but when I took a trip to Paris
had no clue as to what to do
altho' I was educated in French
(parlez-vous?)
I believe brokers did so to discommode
as when yelling buying or selling
they communicated in Bourse code
room with a view
eiffel tower in background
~ wiles and whiskers
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Meet me I'll be waiting
Rendezvous at Black Cat Cafe in Paris
~ I'll wear my red beret
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Kim's song in French
Lent son du saxophone ; je m'allonge
et j'écoute les paroles du bon vieux temps,
quand Paris était à la mode,
et que le temps de l'amour est révolu
pour la vieille fille sirotant du vin
à la terrasse d'un café ; fixant,
sommes-nous, les yeux d'un tableau
pluvieux et coloré ; romantiquement
par le son frémissant du saxophone ;
ses notes flottant sur la Seine.
Gouttes de pluie grises, bleues et cerisiers en fleurs ; un sourire subtil sur des lèvres rouges,
rappelant la beauté et les heures passées ;
claquement de talons et belle robe.
Paroles et vocables posés et assurés
régularisent mon cœur, réchauffent mes pulsations.
Une voix fredonne, tandis que les doigts du phoniste s'agitent,
fourmillent tous les sens ; variateur de cabernet.
A quarter rest breathed into my consciousness, a playful pretense of a warm hand gently placed above my heart, calming my sedulous spirit.
—by the Poet
When Paris Was All The Rage
Slow sound of the sax; I lay back
and listen to good-old-day lyrics,
when Paris was all the rage,
and the time of love has past
for the old maid sipping wine
on a sidewalk café; staring,
are we, into the eyes of a painting
rainy and colorful; romanticized
by the simmering sound of the sax;
its notes buoyant on the Seine.
Raindrops of gray, blue and cherry
blossom; a scant smile on red lips,
reminiscing the fading beau and hours;
clicking heels and handsome dress.
Sedate and cocksure lyrics and vocables
regulate my heart, warm my pulse points.
A voice croons, as the ‘phonist’s fingers gyrate,
tingling all the senses; cabernet dimmer switch.
How distant do you feel from our ideal life,
and how hard are you willing to go, to get there?
You’ve got to pull a big swing sometimes, to get there, you know?
You’ll flourish in the aftermath.
What I’m carrying is joy.
Notes for an American student in Paris..
Be less intense
tone it down
pullback.
Enough scrappiness, hustle,
and intensity on repeat.
Sure, honesty is sanity,
but give them a better version
some ‘church girl’ energy, maybe.
Win ‘em with winsome
Don’t welcome them, immediately, into your tense, inner world.
.
.
Songs for this:
Oh Honey! (I Love You) by Peach Tree Rascals
Nothing Breaks Like a Heart (feat. Miley Cyrus) by Mark Ronson
Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution) by The Bangles
The Moulin Rouge at Night
At night, the Moulin Rouge bursts into life
with orchestrated music and bright lights,
where singers and cancan dancers excite
audiences who applaud them with delight,
and is a splendid place to patronize
for entertainment when in Paris, France,
where, by happenstance, people may unite
seeking merriment or discrete romance.
***
Specific Types of Paris Poems
Definition | What is Paris in Poetry?