Passion Paris Poems

The Last Organ Grinder
                    
 ...

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The pose
The steps
The posture
Fashionable designed
Fit to the fullness
Her passion unwinds.

In the line
The walkway
A runway
Overtaken
Stares and glares
As the Model passes by.

A Long extraordinary evening gown
With diamonds...

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       Stop so forcefully tickling me!
       Beloved, you make me with howl 
...

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Parisian Passion
Tilly came to the place made for romance
Paris the capital city of France 
The place where sentimental dreams are made
This was her most spine-tingling...

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*Image of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec provided by Sotheby's.

Lautrec At Night

He leads amongst the bustle
sedate naught condemn
the noise, music, and high kicks
late in the pm.
Paris famed...

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Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

My lover nude and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her...

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Le Balcon (The Balcony)
Charles Baudelaire
trans. Michael R. Burch

Paramour of memory, ultimate mistress,
source of all pleasure, my only desire;
how can I forget your ecstatic caresses,
the warmth...

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They looted, they pillaged, plundered and raped, 
Till you stood in the cold all alone,
In your beautiful city with love as a theme, 
They took...

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I’m exhausted with your caress
Through the force of your instinct
I will never fly in Paris
On the wings of restless wind.
I won’t taste again your kisses
I...

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 As I await, for my Lover to come to me. Visions of his kiss, feels me with ecstasy. Our love will explode, volcanically. Every...

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Paris the ideal place where a French kiss began
The country of romance and love
Love is a virtue we all long to endure
Romance and passion come...

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I met him at Cafe D L'Epoque, hidden down a covered passageway,
he watched me from his table and then came over;
I found him quite handsome...

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MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE & THE DARK LADY
Just south of Paris, lives the soul of me,
at my chateau, where few will ever see,
I'm compensated for the way
death...

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too beautiful for me? okay
I arrange my fluids
in curve ecstasy

a vibrant meditation
and it is all

I will be philosopher of love
an esthete of the bodies

without desire
without...

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Paris is where old lovers die
In cafes sipping memories
Lost loves like cream in espresso
Slowly fading, getting frigid in time
As I walk along the seine
I hold...

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