Piaf Poems | Examples

Des Nuits D Amour

Des Nuits d'Amour
 

A fine tablecloth, Lenox china,
sterling dinner ware.
Tall, elegant candles in shiny
golden candelabras.
Un chantes, d' amour fill the 
starry night that I can smell in your 
heavenly hair.
The songs of Piaf and Aznavour
soften me, caught in this love-lair.
Massages and sultry kisses.
A sink full of unwashed dishes.

It's time we dance, mon trevor!
Blow out the candles and close the 
doors!
So that, we can, in sweet silence, 
become one with the stars.
Simply, gorgeous you and I!
In overwhelming desire,
to quench our insatiability.
Those glorious moments of fulfilling 
our hearts' utmost desires.

05/01/2023

Ekphrasis On La Vie En Rose

a dulcet dreamy rendition
of sweet symphony
paints  a cosmic light
inciting the sleepy moon
over the  silvery sea

as music soars~
I see clouds descending 
to kiss the silky shore
resting on his bosom

and as the music fades,
I hear him sings "La Vie En Rose"
in soft serenading tenor~
Oh, my life begins to glow in pink.




Notes: "La Vie en Rose" (French for '"Life in pink"') is the signature song of popular French singer Édith Piaf, written in 1945,[1] popularized in 1946, and released as a single in 1947. ( Info credits to Wikipedia). This ekphrasis is based on Richard Clayderman's performance on piano.


5 February 2022


A Strand (1066) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand strand
1st place

Another Summer

Another summer
Summer is over the night arrives hastily 
it was a delicious season spent indoors
his cancer didn´t like to sun.
To sit there and dream of summer wine and dance
reading brochure of adventures in Thailand.
Once he travelled to Paris, walked the street
trying to get a whiff when Paris was Hemingway´s
Ezra Pound’s Gertrude Stein’s and James Joyce’s.
Instead, it was another overpriced city
but he went to the house where Edith Piaf lived
her name was on the building and the street
where she had lived had a lived-in patina.
He was not invited, to a literary salon but 
Shakespeare’s bookshop took in two of his
modest book

The Little Sparrow

Edith Piaf was a sparrow
Who ignored the "straight and narrow"
No pure white dove
She sang for love
Just as wild as Cupid's arrow

Un Peu Piaf

Un peu piaf, rien de rien.
One makes memories, what do they mean?
Our small sparrow shall not fly again
when those notes fall on persons unseen.

Nothing for nothing, the time they spend
taking these steps, we can climb too tall.
In searching this earth to find one friend
much does not matter, not much at all.

Her vibrato voice marches to a trill
Edith's soulful songs mourn nothing then.
Tragic lyrics bend our heartfelt will
so truly too, rien de rien.

The torch of love light rises above her
God unites those who love each other.





A tribute poem to Edith Piaf (1915 - 1963),
the most popular singer in French history
Sonnet   98 words   9/4/21

The Last Dance

Forty three years of marriage and still you make my heart beat strong 
I never wanted to be anything else but your wife and loving song 
Together we walked, jogged and trotted but most of all we danced,  
to the rhythm of our first hello.  Every loving act was a show of love;   
When we were young we danced between sleepless nights and drank    
the brew of life as if it were a fox trot of maelstrom haze;  
Then the kids left home and we found ourselves alone again, 
Phonographic unused cylinders of time  crooned  again
with love songs from Edith Piaf;
You wrapped your arms around my waist and gave me a beginners taste  
Life had been good to us but oh how we lived it in such haste...,
Then we got a second chance, and we did it just so 
losing ourselves on the living room floor, 
we danced like newly weds on their wedding day; 
That was the last time we danced together without goodbyes,    
today all I own is an old phonograph, and yesterday's slow sighs. 

July 13,  2021

The French and I

It was so long ago, the camera in my heart, 
had almost forgotten it and so~
Let this be a tribute to Roget and his gracious 
mother, the owners.....
A French bar, Le Montmartre,filled with well 
dressed and well mannered Europeans, mostly 
French, to which it was a joy to go and to 
celebrate in.

A lover of Edith Piaf and Charles Aznavour was I!
Their soulful music made my soul fly, sky high!

Each holiday with only the French I joyfully spent.
I was adopted as one of them!
Granted, bars can be gross and rowdy,but 
Le Montmartre had love and class, I recall with a 
splendid sigh. 

If only my hand could reach back in time~but 
it cannot.
Without my French friends, the hills of San Francisco, 
my heart is both lonely and rent.

I heard the French are heartless people.
This just is not so, I tell you from three years spent 
with them..I want to shout it from the steeple!




            September 25, 2020
                  3:30 pm PST

I Love Paris

Paris is  this:
A comedian
on the street an accordion
that empties it"s
songs on the Seine ...
Summer is in the square,
From La Concorde or
anywhere, and the boulevards
crowded with cars
rolling ...
On the table bottle
 fine wine !
On the street beggars to controversy
the politics everywhere ...
They are always :
in train to discuss ...!
A decadent painter
paints a unique bleu sky,
two skinny italian
Chanel parade
on the sidewalk....
In the alley life is
bucolic and in a coffee
Piaf singing ... on
modernity one
 Voulzy repeats"Milady" without ceasing ...
The city is Paris all over
places ... latin quarter or
Montmartre only breathes
love there ... not
it's just lust
from bas fond or bar tabac:
The CAN CAN joy of
evolving legs
emotion ... even gives compulsion of
venturing around loving it ..
ah! Paris mon amour ... when
I'll be with  you over again ... when
you will enchant another time ...!

Des Nuits D'Amour

A fine tablecloth, Lenox china,
sterling dinner ware.
Tall, elegant candles in shiny
golden candelabras.
Un chantes, d' amour fill the 
starry night that I can smell in your 
heavenly hair.
The songs of Piaf and Aznavour
soften me, caught in this love-lair.
Massages and sultry kisses.
A sink full of unwashed dishes.

It's time we dance, mon trevor!
Blow out the candles and close the 
doors!
So that, we can, in sweet silence, 
become one with the stars.
Simply, gorgeous you and I!
In overwhelming desire,
to quench our insatiability.
Those glorious moments of fulfilling 
our hearts' utmost desires.

July 19, 2019
6:30pm PST

Sex Appeal

Sex Appeal

How do we know it ends?
Or....did we end it?
We declare ourselves no longer
pretty or handsome!
Think...Edith Piaf.
{ her bio is online}
Edith married a way younger
man.

She was a French chanteuse.
Hardly ugly nor her face the
color of chartreuse.
I think tis we who make our
sex appeal end.
No matter how, what, why. 
how or when.
We cast ourselves as "old. 
No longer, a sexual being."
And, with that, we ourselves,
Are the creators of our own
sexual attractiveness undoing.


June 6, 2019
10pm PST

Edith Lived Here

Edith Lived here 

Black & white photo
A house where
Edith Piaf lived
Casting a long shadow
On a summer street.
Blank windows
The house is unpainted
As always
Edith has gone
Her voice lives on 
She had no regrets.

Charles Aznavour and I

Charles Aznavour and I

Once in Southgate, I bumped into him
I apologised, so did he, and we continued on our way.
Further down the street, I said to myself 
you touched a famous man, thought of running after
him telling I knew who he was, but since he knew
this already, he would think I was deluded.
I later saw a picture of him on the door of a restaurant
Where he had a “gig”; one is modern.
The ticket price was high, and I didn`t care too much
of his singing, his public was for the cognoscenti
who had once been in Paris.
Me, I like Edith Piaf we lived in similar streets.

Piaf

piaf's powerhouse
'non je ne regrette rien'
     all ears on edith



posted on June 23, 2021

French Dream

i see your soul from another room
im trying to be with you but now its ruined
and now i cant acquire love 
since my sense is growing
im way to proud to show the slightest emotion

out at night calling
you cut off my oxygen
and ever since then i dont know whats been happening

its been a hazy crazy kind of life im not lying
and now im waiting for the right time
see i wanna make you mine
but how things are going i might need to delay
im waiting for the right day
but it feels light years away

i want to get you closer to my heat wave
maybe even save me your slave
bathe me then grave me in ways
always in this phase

and it feels like a grammy 
its happening
im telling you that youre perfect, baby girl just so perfect
im an addicted to you

cant get enough of that attitude
you turn make me crazy when youre being rude
elude the scene to be my queen
let me show you off
be my Edith Piaf
my French dream, you perfect human being

The Little Sparrow

(INSPIRED IN PART BY A SONG BY THE GREAT FRENCH 'SOUL SINGER', EDITH PIAF)


Should we praise the chanteuse
who sang "I regret nothing"?
Was she a saint or a sociopath? 
Did she forget the peccadilloes,
the slights, the insults and harsh 
words we are so prone to?

I regret so much, so very, very much:
the chanced shaking of another's heart, 
the deafness to her tears, the blindness 
to her unsung lamentations-- 
too much a coward to love,
I would run, run away, 
even jumping an ocean to flee
what was between her and me....

Now, aging, I regret I cannot make 
amends to those lost loves.
I cannot say, "I am sorry, I was weak, 
in fear of your love--
forgive me... forgive me."

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