Snapshots

[Pendragon]

A young girl, thin as a twig,
clack-clack-clacks her way
on stiletto heels
at the end of her even thinner legs

Love this one! It could be a description of my niece. Lord that girl is thin and all legs! Getting married next month at 21. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

For a moment or two
this St John the Baptist holiday
there is no one and nothing outside the café
but the sun that picks out every detail of the street,
the low and sometimes impatient
susurrus of the passing cars,
the voices of Nathalie
and a couple of customers
through the wide-open windows
and the leaves that may be murmuring
their quiet, matutinal prayers

[ampoule]

I would not be able to frame this picture because it moves. I love the way it comes to life, the way mornings do.

[PrinceMyshkin]

An almost alarmingly pregnant woman
goes by, her abdomen
like Kilimanjaro on the horizontal

[_Shannon_]

As someone who has been pregnant every other year for the past decade and a half.... I LOVE this one! Belly like Kilimanjaro, indeed!

[PrinceMyshkin]

As someone who has been pregnant every other year for the past decade and a half.... I LOVE this one! Belly like Kilimanjaro, indeed!

Count yourself fortunate that it didn't resemble Everest and that neither Hillary nor Sherpa Tenzing were in the vicinity!

[Sweets America]

An almost alarmingly pregnant woman
goes by, her abdomen
like Kilimanjaro on the horizontal


:lol: That's so you!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman comes into view,
like a cross between Mother Goose
and the lead locomotive,
her height accentuated
by the train
of parti-coloured
goslings trailing after her.

“Bonjours, les bébittes,"(bugs)
I call out to them.
Some wave at me, some smile, some
look puzzled. “Nous ne sommes pas
des bébittes," one blonde, curly-headed kid
calls out to me.

“Non?” I say, astonished.
“Non,” he continues, “nous sommes
des humains, des enfants!”

Come to find out!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A turbanned black woman
in a brilliant floral print dress
teeters on chicken legs
across an incurious street

[Sweets America]

A woman comes into view,
like a cross between Mother Goose
and the lead locomotive,
her height accentuated
by the train
of parti-coloured
goslings trailing after her.

“Bonjours, les bébittes,"(bugs)
I call out to them.
Some wave at me, some smile, some
look puzzled. “Nous ne sommes pas
des bébittes," one blonde, curly-headed kid
calls out to me.

“Non?” I say, astonished.
“Non,” he continues, “nous sommes
des humains, des enfants!”

Come to find out!


I understand now! It was "les bébêtes"! Nothing to do with les bibites! :lol:

[PrinceMyshkin]

I understand now! It was "les bébêtes"! Nothing to do with les bibites! :lol:

You Franch! You speak a language all your hown, eh?

[PrinceMyshkin]

A child the size of a sweet
jelly bean
rides on the shoulders
of her massive papa
bouncing up and down
with every step he takes.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A tiny, ancient Chinese woman,
whose footsteps are like small,
cautious bites of an over-rich food,
pauses to sneeze
and I watch in concern
lest the force of it
take her straight up into the air.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young Khassidic woman,
wearing the sort of coarse cotton stockings
meant to make her legs
unappealing to strangers,
hurries up to the school-bus
that has stopped for her, and I note,
with pleasure in equal parts
lascivious and anti-religious,

how shapely are her legs!

[ampoule]

Oh Prince! Sweet jellybean child, small footsteps, cautious bites, such images I love. I just hate to keep saying it over and over, that thing about being amazing.
And lxxiv, I'm reminded of a woman jazz singer in a smokey bar playing the piano and watching the antics of Rock Hudson with Doris Day and she adds to her lyrics, "You dawg you." ;) :D

[firefangled]

This is such a beautiful and well wrought image.

[PrinceMyshkin]

"You dawg you." ;) :D

Wonderful! You're in GREAT company! The last time somebody called me that - maybe 6 years ago - it was Pat S. who was at the time a prominent official at FBI headquarters, and because of her androgynous first name I had initially assumed she was male.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young man sits at one of the outdoor tables
with an older male friend.
A young woman appears
from around the corner
and he leaps up
and the two of them move into a kiss,
pull back maybe all of an inch
then move in for another one.

From this angle I can see
the dimple deep in his cheek
and the way her eye crinkles
with the whole of her love

[PrinceMyshkin]

An elderly man in three-piece suit,
open-necked dress shirt,
carrying a furled umbrella
like a jaunty walking stick,

pauses at the trash bin
outside the restaurant,
looks expertly in,
retrieves a half-eaten bun

and carries on along his way.

[Pendragon]

An elderly man in three-piece suit,
open-necked dress shirt,
carrying a furled umbrella
like a jaunty walking stick,

pauses at the trash bin
outside the restaurant,
looks expertly in,
retrieves a half-eaten bun

and carries on along his way.


To feed the pigeons, I hope? I hope the poor guy wasn't that badly in need of food!

[PrinceMyshkin]

To feed the pigeons, I hope? I hope the poor guy wasn't that badly in need of food!

I find this an interesting manifestation of the difference in your and my take on life! There was nothing in the scene as I recall it that could objectively disprove your hypothesis but though I hope I haven't tilted the picture one way or another, what you suggest did not even come close to occuring to me!

I DID think there was something a touch furtive in the way he paused before looking into the trash bin, a slight tensing in his back or shoulders in case he was being observed, but that could easily have been my projection as to how I would feel if I were in what I imagined to be his situation.

[CdnReader]

An elderly man in three-piece suit,
open-necked dress shirt,
carrying a furled umbrella
like a jaunty walking stick,

pauses at the trash bin
outside the restaurant,
looks expertly in,
retrieves a half-eaten bun

and carries on along his way.


Gosh. You see it all in Montreal, don'cha?

[PrinceMyshkin]

A turbanned black woman
in a brilliant floral print dress
teeters on chicken legs
across an incurious street.

[Pendragon]

A turbanned black woman
in a brilliant floral print dress
teeters on chicken legs
across an incurious street.


You seem to like my take on your snapshots, so I'll give this one a go. Your mention of "chicken legs" brings to mind a stout figure in the dress, the legs viewd below seemingly to fragile to carry the woman, and out of proportion with the upper half. That gives the image of a chicken. :wave:

[PrinceMyshkin]

a man marches by
as if impatient to encounter the enemy,
his mouth set
like a land-mine

[Sweets America]

a man marches by
as if impatient to encounter the enemy,
his mouth set
like a land-mine


Reminds me of what you say about me sometimes!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Reminds me of what you say about me sometimes!

About your mouth, or---?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Five old friends
around a wrought-iron table
outside La Croissanterie
and Lalu, their waitress,
19 and worthy of a black-belt
in pleasantness

[PrinceMyshkin]

The next table over,
this lonely moment,
a woman with jet-black hair,
sun-glasses California-style
on top of her head,
a solitary mole on her neck,
sits immersed in her Journal de Montréal.

'Give me a word,'
I’m tempted to lean over
and say to her: 'Any word...'

[ampoule]

I will give you a word......Pierian Spring. Okay, so that's two.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I will give you a word......Pierian Spring. Okay, so that's two.

That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow? :bawling: :bawling: :bawling:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.

[ampoule]

That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow? :bawling: :bawling: :bawling:

Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!

[Sweets America]

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.


Jesus Christ! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!

[AimusSage]

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.


Woohoo! woohoo! now this is awesome :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!


There's an empty chair
across the table from me
at my 'synagogue'
and it bears, in avance,
the imprint of your derriere!

'Synagogue' is how I refer to the Arts Cafe, corner Fairmount and Esplanade, should any of you care to drop in for the norning service of espresso and croissant, NOT the very best croissants in Montreal, for which we'd have to go to Le Paltoguet, Van Horne near Outremont

[PrinceMyshkin]

Jesus Christ! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!

Merci, ma petite ange pas entierement peccable! I know what a hard marker you are!

But at the risk of sounding boastful, I suggest you wait for a subsequent one written in the same place more or less at the same time, maybe not so striking as poetry but written with great, great tenderness...

[PrinceMyshkin]

At Tutto Bene part 2



One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there

[Umbilical]

That's how I feel when I'm with a woman/

[AuntShecky]

Sacre bleu! It's all happening North of the border! Maybe if the Expos had read your Snapshots, they never would've moved to D.C.

Certainly they played better in the shadow of the Laurentians rather than in the bright lights of the Potomac!

[Pendragon]

At Tutto Bene part 2



One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there


Beautiful snapshot!

[ampoule]

Beautiful snapshot!

Yes, I adore it.

[Sweets America]

At Tutto Bene part 2



One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there


Wow!!! This is wonderful, surprising, and so sweet. And of course, very well written. ;)

[firefangled]

Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.




Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.


Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.


At Tutto Bene part 2



One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there


Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.



Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.



Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!

Thank you indeed. It must be apparent how much pleasure I get writing these. Not that I always achieve this, but my two aesthetic rules are 1) Do it with the absolute minimum of words; and 2) keep the author's ego - or even the shadow of his ego - out of it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A thin, white Rastifari
with one dreadlock
trailing from under his knitted cap
where, he assures me, he’s got
a whole lot more, announces his arrival
before I catch sight of him,
by talking out loud to himself,

pauses at my table, apologizes,
introduces me to his Pit Bull, Akira,
which means “love” in Japanese, he says.

He offers three times to buy me a cup of coffee
though there’s one on the table in front of me.
“Allen,” he says, when I ask for his name,
“but some folk call me ‘Stretch.’”

[PrinceMyshkin]

A sort, dark-bearded khassid
waddles up Van Horne,
like not much more
than legs
attached to a broad-brimmed black hat

[PrinceMyshkin]

From where I sit I can hear
the clack-clack tch-clack
of high heels on the hard pavement,
and I reflect how each of us
has his or her own unique
clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
as we hobble or stride
around the universe.

[dibyendra]

From where I sit I can hear
the clack-clack tch-clack
of high heels on the hard pavement,
and I reflect how each of us
has his or her own unique
clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
as we hobble or stride
around the universe.

I liked it very much. :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.

[Sweets America]

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.


Beautiful emotion here. I might be repeating myself, but you have this thing to capture moments like this.

[dibyendra]

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.


Ah, what an outstanding poem you've written, Jerry. I'm really carried away by your poem. Keep up your great work! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man approaches the café
wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
with more pockets
then there are things to put in them,
pristine white sneakers,
and spends each footstep
tentatively, as if the ground
might be radio-active

[ampoule]

I love it when you get home and bring me a special treat.

[Sweets America]

A man approaches the café
wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
with more pockets
then there are things to put in them,
pristine white sneakers,
and spends each footstep
tentatively, as if the ground
might be radio-active


Funny ending!
Hey, where are you? It feels as if you just slipped through my fingers!

[PrinceMyshkin]

These Khassidic women and girls
in the dowdiest of clothes
and with their solemn, long-suffering faces...

Is it not some other form of vanity
to present oneself so unattractively?

[ampoule]

Oh, I couldn't agree more. Makes me think that the Amish are a horse 'n buggy gang. ;)
Another good picture.

[firefangled]

Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.

I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.

I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.

Ah, you were prompted in this last by the estimable Dona Ampoule's reference to the Amish, which reminded you of that glorious scene in Witness ?

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the end of the terrace
a scruffy, emaciated guy
in loose green t-shirt,
capris and flip-flops,
his bicycle nearby,
front wheel minus a tire,
tugs at the cigarette he bummed from me

and runs a monologue
either at the air
or at the young woman
at the table between us,
one-third his age,
twice his size,
brimming with physical good health

[PrinceMyshkin]

I notice N. go by without seeing me,
an older woman I once thought
had her sights on me,
now seemingly fallen in on herself,
4/5 her former height

[dibyendra]

There are ample of great poems to read and you have portrayed so many captured moments here in this thread. Thanks a lot for keeping this thread alive. This will be a great poetry book after compilation. Keep up your great work!!! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche

[PrinceMyshkin]

a young woman,
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion

[Umbilical]

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche


I understand that feeling (in my own way).
Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.

[ampoule]

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche


Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture. :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture. :D

Yes, I see your point. It's more an inner snapshot than the sort I prefer to make.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I understand that feeling (in my own way).
Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.

You know, with some sensitive attention to the line breaks, this might make a poignant poem.

[kiz_paws]

Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems.

I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing.

Keep 'em coming!

K♥zzo

[firefangled]

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche


Love the way this works, or the way I think it works with sushi. Never could figure people like that.




a young woman,
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion



I had to laugh trying to envision an animated woman who looks like a jolly stuffed cabbage. The sounds go so well against the comparison with her companion.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems.

I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing.

Keep 'em coming!

K♥zzo

Just guessing, mind you, but I think one could do a whole lot worse than to have you as a friend. Yup, a whole lot worse!


Love the way this works, or the way I think it works with sushi. Never could figure people like that.

Very little I dislike more than to pass up an appreciation of my astuteness but really I had no idea that the sushi was a relevant part of the observation, other than it happened to be there. And if you're ever in these parts, here's an offer to take you to that particular place


Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.

Further to my other response to you, if you were to imagine Hazel as a cliche you might not be far off the mark, because she's constructed herself as a character and don't most characters come from Central Casting and are therefore to some degree or other cliches?

[firefangled]

Very little I dislike more than to pass up an appreciation of my astuteness but really I had no idea that the sushi was a relevant part of the observation, other than it happened to be there. And if you're ever in these parts, here's an offer to take you to that particular place

When I read it, I thought of the way sushi is often sliced into flat pieces. It worked for me.

I accept your offer I love sushi.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Early Saturday evening
The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
The air feels like something is being withheld
The buildings are like a stage set
about to be struck
before the show goes on the road

[Virgil]

Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems.

I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing.

Keep 'em coming!

K♥zzo

I agree with Kizzo. This thread is a gem. :thumbs_up

[Umbilical]

You know, with some sensitive attention to the line breaks, this might make a poignant poem.

All of my poems are fu.ck ups, all of my attempts are attempts.
I talk like this often in real life,
I have someone following me around with a pen...
only they're shoving it up their as.s and getting OFF on the
instrument
rather than on the poetry - the message, big boy.


sing it for me.


...ladeeda, I need to be with my woman in America especially when she whimpers for peace.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman with a long,
loose, lazy body
exits the café
wearing a grey, brushed-cotton
panty and halter-top combination
every sashay of her hips proclaiming
I don’t give a damn! I don’t give a damn!
I really, really don’t give a damn!

[Umbilical]

you should put these pictures - snapshots,
up on myspace.
everyone always says "you look way better on myspace than in real life."
lucky for me I look good all over the place, all over someone

[Pendragon]

A young woman with a long,
loose, lazy body
exits the café
wearing a grey, brushed-cotton
panty and halter-top combination
every sashay of her hips proclaiming
I don’t give a damn! I don’t give a damn!
I really, really don’t give a damn!Reminds me of a gal I used to work with. We called her "The Washing Machine" because of the way she walked! :lol:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
a man with a disfigured face,
the whole of the right side of it
seemingly caved in.

I struggle not to look

[Sweets America]

Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
a man with a disfigured face,
the whole of the right side of it,
seemingly caved in.
I struggle not to look


Striking! I like the ambiguity of it, the "not to look" and how it contrasts with the fact that the speaker must have looked in order to say this about that man's face. The reference to the frozen desserts perfectly fits too, thanks to the contrast between the ideas behind both words. There is so much in this poem, Shoutie!

[Virgil]

Early Saturday evening
The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
The air feels like something is being withheld
The buildings are like a stage set
about to be struck
before the show goes on the road


This one was particularly poignant for me: "The buildings are like a stage set/about to be struck." Given that I'm from New York and lived through 9/11 those lines resonate for me. I don't know if you had that on your mind Prince.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This one was particularly poignant for me: "The buildings are like a stage set/about to be struck." Given that I'm from New York and lived through 9/11 those lines resonate for me. I don't know if you had that on your mind Prince.

I did not. But your mention of it reminded me how none of us who live elsewhere can imagine, perhaps, what a profound shock it must have been to the US nervous system when the WTC & the Pentagon were attacked and the White House might have been...

[simplyme]

Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
a man with a disfigured face,
the whole of the right side of it
seemingly caved in.

I struggle not to look


Jer asked me to post this in response to his.

He stood at the dessert counter,
his first time in public since it happened.
Months had gone by with out knowing if he would meet with disapproval
as even he feared the mirror's image,
covering each with cloths so he wouldn't see.
AND glass! He had to look the other way, for glimpses were horrific to him.
But they said he had to go out in the world
to meet whatever waited for him.
So, he decided to treat himself to dessert.
But the way others looked away and never met his glances
told him what he thought was true.
He left the dessert and walked home,
closed the door
and stayed.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Jer asked me to post this in response to his.

He stood at the dessert counter,
his first time in public since it happened.
Months had gone by with out knowing if he would meet with disapproval
as even he feared the mirror's image,
covering each with cloths so he wouldn't see.
AND glass! He had to look the other way, for glimpses were horrific to him.
But they said he had to go out in the world
to meet whatever waited for him.
So, he decided to treat himself to dessert.
But the way others looked away and never met his glances
told him what he thought was true.
He left the dessert and walked home,
closed the door
and stayed.

Hey Gang? Will you please join me in extending a hearty welcome to this friend of mine! And let me personally welcome you, my friend!

[kiz_paws]

Both poems say so much ... I enjoyed them both immensely.

And yes, a very warm welcome to you, simplyme. :)

I thought of you today, Jer, and how adept you are at capturing so much into a wee little snapshot -- a young girl was sporting a pair of very glamorous high heeled shoes, but I fear that the heel was too high and too skinny. Anyhow, it reminded me of a new-born horse that was getting up for the first time, and the way that they wobble ...

Well anyhow, I thought that you'd have said it better poetically, and yeah, thats what I wanted to share... :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Both poems say so much ... I enjoyed them both immensely.

And yes, a very warm welcome to you, simplyme. :)

I thought of you today, Jer, and how adept you are at capturing so much into a wee little snapshot -- a young girl was sporting a pair of very glamorous high heeled shoes, but I fear that the heel was too high and too skinny. Anyhow, it reminded me of a new-born horse that was getting up for the first time, and the way that they wobble ...

Well anyhow, I thought that you'd have said it better poetically, and yeah, thats what I wanted to share... :)

Oh, Kizzeroni! We all share what we can - in your case a most spontaneous, friendly warmth!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Michel, the owner of the café,
strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
He tells me of how he “came out,”
first to his gay older sister,
then to his very Catholic Maman.

He tells me of how, at age 15,
he came home once at 4 a.m.
to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
waiting for him. “Maman,”
he said to her: “You need your sleep!
You don’t have to worry about me.
I’m not on drugs,
I’m not an alcoholic,
I was just out having fun with my friends.”
And how she never sat up again after that.

He prefers “uncomplicated people,”
hates “drama-queens.”
Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
he is at rest.

[CdnReader]

Michel, the owner of the café,
strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
He tells me of how he “came out,”
first to his gay older sister,
then to his very Catholic Maman.

He tells me of how, at age 15,
he came home once at 4 a.m.
to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
waiting for him. “Maman,”
he said to her: “You need your sleep!
You don’t have to worry about me.
I’m not on drugs,
I’m not an alcoholic,
I was just out having fun with my friends.”
And how she never sat up again after that.

He prefers “uncomplicated people,”
hates “drama-queens.”
Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
he is at rest.

Wonderful portrait (of the word-filled sort). Have you shared this with Michel? And how did he respond?

[kiz_paws]

Michel, the owner of the café,
strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
He tells me of how he “came out,”
first to his gay older sister,
then to his very Catholic Maman.

He tells me of how, at age 15,
he came home once at 4 a.m.
to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
waiting for him. “Maman,”
he said to her: “You need your sleep!
You don’t have to worry about me.
I’m not on drugs,
I’m not an alcoholic,
I was just out having fun with my friends.”
And how she never sat up again after that.

He prefers “uncomplicated people,”
hates “drama-queens.”
Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
he is at rest.Beautiful -- this snapshot has a soothing appeal to it, I liked the simplicity and honesty of Michel. :)

AND 'Kizzeroni'? Ha! I liked that too! :lol: Thanks for your kind words and for creating this lovely thread. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

From my table alongside one wall of the café
I catch sight of a slender Oriental figure
hurrying by. I race after her
and call out: "Madeleine!"
–a former student of mine,
now an established writer
with a growing reputation.

She turns and, recognizing me,
her eyes, as usual, disappear in the smile she gives me.
We chat animatedly, but only for a few minutes
as she needs to get to the post-office
before it closes and then
to a writer-in-residenceship
at the University in Shanghai.

"You have my phone-number," she reminds me.
Yes, but how to tell her how charmed
I have always been by her...

[kiz_paws]

her eyes, as usual, disappear in the smile she gives me.Loved it!

This snapshot made me happy in the knowing that someone who brushed shoulders with you became successful in this fun thing we know as WRITING.

Keep 'em coming, Jer (as if he needs encouragement) ;)

[Virgil]

From my table alongside one wall of the café
I catch sight of a slender Oriental figure
hurrying by. I race after her
and call out: "Madeleine!"
–a former student of mine,
now an established writer
with a growing reputation.

She turns and, recognizing me,
her eyes, as usual, disappear in the smile she gives me.
We chat animatedly, but only for a few minutes
as she needs to get to the post-office
before it closes and then
to a writer-in-residenceship
at the University in Shanghai.

"You have my phone-number," she reminds me.
Yes, but how to tell her how charmed
I have always been by her...



Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer? :lol: It seems like you have a desire for all of them. ;)

[Sweets America]

Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer? :lol: It seems like you have a desire for all of them. ;)

:p That is Jer, he's an eternal romantic! That's a joy and a curse all at once.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer? :lol: It seems like you have a desire for all of them. ;)

There was this one I remember, corner Hastings & Main in Vancouver, didn't do a damned thing for me!

[simplyme]

More for Jer: The good "ending".
"He stayed hidden behind closed doors
for what seemed like forever,
as his life was empty of human contact.
Old friends called,
but he avoided their invitations as he never wanted them to SEE him,
He talked with a new friend online, who only knew him as HE really was
and he was not afraid.
In only weeks, he trusted enough and told his problem.
He healed inside with the true friend's help,
and with new courage found what could be done.
As painful months passed, he healed,
and though not perfect outside, he became more perfect inside.
One day his eyes opened and he noticed it was spring
and the sun shone so brightly
The cold winter had long passed without his seeing that it was gone.
The light shone brightly across the room and he felt like going out
and to his joy, that was the first day he wanted to go out the door.
When he arrived at his destination again,
he entered and smiled
and almost everyone, smiled back!
And at that time, joy replaced the pain."

[simplyme]

Jer wonder how to tell her? "Yes, but how to tell her how charmed
I have always been by her..."


I think you just told her---------! This isn't exactly a note passed under a desk!

[Umbilical]

I don't think that you have to be turned on by all women, just turned on by different things within different people. You can see a facet of someone that arouses desire, or a part of your own self-lust in another...
(in response to Virgil)
Pretty much everyone I know has turned me on at least once...

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like this, dear Sharon, and hope you will begin constructing stories and poems entirely of your own devising!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Driving to the café this morning
I catch sight of a young woman
fairly coiled in love
around the baby in the crook of her right arm.

I stop the car, roll down the window
and when she has caught up to me, call out:
“Vous êtes en amour
avec votre petite ange, n'est-ce-pas?”

She turns toward me
with a smile like a morning mountain lake.
“Oui...”

Above her arm
I see a tiny, puzzled, brown-eyed face
and below it, dangling pink legs.

I ask the child’s name
and blow her a kiss.
“Luna.”

[kiz_paws]

Driving to the café this morning
I catch sight of a young woman
fairly coiled in love
around the baby in the crook of her right arm.

I stop the car, roll down the window
and when she has caught up to me, call out:
“Vous êtes en amour
avec votre petite ange, n'est-ce-pas?”

She turns toward me
with a smile like a morning mountain lake.
“Oui...”

Above her arm
I see a tiny, puzzled, brown-eyed face
and below it, dangling pink legs.

I ask the child’s name
and blow her a kiss.
“Luna.”
I loved the sprinkling of French in this snapshot - what a beautiful touch.


with a smile like a morning mountain lake.neat comparison, I loved this. :nod:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Three giggling girls,
students at the nearby high-school,
go by laughing in the carefree pleasure
of the moment and of their friendship.

One of them, a young black girl,
so top-heavy I wonder
what if anything
she knows of the rest of herself

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man goes by whose profile
reminds me of de Gaulle,
over a flag-pole spine
his head is tilted back
so that his proud,
almost arrogant nose
sails clear above the heads
of lesser folk

[Sweets America]

These two last ones are representative of your ability to see details and so many things about people and their self-awareness.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Outside le Paltoquet
two lovers stand
like facing cuckoo birds,
the mechanical sort
that bob and dip
into a bowl of water,
only these two
peck at each other’s lips,
kiss after kiss after kiss

[lugdunum]

Oh thank you so much for this thread PrinceMyshkin.

I've been reading your snapshots for about 10 days now. And fortunately there are stil somes I still haven't read....

It feels like having a box of really good chocolates. You know they're too good to eat them all at a time and that you should try to make that box last eating one chocolate at a time, very slowly.
But then they're so good you just keep opening the box again and again.

Bravo!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh thank you so much for this thread PrinceMyshkin.

I've been reading your snapshots for about 10 days now. And fortunately there are stil somes I still haven't read....

It feels like having a box of really good chocolates. You know they're too good to eat them all at a time and that you should try to make that box last eating one chocolate at a time, very slowly.
But then they're so good you just keep opening the box again and again.

Bravo!

I wonder if you can imagine how much this comment means to me? You know, when I composed the first of these it was for the pure pleasure of being a witness to what I imagined of someone else's life, but after I posted the first few and found that people were reading them, it became sort of a collaborative effort. I still do it for the pleasure it gives me of observing someone as clearly as I can, but I'm always to some extent aware of those who might be reading them...

[ctalerico]

Three giggling girls,
students at the nearby high-school,
go by laughing in the carefree pleasure
of the moment and of their friendship.

One of them, a young black girl,
so top-heavy I wonder
what if anything
she knows of the rest of herself

WOW!... but then, I've come to expect the exclamation point in your marvelous verse.

[Sweets America]

Outside le Paltoquet
two lovers stand
like facing cuckoo birds,
the mechanical sort
that bob and dip
into a bowl of water,
only these two
peck at each other’s lips,
kiss after kiss after kiss


Excellent!! Love the image!!


lugdunum said:
It feels like having a box of really good chocolates.

So true!! :thumbs_up


PrinceMyshkin said:
for the pure pleasure of being a witness

Very Kerouacian, this thing about being an observer! ;) Couldn't help it. :p

[ctalerico]

Michel, the owner of the café,
strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.

As others have said, Prince, this snapshot is wonderful in its encapsulation of Michel. In fact, it is those things you select to describe that brings him to life as if he were standing before me. Your remarkable eye for observation is equal to your writing skills--that certainly includes your ability to carve images with control and precision.




He prefers “uncomplicated people,”
hates “drama-queens.”
Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
he is at rest.



Early Saturday evening
The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
The air feels like something is being withheld
The buildings are like a stage set
about to be struck
before the show goes on the road


Another precise construct. My favorite so far! It delights and tickles while an undercurrent reverberates with profundity. Your intellectual honesty is almost painful in its beauty.



a young woman,
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion


How many people in the entire world--I wonder?--would think of a stuffed cabbage as "jolly" and infuse the notion in verse that makes one think: Damn, that's exactly the right word!

But then, that's what makes you so creative. Bravo! Bravo!


At Tutto Bene part 2



One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there


Beautifully sublime or sublimely beautiful, this perfect expression creates in me an exquisite rapture each time I "view" it; for this is much more than reading your verse, Prince, it's a privileged glimpse seeing through--not your eyes--but the every being of your soul! "As if painted there" takes me there every time.

You're as poignant as Brel, as subtle as Monet.



For a moment or two
this St John the Baptist holiday
there is no one and nothing outside the café
but the sun that picks out every detail of the street,
the low and sometimes impatient
susurrus of the passing cars,
the voices of Nathalie
and a couple of customers
through the wide-open windows
and the leaves that may be murmuring
their quiet, matutinal prayers


Honestly, you are to your verse what A.S. Byatt is to the short story (e.g., The Matisse Stories et al.).

[PrinceMyshkin]

Beautifully sublime or sublimely beautiful, this perfect expression creates in me an exquisite rapture each time I "view" it; for this is much more than reading your verse, Prince, it's a privileged glimpse seeing through--not your eyes--but the every being of your soul! "As if painted there" takes me there every time.

You're as poignant as Brel, as subtle as Monet.

You've picked out one of my favourites too, in that it recalls to me that beautiful image of the unity of the two of them. And the father's composure, the depth and security of the child's sleep, were in such beautiful contrast to the very busy, noisy atmosphere I tried to capture in the snapshot just before that one.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A seemingly humourless
middle-aged couple
pause at the entrance to the café,
then she, busty, inoffensively attired,
heaves herself up the three concrete steps
and he, thin as a famished weed,
follows

[firefangled]

I think what would be interesting in the book of these Snapshots (which would be a huge success, I'm sure you know) would be the occasional pencil drawing of the particularly engaging ones. Too many would detract from the how playfully and poignantly the reader's imagination leaps at each.

If my children weren't grown, I would read this each night to them for what it would teach them of how language is suppose to work.

I say all this because this one reminded me so much of the early sketchy black and white cartoons with the jazzy or swing soundtrack, but no dialog. They are priceless as are these.

Next time I promise to think of a better word than priceless, rather than repeat myself.

[CdnReader]

c

A man goes by whose profile
reminds me of de Gaulle,
over a flag-pole spine
his head is tilted back
so that his proud,
almost arrogant nose
sails clear above the heads
of lesser folk

Congratulations on 100, my friend. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

A thin, very tall young woman
wearing 2" wedge-heeled shoes,
pale, light-weight summer dress
and ash-grey, floppy-brimmed hat
folds herself into a chair
across the table
from her twinkling, mincing ju-jube
of a male friend

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young couple sit at a table
with the remains of their breakfast
between them. He, half-turned away,
immersed in a novel,
she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
her expression indecipherable,
the table uniting
and dividing them

[Umbilical]

That's really sad...
I'd rather be sitting with a stranger than with a lover who's a stranger.

well done. xo

[lugdunum]

A young couple sit at a table
with the remains of their breakfast
between them. He, half-turned away,
immersed in a novel,
she, dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin,
her expression indecipherable,
the table uniting
and dividing them


I always feel so sad when I see couples like that.

Good one :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

A tough-looking young woman
wearing white canvas gauntlets
gets down from a road-cleaning machine
and heads west on Fairmount,
her long, loose, blonde ringlets
at odds with her Don’t nobody get in my effing way walk

[dibyendra]

A young couple sit at a table
with the remains of their breakfast
between them. He, half-turned away,
immersed in a novel,
she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
her expression indecipherable,
the table uniting
and dividing them

Oh, Prince, you describe the glimpses so well! It's very touching. I liked it very much. :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, Prince, you describe the glimpses so well! It's very touching. I liked it very much. :thumbs_up

Many thanks for this and your other appreciative comments but note please that I made what I consider a small but significant change to that snapshot.

[PrinceMyshkin]

From my table outside Le Paltoquet
I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
Chinese woman’s face, incongruous
atop her taller than average body.

She looks back,
as if from her mountain temple,
at me, a lowly villager, one of those
who are forever beseeching favours.

[MorpheusSandman]

I'm very glad I found this thread today. Keep up the wonderful work Prince, for these poems have truly enriched my day.

[Sweets America]

From my table outside Le Paltoquet
I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
Chinese woman’s face, incongruous
atop her taller than average body.

She looks back,
as if from her mountain temple,
at me, a lowly villager, one of those
who are forever beseeching favours.


So good! The second stanza is the strongest.

[kiz_paws]

A young couple sit at a table
with the remains of their breakfast
between them. He, half-turned away,
immersed in a novel,
she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
her expression indecipherable,
the table uniting
and dividing them
Makes me want to scream at them -- its not too late!!

Wonderful snapshot, Jer! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

A mid-thirtyish guy
pushes a stroller so large
and high-tech that the baby in it
looks like a very young empress
serene and only casually aware
of her vast empire

[CdnReader]

A mid-thirtyish guy
pushes a stroller so large
and high-tech that the baby in it
looks like a very young empress
serene and only casually aware
of her vast empire


Londoners have the most amazing baby strollers I've ever seen, like small cars really -- complete with umbrellas, rain covers, hooks for purses, baby bags, shopping, you name it! I didn't get close enough to find out if they also have hotplates and kettles for making tea on the run.

[Pendragon]

I see those high tech strollers today and wonder where they were when I used to take my small kids on a hike! ;) :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

A Sunday morning club of runners
come chundling up Esplanade,
make a dog-leg at Fairmount
and continue south,
a forest of pumping
bare, male and female legs
beneath shorts, t-shirts,
sweatshirts, windbreakers,
floppy or stiff-peaked hats,
a fiesta of joyous colour and energy
in every conceivable colour and design

[lugdunum]

From my table outside Le Paltoquet
I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
Chinese woman’s face, incongruous
atop her taller than average body.

She looks back,
as if from her mountain temple,
at me, a lowly villager, one of those
who are forever beseeching favours.


:thumbs_up Nice one! I think that I can actually see that woman!

As someone mentioned before, if there ever was a book of these snapshots, a good artist could actually draw these people almost perfectly without seeing them, simply by reading your text!

[lugdunum]

A Sunday morning club of runners
come chundling up Esplanade,
make a dog-leg at Fairmount
and continue south,
a forest of pumping
bare, male and female legs
beneath shorts, t-shirts,
sweatshirts, windbreakers,
floppy or stiff-peaked hats,
a fiesta of joyous colour and energy
in every conceivable colour and design

Does anyone else think of butterflies after reading this one?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Four-months old Louisa,
who reminds me somehow
of a very young Winston Churchill,
wobbles on her daddy’s lap
and over his shoulder
engages with me and I swear
I can see the intelligence
growing behind her alert, bright eyes

[Pendragon]

Four-months old Louisa,
who reminds me somehow
of a very young Winston Churchill,
wobbles on her daddy’s lap
and over his shoulder
engages with me and I swear
I can see the intelligence
growing behind her alert, bright eyes

Babies often remind us of Churchill. Or WC Fields. Or Babe Ruth...

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman with sparrow legs,
pursed lips,
in a drab, lime-green cardigan,
arms folded behind her back
like the Duke of Edinburgh,
moves slowly up the street
in no apparent hurry
to get anywhere at all

[CdnReader]

A woman with sparrow legs,
pursed lips,
in a drab, lime-green cardigan,
arms folded behind her back
like the Duke of Edinburgh,
moves slowly up the street
in no apparent hurry
to get anywhere at all

Love this one. Great visual. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Without meaning to, I overhear a snatch
of conversation between two regulars
at the table behind me:
"the guy who built the boat
is sleeping with his neighbour’s wife"
and one or both of them snicker

[Umbilical]

haha, did you laugh too?

[PrinceMyshkin]

haha, did you laugh too?

No, but I hungered for a few more details... Did the (poor?) husband know anything of what was going on? Was there any sort of connection between the building of the boat, and the affair? When the boat was completed, would the adulterous lovers take off on it leaving the cuckolded husband staring after them?


I have felt that my own snapshots are becoming a bit less fresh or spontaneous so I'll be taking a break from them. In the meantime I invited others to contribute snapshots of their own...

[CdnReader]

Facing houses
with matching empty porch swings,
rocked softly by an invisible hand,
waiting for their owners
to join them in their
contemplation.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Facing houses
with matching empty porch swings,
rocked softly by an invisible hand,
waiting for their owners
to join them in their
contemplation.

Many thanks, D. Interesting to view things through another lens.

[CdnReader]

Many thanks, D. Interesting to view things through another lens.

Let's just say...... I learned from the best.

[ampoule]

Without meaning to, I overhear a snatch
of conversation between two regulars
at the table behind me:
"the guy who built the boat
is sleeping with his neighbour’s wife"
and one or both of them snicker

haha...think if that had been Noah...

Losing your freshness? No. Maybe you should do landscapes for awhile or a snapshot of your friends here. That might be dangerous though. ;)

[CdnReader]

Sunshine falls
wherever it wants.
I have no qualms
about chasing it
around the
house.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young couple arrive
pushing a stroller
with a baby in it
underneath a big, floppy red hat
(at least, I assume there’s a baby under there).

Later, as he wakes up,
the father takes him on his lap,
turns him toward me
and I sing to him in German:
"Kommt ein fogel gefloggen...”

[CdnReader]

A magic treehouse hovers
four feet above the ground,
bright yellow shutters thrown open
to welcome the sun.

To the left, a wavy slide
and three green plastic swings,
dangle, forgotten,
in that breathless pause
that is early morning.

Remembered laughter
echoes through the playscape,
now empty and still.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Love it, D., but I could swear I posted one just before you? Gonna try and enter it again...

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the supermarket
I follow behind my shopping-cart
with absent-minded efficiency
wielding it up one aisle
and down the other,
citizen consumer,
wondering what
have I left off my list
today

[CdnReader]

^^^ Love this one too!! Especially "absent-minded efficiency".... :)

[CdnReader]

A bank of silver and red
neighbourhood mailboxes stands tall,
-- resolute, shipshape --
arms firmly at their sides,
soldierly in their posture,
with a fixed forward gaze,
brooking no interference
to the work at hand.

Just to the left,
four bright yellow tubes
lean against each other
in a lazy, disorderly clump,
waiting for their morning feed
of the daily news,
looking more like the potato-peelers
than the regular ranks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

What a wonderful counterpoint between the martial posture of those public mailboxes in the first stanza and the seemingly undisciplined private (?) ones in the second - and I love the humour of the second verse in general!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Waiting for D. this morning
was no different, I suppose,
than waiting for A., B., or C.
had been or than waiting
for E. or F. will be...

Through the window of the café
I could see the mirrored reflection
of the ceiling fan,
turning, turning

[CdnReader]

Waiting for D. this morning
was no different, I suppose,
than waiting for A., B., or C.
had been or than waiting
for E. or F. will be...

Through the window of the café
I could see the mirrored reflection
of the ceiling fun,
turning, turning

Lovely, and torn through with the loneliness that we both experience from time to time. I love the second stanza. :bawling:

[Sweets America]

Waiting for D. this morning
was no different, I suppose,
than waiting for A., B., or C.
had been or than waiting
for E. or F. will be...

Through the window of the café
I could see the mirrored reflection
of the ceiling fun,
turning, turning

Love this one. The tiresome feeling. Love the image of the second stanza, but you should replace "fun" with "fan" maybe. :p However, your Freudian slip might show that something positive is still on your mind.


A magic treehouse hovers
four feet above the ground,
bright yellow shutters thrown open
to welcome the sun.

To the left, a wavy slide
and three green plastic swings,
dangle, forgotten,
in that breathless pause
that is early morning.

Remembered laughter
echoes through the playscape,
now empty and still.

Donna, that's a very nice one!

[CdnReader]

^^^ Thanks, Sweets. :)

* * * * *

It's an acre or two,
maybe a bit more,
is my best guess....
Deep green pines cluster
along the edges of the backyard.

The front lawn is vast and pristine.
The gardens lie, relaxed,
shrubs beautifully trimmed,
carefully following the delicate shape
of the bay window.

And on the gracefully curving,
brilliant white, concrete front drive
(no such thing, after all, as
common cement in this neighbourhood)
sits what looks like a brand-new SUV
in a shade of tan that perfectly matches
the colour of this gracious residence.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There is something about that SUV that so perfectly completes the picture!

[CdnReader]

Thanks, Jer. I'm unhappy with the last line though. I may change it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Jer. I'm unhappy with the last line though. I may change it.

Last lines are sometimes the killers, aren't they, and sometimes they're the whole reason we wrote the preceding lines. Look at the dilemma Virgil created for me by proposing that I excise the last 3 or so lines of "That boy is still with me..."

[PrinceMyshkin]

The summer sun
brings out legions
of bare-armed, bare-legged
young women
with babies asleep
like amulets
across their chests

[kiz_paws]

The summer sun
brings out legions
of bare-armed, bare-legged
young women
with babies asleep
like amulets
across their cheststhis one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.

Sweet! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

this one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.

Sweet! :)

Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal, too weighed-down with detail. My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details.

There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!

[kiz_paws]

My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details. And you are doing a fine job at that, Jer. :nod:


There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the weight of the little one is now evenly distributed between the shoulders (with lots of padding -- ever look at one of those 'thingies'?) AS OPPOSED TO the way that they naturally carried the infant in pregnancy (just their stomach muscles supporting the weight) ... or something like that.

I want to get one for my pet Pepper, but she is so noisy that I'd be doing a silly thing in that action. I am not crazy -- I saw a special one for pets! ;)

[firefangled]

Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal...

I am happy you could not think of the literal name. Often this is what germinates the poetry of something, certainly in this case.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman
–a girl, really
–perfectly shaped
in the proportions
of some smaller race,
wearing an unpretentiously elegant
brown flounce of a dress,
gets up from the table
and walks away
on tiny feet,
like the priestess of some cult
she knows nothing about

[CdnReader]

The last two lines of this one made me laugh out loud. Love it!!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A small, anonymous
Chinese woman
of a certain age
walks by at the usual hour
with her usual dog
and pauses, as usual,
to deposit something in the trash-can
before carrying on
to her - to me, at least
- unknowable destiny

[Sweets America]

A small, anonymous
Chinese woman
of a certain age
walks by at the usual hour
with her usual dog
and pauses, as usual,
to deposit something in the trash-can
before carrying on
to her - to me, at least
- unknowable destiny


This is strange, I'm somehow sure I have already read this, as if you had already written it before. I remember the Chinese woman and the fact that she threw something in the trash-can. Hum.

[kiz_paws]

A young woman
–a girl, really
–perfectly shaped
in the proportions
of some smaller race,
wearing an unpretentiously elegant
brown flounce of a dress,
gets up from the table
and walks away
on tiny feet,
like the priestess of some cult
she knows nothing aboutI could see her! Wonderful painting, Jer!

As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ...

Lovely snapshot! :nod:

[PrinceMyshkin]

As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ...

Yes indeed. I was sure that if the sidewalk had feelings, it was nonetheless hardly aware of her footsteps.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A lazy, sunny Sunday
at the café.
A heavy-set man
urges his body up the street,
a helmeted woman cycles by
with an infant on the upper bar
of her bike, a smiling young woman
walks her dog,
two elderly women
whose comfortable companionship
is almost palpable

[paperleaves]

I love your works. All of them are so beautiful and revealing, the scenes you create are incredible. Thank you for sharing :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

The neighbourhood rag and scrap collector,
who lives as if he were homeless,
wheels his bike
around a tightly constricted route,
its handlebars draped
with overflowing shopping bags,
his chin
tucked permanently
so deep into his chest
you can barely see
the grime etched
into his painfully abstracted face

[PrinceMyshkin]

On my way to an outdoor table,
espresso, newspaper, notebook
in hand, I catch sight
of a sweet-looking young man
hunched over a fluorescent-green
plastic Playschool computer,
the kind, he confirms,
developed for kids in impoverished countries.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” I ask in response
to his mild accent. “Nein.”
“Where...?” “Sweden,” he answers.

“Welcome,” I say, extending my hand
and offering my name.”Simon,”
he says and grips my hand
so sincerely that if I were a woman
I’d be pregnant now

[paperleaves]

“Welcome,” I say, extending my hand
and offering my name.”Simon,”
he says and grips my hand
so sincerely that if I were a woman
I’d be pregnant now


You are absolutely amazing. I love the above part..

[kiz_paws]

A lazy, sunny Sunday
at the café.
A heavy-set man
urges his body up the street,
a helmeted woman cycles by
with an infant on the upper bar
of her bike, a smiling young woman
walks her dog,
two elderly women
whose comfortable companionship
is almost palpableThis little snapshot left me feeling quite cozy indeed. :nod:
It was those last three lines, Jer. Awesome, as always. :thumbs_up


On my way to an outdoor table,
espresso, newspaper, notebook
in hand, I catch sight
of a sweet-looking young man
hunched over a fluorescent-green
plastic Playschool computer,
the kind, he confirms,
developed for kids in impoverished countries.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” I ask in response
to his mild accent. “Nein.”
“Where...?” “Sweden,” he answers.

“Welcome,” I say, extending my hand
and offering my name.”Simon,”
he says and grips my hand
so sincerely that if I were a woman
I’d be pregnant nowExquisite. No one says it like you, my friend. ;)

[Xillus_Xavier]

I was interested in checking this poem out because of the huge number of replies it has received. I can see why it has now and I'm glad I got a chance to read this excellent, excellent poem!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A short Oriental man
in flip-flops
shuffles by my house
each morning, a child
beside him or holding his hand.

The look on the man’s face
is so resolutely non-committal
I wonder at the fate
it’s meant to defy.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Waiting for the supermarket to open
I catch sight of two
antithetical characters:
a mousy looking woman
whose clothes seem intended
to make her, as much as possible,
invisible,
and a man with a scowl
and a five-o’clock shadow
that reaches from the neck of his t-shirt
to his dark, bushy eye-brows

[PrinceMyshkin]

Adrian invites himself
to join me at my table
along with his Modern Library Edition
of The Works of Plato
and we have a good
mind-banging discussion
of consciousness, reality
and psilocybin mushrooms
in the cold, bracing
morning air

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the Snowdon Deli,
at the table across the aisle from mine,
a customer receives his smoked meat,
lean, no mustard,
and a plate piled high with fries,
and immediately attacks them both
like a man on a mission

[CdnReader]

^^^ :eek: No mustard!!!??? For shame....

[kiz_paws]

Waiting for the supermarket to open
I catch sight of two
antithetical characters:
a mousy looking woman
whose clothes seem intended
to make her, as much as possible,
invisible,
and a man with a scowl
and a five-o’clock shadow
that reaches from the neck of his t-shirt
to his dark, bushy eye-brows
Jer, this snapshot is brilliant -- what more can I say? These two characters came to life in how many words? Awesome. :thumbs_up


At the Snowdon Deli,
at the table across the aisle from mine,
a customer receives his smoked meat,
lean, no mustard,
and a plate piled high with fries,
and immediately attacks them both
like a man on a missionHa ha, this made me smile.
And wonder if he wiped his face with the side of his sleeve ...

Great stuff, as always! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Here at Loblaw’s
there is no agora
but the faux-tiled floor
of the fast-food area

where descendants of Plato
and Plotinus gather
to chew the fat in rapid, demotic Greek.

The stuff that they and I eat
bears some sort of resemblance
to actual food, about as much,
I guess, as their small talk does
to The Republic

[poetman]

sad and beautiful, i like.

[PrinceMyshkin]

The short Oriental man
who slip-slops daily
past my house, pauses,
while the little girl beside him
–black, black bowl-cut hair
–fiddles with the catch
of her wind-breaker.
He has nothing but patience

[PrinceMyshkin]

“$1.39,”
the billboard reads:
“double cheese-burger.”

I walk by, wondering
how they can make it so cheap
and so nasty

[PrinceMyshkin]

The reciprocal smile
of a passerby
is to me a nano-second love-affair,
the whole of which
is bliss!

[Umbilical]

write about about nipples, seriously.


keep up the good work :) Hope you're well

[qimissung]

Here at Loblaw’s
there is no agora
but the faux-tiled floor
of the fast-food area

where descendants of Plato
and Plotinus gather
to chew the fat in rapid, demotic Greek.

The stuff that they and I eat
bears some sort of resemblance
to actual food, about as much,
I guess, as their small talk does
to The Republic

Wonderful! These are brilliantly observed. I think I might be inspired to write some myself.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wonderful! These are brilliantly observed. I think I might be inspired to write some myself.



I'll see you then
at some table next to mine
in this great cafe
called Le Monde!

[motherhubbard]

Jerry, I haven't been in the poem section for some time, but I had a moment today to look. I think this is my favorite thread. You brought a big smile to my face that will last all day.

These moments here were stolen from duty
But were well spent viewing
The walk in front of my friend’s house,
The table across in his café,
And unknown lovers passing …
I am an unrepentant thief.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Jerry, I haven't been in the poem section for some time, but I had a moment today to look. I think this is my favorite thread. You brought a big smile to my face that will last all day.

These moments here were stolen from duty
But were well spent viewing
The walk in front of my friend’s house,
The table across in his café,
And unknown lovers passing …
I am an unrepentant thief.



May I say to you, dear friend
(but how're you going to stop me?),
that love comes to us in many colours!
And yours - given your married state,
let's call it friendship
- is sort of a deep, deep fuschia!

[motherhubbard]

I like fuscia

[PrinceMyshkin]

At a pedestrian crossing
a woman smiles at me in my car
as if to ensure herself safe passage.
I motion for her to cross, and smile.
She does a double-take,
gives me another smile,
warmer, more personal

[Umbilical]

This last one is beautiful: a mini-love story that means the world.
A glimmer of what we hope for...

I wonder what she's like undressed.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This last one is beautiful: a mini-love story that means the world.
A glimmer of what we hope for...

I wonder what she's like undressed.

Gratified by the first part of your response. As to the last part, are you saying that you're, like, GAY?

[Umbilical]

Just extending the poem that your poem started in my head...


But, yeah :P. I like the purple.

Post some more pedestrian crossing poetry.

[amanda_isabel]

hmm. after disappearing for so long i feel like it's been ages since i read any of PrinceM's snapshots.

ienjoyed it, as usual, especially the ending. :) maybe because i keep a fairly straight face while crossing the street?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Umbilical, Amanda, thank you both. Relish the day that lies before you!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A school-girl walks by,
proud head held high.
Have you got any good news for me?
I wonder silently,
thinking of a good friend of mine
in Halifax, in hospital,
gravely ill

[kiz_paws]

At a pedestrian crossing
a woman smiles at me in my car
as if to ensure herself safe passage.
I motion for her to cross, and smile.
She does a double-take,
gives me another smile,
warmer, more personal


I liked this one for the reaction to the unexpected courtesy you extended, and the way you so easily put your thoughts into poetry. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, at the risk of sounding like a cornball. ;)

[PrinceMyshkin]

I liked this one for the reaction to the unexpected courtesy you extended, and the way you so easily put your thoughts into poetry. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, at the risk of sounding like a cornball. ;)

Cookie! You don't just "sound" like a cornball, you are one, but then we're all cornballs to some degree or other. The relevant question is whether you're a sweet and tenderhearted cornball or just the plain garden-variety sort!

[kiz_paws]

Oh, and by the way -- I didn't mean that I felt that courtesy from you, Jer, is unexpected. I meant that the woman hadn't expected it. Yeah I know -- I didn't have to explain, but then again, I wanted my thought to be clear as to my meaning.

I think that I am the cornball with the cheese coating; you know the ones? That you pop in the air and catch with your mouth, ha ha! :lol:

Cornballs of the world -- UNITE! ;)

Keep 'em coming, Jer. :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, and by the way -- I didn't mean that I felt that courtesy from you, Jer, is unexpected. I meant that the woman hadn't expected it. Yeah I know -- I didn't have to explain, but then again, I wanted my thought to be clear as to my meaning.


I perfectly understood that you understood and indeed it seemed to me clear to read that her first, sort of impersonal smile was replaced by one that meant Wow! A smile - for free! - from one stranger to another...

[kiz_paws]

**Nods** Indeed

Now, Jer -- can you put into words, the wonderfully blissful feeling one has upon sipping their first delightful cup of coffee of the day? This is something that no one has yet captured...

;)

[PrinceMyshkin]

As I bend down to tie my shoe-lace
next to his table,
I hear a guy speak into his cell-phone:
“Five years from now I don’t want to hear you say
that I didn’t try everything.
Because I tried everything.
I can’t be chasing you all the time.
I want you to call me sometimes...”

I walk away

[qimissung]

A school-girl walks by,
proud head held high.
Have you got any good news for me?
I wonder silently,
thinking of a good friend of mine
in Halifax, in hospital,
gravely ill


Isn't that life itself? To be out in it when your own heart is sick.

[PrinceMyshkin]

At Java U an elderly couple
labour up from their table
and hobble away.
The skin on his face looks waxed;
hers resembles onion-skin paper
folded and unfolded
over and over again

[symphony]

i love flicking through this album :)

[kiz_paws]

At Java U an elderly couple
labour up from their table
and hobble away.
The skin on his face looks waxed;
hers resembles onion-skin paper
folded and unfolded
over and over again
Beautiful, these two individuals became real and I watched them slowly make their way home....

[PrinceMyshkin]

Michel was out in front
of the café this morning
brushing away damp fallen leaves,
cigarette dangling between his lips,
regular-guy hair-cut,
clean-shaven cheeks and trim,
boyish body

[PrinceMyshkin]

A small, elegantly dressed black woman
hurtles down the street
as if in flight from some transgression
or in pursuit of her destiny

[PrinceMyshkin]

A couple of high-school girls go by,
one of them a perfect miniature
of a Woman, thigh-high leather boots,
stiletto heels, glossy
black hair, make-up
-–and attitude!

[kiz_paws]

A couple of high-school girls go by,
one of them a perfect miniature
of a Woman, thigh-high leather boots,
stiletto heels, glossy
black hair, make-up
-–and attitude!Great snapshot, and I loved the ending.

The line "a perfect miniature of a Woman" was awesome. :nod:

[PrinceMyshkin]

A suave grey BMW
sort of hiccups
over the corrugated asphalt
of an alleyway,
pokes its nose warily into the street
then slinks its way west on Fairmount

[PrinceMyshkin]

In my fractured French
I rattle away to Karim
and he, with his warm
Lebanese-Algerian face and soft
brown eyes, attends
as faithfully
as if I were his beloved brother

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the poetry reading tonight
I felt a bit more of my life
slip out from under me!
It was all right.
I hadn’t been using it anyway.
Still, it was strange to see it go

[kiz_paws]

At the poetry reading tonight
I felt a bit more of my life
slip out from under me!
It was all right.
I hadn’t been using it anyway.
Still, it was strange to see it goHave you ever read something so perfect that you wished to hell you had written it? Well this is how I felt when I read this, Jer. :) I loved this very much. :thumbs_up


It was all right.
I hadn’t been using it anyway.These were the lines that spoke to me ... how quietly and in a mature fashion, one can let go and make peace with an emotion ....

Hope I make sense... :blush:

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the table in front of me,
in loose camouflage pants,
matching baseball cap,
sneakers and a long
battle-ship grey, cable-knit sweater,
folded over at the sleeves,
a guy smokes a Turkish cigarette.
Beside him, a shopping cart
filled with refundable
soda-pop cans

[PrinceMyshkin]

Karim reports
that he showed the snapshot I wrote about him
to his daughter, Amelia, 20.
"Daddy," she exclaimed,
"You’re a good man!"

[PrinceMyshkin]

I look up, surprised
to see my old friend, Gerry T.,
approaching. Pouch-faced with age
but with a smile
as expectant as ever,
he’s visiting from Ireland,
came by expecting to find me here
at my usual hour and we launch immediately
into a 50-year old conversation
as fragrant as freshly-risen bread

[windblown]

Your snapshots are brilliant, this one especially so. This experience of taking up a 50- (in my case it would rather be a 30) year-old conversation is one I can relate to very well. To liken it to the fragrance of freshly-risen bread is a wonderful simile.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Your snapshots are brilliant, this one especially so. This experience of taking up a 50- (in my case it would rather be a 30) year-old conversation is one I can relate to very well. To liken it to the fragrance of freshly-risen bread is a wonderful simile.

The pleasure of writing these is for the most part its own reward but it doesn't hurt - no, it doesn't exactly hurt - to receive appreciation such as yours.

And in reference to your cyber-name, this Irish wish: May the wind be always at your back and the road rise up to meet you!

[SleepyWitch]

I liked that line best, too (a 50-year old conversation). it reminds me about one of my best guy friends, whom I only see once a year but whenever we do manage to meet up it's as if we talked to each other every day.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This morning a festival
of warmth. First Robert
(Ro-bear), the dishwasher,
comes by and bestows on me
a smile that is more gum
than teeth, then coming up the alley,
Geeta-of-my-heart waves,
in her other hand
her son, Divender,
just turned five

[PrinceMyshkin]

Today, as the sun falls away,
I get into easy, episodic conversation
with Hashem, a bird-like young man
from Pakistan, with flowing black hair
and a blanket thrown over
his slender shoulders,
and his companion, Katya,
robust, smiling,
like a healthy forest plant

[PrinceMyshkin]

Rounding the corner
I catch sight of a twisted scrap of a man,
swivelling on one crutch,
eyes wild with incomprehension,
beseeching,
his tongue flicking out
rapidly, repeatedly
as if in search for words

[qimissung]

What a nice way to end the day, with a cuppa PrinceMyshkin!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Luke, with his large,
good-humoured face and shiny head
without a hair north of his eye-brows,
sits across the table from Julie,
a girl still shrugging the mantle
of womanhood across her slender shoulders,
the two of them in the sixth year
of their second-date conversation

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman walks by,
her cheek pressed against her cell-phone
as if it were the chest
of her beloved

[Pendragon]

Luke, with his large,
good-humoured face and shiny head
without a hair north of his eye-brows,
sits across the table from Julie,
a girl still shrugging the mantle
of womanhood across her slender shoulders,
the two of them in the sixth year
of their second-date conversationWonderful words that keeps the reader in suspense! Encore! Encore!

[ampoule]

Where are you, Prince? Are you out snapping more pictures? The way you see people makes me want to.....see people. ;)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Where are you, Prince? Are you out snapping more pictures? The way you see people makes me want to.....see people. ;)

Ah, that is sweet! It's nice to be missed. There have been a couple of interruptions to my visits to the cafe. Besides, the weather prevents me from sitting outdoors and I haven't yet got used to my indoor lenses.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A girl, as thin
as a wafer, goes by
in one direction, followed,
in the other, by a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen

[PrinceMyshkin]

In a doorway,
tucked out of the cold wind,
a man with a ruined face
and watery, beseeching eyes,
attends to his cigarette

[Makai]

Lovely contrast

"A wafer thin girl..." and

"...a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen"

The descriptions of two wildly different women, unless of course, the mysterious Khassid is also a wafer thin girl. Delicious to think about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps the man's cigarette is the only fire available in a frozen cityscape.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Lovely contrast

"A wafer thin girl..." and

"...a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen"

The descriptions of two wildly different women, unless of course, the mysterious Khassid is also a wafer thin girl. Delicious to think about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps the man's cigarette is the only fire available in a frozen cityscape.

The Khassid I had seen was male. Kassidic women do not (as far as I know) wear black as their daily garb but the most extraordinarily drab dresses and stockings that resemble the orthopaedic sort, and of course wigs.

[Makai]

Thanks for clarifying Prince, I was thinking ir was something else.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man approaches the café,
reels as if from the cold,
his gloveless hands
drawn deep inside
the sleeves of his parka,
enters, speaks for a moment
with the counterman.
then leaves.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Pom-pom bobbing
atop his wool tuque,
a guy with his entire face
organized around a mile-wide smile
plows his way
along Côte-des-Neiges Road

[~Sophia~]

I love these short poems of yours. Little cliff hangers! And often profound!

[a_little_wisp]

Pom-pom bobbing
atop his wool tuque,
a guy with his entire face
organized around a mile-wide smile
plows his way
along Côte-des-Neiges Road


I would like to meet him. I love people! I like these!

[kiz_paws]

Pom-pom bobbing
atop his wool tuque,
a guy with his entire face
organized around a mile-wide smile
plows his way
along Côte-des-Neiges Road
This is delightful -- your opening line drew me in, and as I read I knew I'd not be disappointed. You always paint such a perfect picture of your visions in your poetry. I pictured the fellow's huge apple cheeks, rosy in the morning frost, and a thick accent français to boot! :nod:

Added bonus -- PrinceMyshkin has spelled the mystery word here once and for all. I never know how to spell tuque. :blush:

p.s. A person from another country was asked one day by a news person with Canadian Trivia questions -- 'what is a tuque'. Only about two people out of ten or twelve knew what it was. And a wopping fifty percent of the incorrect answers were that it was a 'lady's undergarment'... Oh the injustice of the wonderful tuque... :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Young women
wheel their babies by
in strollers.
It’s like a mobile museum
of freshly-painted masterpieces

[qimissung]

I love them all on this page, how you look at an ordinary person on an ordinary day and see a masterpiece.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Leaving the cafe
I come face to face
with a much younger man,
hair like red brick
just after a rain
and a moustache to match.

“Nice moustache,” I say,
pointing at it. “Thanks,” he says.
Broad smile. “You, too.”

[kiz_paws]

Young women
wheel their babies by
in strollers.
It’s like a mobile museum
of freshly-painted masterpieces
Beautiful. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

On the occasion
of his late mother’s birthday
my beloved friend, Michel,
chose to quit smoking,
making her, even after her death,
the gift of his life.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A tall, pretty Khassidic woman
stands on the stoop of her house
up the street from me.
Beside her, her tightly bundled
two and a half year old.

I stop and address her in Yiddish
and to my delight, she responds.
Later, I observe that not many Khassidic women
will talk with an unfamiliar man.

“Ich hob nit kein moireh,”
she replies. (I’m not afraid).
In the absence of fear,
I think, walking away,
there is all the more room for love.

[Virgil]

I haven't been here in a while. That last poem is quite nice Prince.

[firefangled]

“Ich hob nit kein moireh,”
she replies. (I’m not afraid).
In the absence of fear,
I think, walking away,
there is all the more room for love.


Now who is ending their poems prophetically?

One wonders when this day without fear will come for everyone.

[qimissung]

I LOVE how you sum up these people so pithily. And you see them with a such a kind eye. It is apparent that you love people. It allows us to believe that their is hope for humanity.