9 Rue Chappe - Paris

[~Sophia~]

The Difficulty with Paris

it was easy to deny wanting love in the desert
where prickly cactuses withered alone, dry
river beds littered with hollow skulls
and lizard bones

and I was clever to keep myself at bay on an
island where passion is slung like a machete
cutting through barbed wire; favors for trinkets
just a passport of necessity

but here by the Seine “it” summons you
with trumpets and church bells

in the song of mortared walls embroidered with
chantress moans and hard-candy kisses passed
from eager mouth to eager mouth and

everywhere there are two - walking past you
in a cloud

it’s here, on these streets and underground,
in museums and galleries, bakeries and cafes
that I can’t look away from eyes that return
hoping they will be my epic

[firefangled]

Sophia, your poem portrays the searching we all experience in our wanting love. The looks exchanged in passing we know so well.

[Bar22do]

Wanting love in Paris... hard indeed, especially in the winter! (to think I am going there myself soon for a time!) - but in the spring, Sophia, in the spring! the alleys of love are opening and you won't wait much for yours to blossom! thank you for your poem!!

[~Sophia~]

ff.. "that's the story of, that's the glory of ...love" Thanks my friend!

_____________________________

Bard 22... please keep in touch! If I am lucky enough to still be here in the spring we can espresso the night away!

[Virgil]

Very nice Sophia. It states it clearly and with solid imagery. :)

[dibyendra]

This is so nice poem! Loved it!



it was easy to deny wanting love in the desert
where prickly cactuses withered alone, dry
river beds littered with hollow skulls
and lizard bones




slung like a machete
cutting through barbed wire




hard-candy kisses passed
from eager mouth to eager mouth


Keep up your great work! :thumbs_up

[Bar22do]

We can espresso the night away even by New Year time - I'll be there already and will be in touch - through poems? you could PM-me with how to find you - I'll be close to rue Chappe! back to your poem I liked particularly:

"in the song of mortared walls embroidered with
chantress moans and hard-candy kisses passed
from eager mouth to eager mouth and

everywhere there are two"

and this is so very much true!
thanks again!

[TheFifthElement]

Oh this is lovely Sophia, I feel the longing.

[~Sophia~]

Thanks Virgil, dibyendra and Fifth! I truly appreciate you taking the time to read and comment!

__________________________

Bar22do - that's great that you will be in Paris soon! I've been having the most marvelous time and it will be nice to share stories with someone over an espresso (or several). Will you be staying in the Montmartre 18th arrondissement?

__________________________

[~Sophia~]

Gitanes - Je t’aime

One more cigarette. One more night thinking
fire. One more night wondering if love starts out
like a poem about Paris in the rain then, gets lost
in the margins.

So many notations, the oohs and voila’s drowning.
I’ve heard that you sleep untroubled. That you’ve
absolved yourself while my swollen gutters still
tide with the moon.

Float cinders - down the narrows past the banks
of that eve. A Lilliputian boat of tambourine skin,
a twig, a hummingbird wing and one wraith amen.

[Bar22do]

Gitanes - Je’taime

I lit another cigarette thinking - smoke - there
must be a fire but waiting for love is like waiting
for this painting to dry and what started as a poem
about Paris in the rain got lost in the margins.

So many notations, the oohs and voila’s I wanted
to show you until I heard that you sleep untroubled,
that you’ve absolved yourself while my swollen
gutters still tide with the moon and I know
I have to let these ashes flow

down the narrows - to the banks of that eve
a Lilliputian boat made of tambourine skin,
a twig, a hummingbird wing and one tiny
amen.

Ah, Sophia, yearning for love makes you reach the skies of art! what will be your art's hights once you have found Love... let me sense...

[~Sophia~]

Thanks Bar! I hope to find out some day...(by the way, I corrected that typo in the title... and now... an edit too! Sorry, I just can't help myself... sigh).

[paperleaves]

holy ****, Sophia, 9 Rue Chappe is something else, my friend! the paralyzing drift of loneliness in the winter is something I've been feeling a lot lately, and wanting to write about, but you described this so flawlessly, and easily. I am so pleased with this poem, thank you for posting! (especially the first stanza--I keep re-reading it--WOW!)



love
Kate

[~Sophia~]

Hi Kate - it's a bit of dreary day here today so I'm staying in and painting but my computer dinged me and there was your wonderful comment! 9 Rue Chappe is my address and I'm using it to categorize the poems I write while in Paris.

I hope your comment is referring to Gitanes - Je t'aime (the last one). But either way ... thanks a million!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Gitanes - Je t’aime

One more cigarette. One more night thinking
fire. One more night wondering if love starts out
like a poem about Paris in the rain then, gets lost
in the margins.

So many notations, the oohs and voila’s drowning.
I’ve heard that you sleep untroubled. That you’ve
absolved yourself while my swollen gutters still
tide with the moon.

Float cinders - down the narrows past the banks
of that eve. A Lilliputian boat of tambourine skin,
a twig, a hummingbird wing and one wraith amen.

Much as I loved the title poem of this thread, this second one has taken that over - to the extent that I felt I could smell the distinct smell of Gitanes smoke and could imagine the somewhat scarred table on which you wrote this, under perhaps a single hanging light-bulb.

[~Sophia~]

Hi Prince

Thanks for your generous comment. I was actually trying to play on the double meaning for Gitanes - cigarettes and gypsy. I've always had a gypsy heart but this place is starting to feel more and more like home. And yes, one hanging light bulb (not great for painting but I'm making the best of it LOL).

[~Sophia~]

A Masochist in Paris

There’s a line in a song that wounds me
and thanks to a killer IPod re-wound option
I just ironed a silly goose V into my
favorite shirt because

you never called me sugar*

not even with that eyebrow arch above
your coffee cup
you never called me sugar

so now I’m no one’s darling Alice
stomping through the Metro rabbit hole
in cuban heels, hair in a Marilyn lift
with each passing bullet - waiting
for my first tango in Paris

at the altar of l’église Saint-Merri
asking God “why”, but God’s too busy
handling his own second coming and
he never called me sugar either so,

I'm still here; re-wounding and ironing
in a faraway corner of the very same planet
where you never called me.
_________________________________

* from Pink's song Glitter In The Air (the line is actually "you called me sugar")

[PrinceMyshkin]

I felt a bit cut short by the last line where "you never called me" appears to be a different and more dire situation than "you never called me sugar." Apart from which I was mesmerized by the details and compelling swing of this.

[~Sophia~]

that's kind of the point Prince. I always felt a bit "cut short" too. Thanks for commenting!

[qimissung]

I must say, Sophia, I like this better than anythink else you've ever done, although I'm not sure why. Maybe because it lacks the self-consciousness I detect in much of your other work, as though the wind blew the curtain aside and we can see into your garrett for just a moment.

This is my favorite stanze:

"and now I’m no one’s darling Alice
stomping through the Metro rabbit hole
in cuban heels, hair in a Marilyn lift
with each passing bullet"

Welcome to wonderland, or the underground. Different names, but the same place I suspect. :)

[~Sophia~]

Thanks qim, though I think I'm pretty honest in all of my writing, but every day brings a whole new perspective on something or someone or some place! And it's that altering landscape that keeps me writing. (at least that's how it works for me). Bonne journée!

[Bar22do]

Hi Sophia! Another Paris inspiration of yours! so well done! I would also pick up the stanza Qim did, but since she did, I pick up the other best:

"at the altar of l’église Saint-Merri
asking God “why”, but God’s too busy
handling his own second coming and
he never called me sugar either so, "

I can actually see God busing him(her/it)self around with preparations for his second descent/attempt (?)! but didn't you know he calls everyone "sugar", so there is nothing special about it... The thing is sugar you seem to wait for is not his...
I admire your candidness and brave eye wink, while behind I can clearly detect that your heart cries... - and if I am right - stop crying!!!, so that you may hear when someone, soon, calls you "sugar" and invites you to tango by the Seine's spring banks!!!!!

Thank you for your lovely poem.

Love, Bar

[~Sophia~]

That's true. I never thought of it as God calling everyone sugar! Thanks Bar. You are always much too kind. As for me and a rendezvous on the Seine .... it's doubtful but I love you for saying so! Hugs

[Sampson]

In reading this thread, Sophia, I feel as though I have just read the memoirs of a love affair with Paris itself. I have not been to France or it's glorious capital city in many years, though the second poem in particular made me crave for the culture. I always loved Gitanes, and I can't think of anyone who has employed the pungent smokes in poetry as effectively as you did. A real poetic treat!!

[~Sophia~]

mmmmmmm, that's the inhale..... ahhhhh, that's the exhale. I am in love with Paris Sampson, thanks!