Comments
Ann, lovely - sheer loveliness in format, choice of words, images and brevity. 'fusty' and 'rusty' make a brilliant tie-together to envelop the poem.
Ann, how beautiful.
John
Ann, couscous and petticoats is a wonderful opening line and hands tied gently, of course, is even better.
I've never been to Paris (any offers?) but this is a lovely poem. The hands tied gently line got me too. beautiful. I love that it is snatches of memories it's sort of diffuse and intense at the same time, just like memories are.
x
Yes Francine - all we need is a baguette with bit of cheese and we could be there - soaking up the atmosphere in Ann's fusty room...
Chris - you are making me wish I could just up sticks and go there for a week-end. Poetry on the Seine - with enough of us out there it could divine! Somebody organise it - I've had enough of the Douglas.
<Deleted User> (7212)
Sun 28th Mar 2010 22:35
another great poem ann - I love the way the poem turns a corner with "hands tied gently....."perfect.
We decorate Ann's poem well with the Eiffel Tower and a bottle of
(what I presume to be) French Merlot ; )
Ummm... Make that a GREAT second best!
Isobel - you have to go back and change that memory - it's one of the most beautiful, interesting, glorious cities in the world!
Though the only experience I had there that echoed yours Ann, was the coffee... interesting memory.
Cx
I only have bad memories of the Gare du Nord Francine - plus an awful stint as an au pair on the outskirts where I was totally mis-used by the family but didn't have the confidence to put my foot down or walk out...
I'd love to return one day and have a similar experience to Ann! If that never happens - you would make a good second best Francine! LOL -
I'm sure it wouldn't take us long to find company anyway - just so long as we went somewhere a bit more upmarket than the Gare du Nord!
Sorry to hijack your poem Ann - it just brought back a flood of memories - mine all to clear, unfortunately.
Eh ben Isobel...
On retournera ensemble un jour.
Il ne faut pas garder des mauvais souvenirs de Paris... ça ne se fait pas !
Well it doesn't hold good memories for me. I remember missing the last train home there. After passing up on a rather dubious offer from the station master, I ended up sharing a room with 2 other students I'd never met before (one male) in a grotty little hotel. I slept with my clothes on, thinking I might wake up with a knife to my throat - the stress of it all!
Your week-end sounded like a lorra lorra fun...
Mmmm... Ce poème provoque de bons souvenirs...
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
Ann Foxglove
Thu 8th Apr 2010 15:22
I realised when I saw the mention in WALOP that I had talked about apple juice in this poem. But I didn't mean apple juice, I meant an art gallery (so easy to confuse the two - when you can't speak French anyway!) I think I have the correct spelling now. Nowadays, the gallery has a collection of photographs, but if it is the one I'm thinking of, it used to be full or Impressionist paintings. In my rusty bed post days anyhow! xx