Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Paris


Paris

The spires upon an ancient hill

Of old fashioned buildings

And a magic wind-mill

And old fashioned lamp-lights,

A colourful scene;

A memory of times past

My, how time goes so fast;

 

Where once there were fields and marshes

And people out in the country air

Taking oxen to market

Or going to a country fair;

Now  a wondrous city,

Amusements, entertainments

The city of light.

Where once there were narrow cobble-stone streets,

Now wide boulevards

 and city treats;

Statues on buildings

 coloured awnings

and graceful facades

Heaven’s helpers holding placards

Look down upon a city street

Where once did heroes of fiction weep

Or pray from a tower keep

To Sweet Genevieve

Of a Paris eve;

 

Where once

On a second score

The fashionistas

 had an encore

Red, blue and white

The colours of fright

To the very core;

 

The last refrain

Of a glorious reign

Spanning a thousand years or more;

 

The fleur-de-lis

Symbol of purity

God given right

To His Majesty,

Lost in the plight

Of a king’s fall

Perhaps now glimpsed

On the stage of a concert hall.

 

Roll call!

Roll call!

 

Drums were beating

Lives were fleeting;

 

Wind back the years

And all the fears

So often,

Ending in so many tears;

 

And into this fray

Napoleon found his way

The stage was set

For another play.

 

Where once the Louvre was a royal residence

Where a king and court resided

Now a place of fine magnificence

And tourists united

In a love of art

History plays its part.

 

Paris,

A place to go back to-

The walk along the river Seine

The bateau-mouche goes on its way

The artists’ paintings on display,

 

A Parisian place,

A Parisian way of life

A love of Paris:

 

The Seine Valley

Decked out in green,

Beautiful fields and meadows.

 

The lovely wild flowers

Of St Germaine-en-Laye

On a hillside

Overlooking the valley

In all hues

From yellow to blue

So enchanting to view

And behold-

A place to discover

The pleasure and beauty

Of the palace gardens

Of the little town

Out of Paris

A grand place in its day.

 

The moonlight

gives its soft glow

Over the roof-tops of Paris,

And glimpsed from a window

Of a narrow lane

Bring forth memories

As the links of

A long lost gold chain;

The pigeons of Notre Dame

The children sailing their toy-boats

On a pond of golden measure

Luxembourg gardens,

A real treasure;

These and many other things give

Impressions of Paris;

 

A pavement drawing

Coloured leaves falling

Leaves which flutter

on a soft breeze

Turn gold in autumn time,

The greenery of a summer vine,

The vibrant and verdant trees;

change orange and yellow

As seasons come and go;

 

In a faraway time

Paris lost its spell

Its charm and repose,

In winter,

A place where even the river froze-

But now,

A city, where so many dwell-

A city of great warmth

Where a poet, an artist or a dreamer goes-

Beautiful as a rose

Luminous,

 as a story-book picture shows:-

 

The mill of Montmartre,

The side-walk cafes,

The songs,

The music of Sartre,

Writers and poets remembered by name;

Stroll by a park

 Little merry-go-round

Illumined in dark

Enjoy a cafe as the sun goes down

Reflecting its vibrant colours

Over the river Seine

And inspiration is found;

 

And where from above

A loftier realm

The saints look down

below

A choir sings a religious psalm

light reflects,

a rose window,

glorious as a healing balm;

Statues step back

 into shadows of time

The glorious clock

Forever chimes

Now and forever

Paris for all time

 

The poetry of Paris forever rhymes.

 

 

 

 

2 comments:

  1. What a nice poem. You showed the connection between the past and present times in a very clever and harmonious way.

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  2. Hello Horvallis, I expect that all of the memories of Paris have accumulated over the years. A lovely city! Thank you for your message. Best wishes

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