8th MAY 1945

paris4

a standstill, crystal clear night

under the amorous impressionism

of a chaperon moon’s intimate ogling

the lioness and the lamb renew an affair

settled almost as one upon Pont de l’Archevêché

sharing the of the last Gauloises, looking down and out

at the magic of perception over nature, the alchemy of the Seine

wishing they could turn back time, gather up those far apart lost years

deciding finally a discreet left bank boutique hotel too good a thing to neglect

now that the white dove has come home, the birds of prey flown away, a war done with

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49 thoughts on “8th MAY 1945

  1. I remember that day. I was eight years old. The war was part of my earliest memory. My mother was on the phone and she told them the war was over. I don’t recall what she said before or after those words.

    Thanks for sharing this memory.

    1. Mmm, yes! I was wondering about the structure of the poem, since I haven’t noticed Mike do a visual quite like this, but now you’ve pinned it. Lovely on many levels, Dear Mike. 🙂

  2. You manage the form without giving an inch on the well-chosen words. Very satisfying. Thanks for the imagination-triggers (both in form and content). Did the photo inspire the poem?

      1. If only that were the case! I travel around France all the time and chose to live as close to it as I could in England so as to get there as and when the mood takes me. Here in Dover I have a choice of ferry or Eurotunnel. On balance I reckon 3 months of every year I am in France. Our plan to move there, subject to Remain in the EU succeeding in the referendum, rather than this ridiculous and racist Brexit thing is now on hold as now I would have no right of residency there! Such is life.

      2. Hahaha. Well you can see France from Dover if you have an upper-story window, no? There’s a meme to take the edge off your Brexit woes. I can’t attach a jpg here, but it goes like this:

        Britain: Brexit was the stupidest, most self-destructive act a country could undertake.

        U.S.: Hold my drink.

      1. True. It was sometime after the event that my father (who said little about the war until in his late eighties when vascular dementia kicked in) who arrived back in Blighty a little late. He had to be fed up and re-organized by your soldiers who freed him from the POW camp situated next door to Krakow. He had left the UK at 12 stone, came back 7 1/2 stone poor chap. He stood 6′ 1”. My mother told me he was a walking skeleton upon arrival. Whilst I’m an atheist I still say, re the old man, ‘God bless America’.

  3. Hmm…you old romantic you! Seriously the shortness of the poem, the tightness of the words convey and capture so much of what it must have been like for people apart during these years. On another note young George’s classical piece IS amazing.

    1. That means rather a lot. I thought I had the writing mojo back…wrote a short story regarding a female time-traveller (you know all about those) yet Shirl (quite rightly) vetoed it as being too rambling. It took me two days to write for reasons unknown, so I thought stuff it and wrote this in 10 minutes.

      1. Mike, we all have days where we can’t get a word out for whatever reason. I sometimes think you can dip into the well too often and it does no harm to leave it for a day or so, let it fill up again. And this piece goes to show your mojo is there. It is wonderfully crafted and laced with the evocatism of that time. x

      2. I think I was lost to creativity when I spent all that time loading CD after CD getting my ITunes library back…still, done it now! As to George, he is on a bit of a roll and the business is starting off better than he planned…his mood is good.

  4. Fabulous news re George. That is a huge talent he has, vocally, instrumentally and also artistically. Some of his music could be film music, tv music, other tracks could be commercially viable. It’s the span that is amazing. I hope he takes off big. Yep your creativity probably was lost to that. It is arhd to be that way when there’s a task like that on was in hand. Anyway it was but a blip x

    1. I certainly cannot fault his work ethic, yet am aware I have to leave him to his own devices…bloody hard that is given I like a project! Still in the gym this very day, on the treadmill, headphones on, Annie Lennox on the restored IPod…bliss. What a voice that gal has. The opening line on No More ‘I Love Yous’ …’I used to be lunatic from the gracious days’ is Scots genius.

      1. I followed your rule this day and broke down the bits dear missus didn’t like, that were joined together and cuddled them into three separate pieces…a few years back I’d have hit the delete button. My thanks for your advice.

  5. A beautifully shaped capture of that moment when all’s right with the world – after is had been so desperately all wrong. I still have some pairs of long Parisian kid gloves, they were among my mother’s pre-war clothes, and with a fascinating logic there were Marigolds (rubber gloves) in the same drawer.

  6. Another intimate story told. I wish I knew more history, especially European history. My favorite line – “a chaperon moon’s intimate ogling”. Such a unique paring of words, that opens the stage to this tryst. I appreciated that the man was the lamb in this story. 🙂

  7. Aaaahhhh, Paris, romance on Seine, what a beautiful picture you drew in such a short poem. Loved reading it immensely. Keep up the good work and keep smiling always. 😊🌹🙏

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