Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
Welcome to Paris
Draw near, my dear, to land of dreams,
to shadows weaving silver streams,
to selenite on Seine to build
from man to maid faith's span instilled
melt wraith fence, difference, hope’s gleams,
will breach Bastille, leave each joy filled.
Joy's greetings send to one fair friend
who still dwells far, too far away,
our paths may bend, past troubles mend
through catalyzing star who'll stay
forever francophile, whose sway
shines, knows no whine, pluck joys luck lends.
Draw near, my dear, and take my hand,
far from oil spills, life's bitter pills
we'll travel through French wonderland,
whose parks and squares quite fit the bill
range Boulogne Vincennes woods at will,
change from restraints, paint town red and
without delay we'll double take
from lies, disguise, wise, understand
life's crystal beauty flake by flake,
love's karma written on life's sand
no second thoughts, naught underhand,
make no mistake, we'll, sharing, wake.
Draw near, my dear, let us sustain
shared strength, ensure tuned strings remain
strife and strain free, find buoyancy
to bounce back, track the way to see
horizons blue and to retain
refrain both optimistic, free.
From gay Paris Museums grand
we'll coast at leisure, east, and west,
north, south, all culture understand:
you are deserving of the best,
I'll satisfy each small request
fulfill all wishes fervently.
Draw near, my dear, though Past felt cold,
when nights oppressed, together bold,
we’ll weave sure way without a bend
from start to journey’s happy end,
where dark dissolves as warmth we hold
within with friend supporting friend.
Your eyes through mine may penetrate
the nooks and crannies of fair France,
Gare d'Orsay, Pompidou integrate
baguettes, black berets, and advance
to harmony as circumstance
lends second chance to celebrate.
Draw near, discover Montmatre's height
with church in sparkling marble white,
it housed the Commune's last redoubt
which put up sharp resistance stout.
Now tourist magnet's gaudy light
ignores past pain and freedom's shout.
On sunny days atop the hill
the panorama fits the bill
from which the Pantheon is seen
where brave are buried, setting scene
for view down Champs Elysées still
home to President's park green.
Draw near, my dear, here let us chart
the way to reach contented heart,
the way to learn, the way to teach,
the way where each may share with each,
the way pure ends, maintained from start
to end, lend, spend, send silent speech.
We'll visit the port of Arsenal
and venture up St. Martin's canal,
mock Time through rhyme, together penned.
May Royal Chapel witness kiss
right off the Richter scale to send
emotions' oceans, fears dismiss.
Draw near, my dear, thoughts two share, send,
should flourish, nourish, poor defend,
important message France wrote must
not be deformed, dust-stormed, for trust
support, shan’t ever condescend,
transcending dangers, stings unjust.
That message reads Egalité
to which Fraternité all add,
and, most important, Liberté
whose statue makes dictators mad.
There's every reason to be glad,
take French leave from conformité.
Draw near my dear, from cloudy skies
we’ll beam to light stream and surprise
whatever weather harsh would whirl
about, around, with squall, pall, swirl,
churn cream from mist dismissed and rise
with cheer sight clear, translucent pearl.
Descend down Catacombs skull filled
we'll journey up Eiffel tourist milled,
and you shall be my Eurostar
life lines uncrossed may no holds bar
to taste sans haste or waste hope's way
to seize each moment, see no scar.
Draw near, my dear, nor flood, nor tide,
shall break Seine's banks or override
endeavours, rainbow links, proposed,
nor undermine, design exposed.
The bridges that your love supplied
with grace in place remain, abide
and criss-cross Seine to make Thames blush,
to envy hushed, take time, no rush!
Fair France awaits for two to wed
and share fair future, look ahead
to challenge met and overcome,
to interplay, minds never dumb,
and when time comes, all's done and said
no sad regrets, no humdrum scrum.
Draw near, my dear, no strap sheet white
should trap your sap, wrap mapless night,
for sore, hurts, heal, hope sets fresh score,
links light to laughter evermore.
I sketch wings stretched for future flight.
For you I'd write, draw this and more.
If these delights your mind may move,
all lets and hindrance we'll remove,
refusinging grooves, French letters write
of bliss secure in pure delight,
what seems tale's end is start to prove
French Paris kiss bliss feels just right.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Welcome to Paris by Jonathan ROBIN )
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