Category Archives: Poems and stuff

A Red, Red Rose

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Rose
A Red, Red Rose

Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)
 
O MY Luve ‘s like a red, red rose
That ‘s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve ‘s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

I took the photo of this rose in the beautiful area of Gorges du Tarn, which I visited last week and did use a little photoshop effect on it. More of my photos here, or here as a slideshow

Belated happy Valentine

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I wasn’t going to post anything on Valentine’s Day, this year, I already did in my French blog, and don’t like needless repetitions, but this morning I came across this Canadian blog named Au fil du temps / As Time Goes By –does this ring a bell?–, and there found the song My Funny Valentine sung by Jack Kerouac and thought it was too good not to mention.

More about My Funny Valentine

heart on bricks
Belated Happy Valentine

My Funny Valentine by Richard Rodgers andLorenz Hart
My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet you’re my favorite work of art

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little bit weak
When you open it to speak, are you smart

Don’t, baby don’t
Don’t change you hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine’s
Each day is valentine’s day

Stay little valentine stay, stay, stay
Each day is valentine’s
Each day is valentine’s day
Valentine’s day

What lips my lips have kissed

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Winter trees

Winter trees

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows it boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

I am reposting this poem, the first one I ever posted on this blog in June 2004 — also one of my favourite poems– with this photo I took a while ago at Luxembourg gardens in Paris.

Skyscraper by Carl Sandburg

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Poems
“Photos”
Blogging in Paris

 

The Chrysler Building The Chrysler building at dusk

 

SKYSCRAPER by Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

BY day the skyscraper looms in the smoke and sun and has a soul.
Prairie and valley, streets of the city, pour people into it and they mingle among its twenty floors and are poured out again back to the streets, prairies and valleys.
It is the men and women, boys and girls so poured in and out all day that give the building a soul of dreams and thoughts and memories.
(Dumped in the sea or fixed in a desert, who would care for the building or speak its name or ask a policeman the way to it?)

Elevators slide on their cables and tubes catch letters and parcels and iron pipes carry gas and water in and sewage out.
Wires climb with secrets, carry light and carry words, and tell terrors and profits and loves — curses of men grappling plans of business and questions of women in plots of love. (…)

  1. Yes, I know, this beautiful poem was written about Chicago…
  2. More of my NewYork City photos here. I’m still uploading.
  3. You will probably think I am crazy, but I’ve just opened a new blog, called Mon Daily Quotidien. I will keep a daily journal there and probably experiment with stuff like videoblogs and podcasts and such.