O Death you are Man’s oldest joke Handed down from the original folk Who lived here before houses were built After Eve had experienced ouHalloween Review
O Death you are Man’s oldest joke Handed down from the original folk Who lived here before houses were built After Eve had experienced our guilt Hey guess what they said life ain't eternal Ha ha good one but why's Adam so purple?
Death you grave rejuvenator You sweet-talking exterminator In touch with the world’s latest fashions Dapper slim wicked and handsome You live alongside each of us And keep yourself androgynous
Without you Death there would be no laughter Though it's true you are no laughing matter And the poets you love to converse with Reenact for us the Orpheus myth You’re to poets what good wine to France is You're the bounce in the brain when it dances
It’s when you’re most serious you’re funny If you don’t see this Death you’re a dummy But really I’m just pulling your leg Your forgiveness My Lord I do beg This silly mood I am in you should know Is to be blamed on that joker Queneau
So spare me Death one instant more I promise I shan't be a bore...more
I’ve never really understood The poet Jean Cocteau There’s no denying he’s pretty good As far as poets go
But there’s so much I want to read Of time so lit I’ve never really understood The poet Jean Cocteau There’s no denying he’s pretty good As far as poets go
But there’s so much I want to read Of time so little left That I don’t feel a pressing need To guard this book from theft
So if you wish to break into My house and steal a book I have here a map for you To show you where to look
As you walk in through the front door Turn left and then turn right Then up the stairs and left once more And then switch off your light
That’s my bed and that’s my nightstand Feel its little drawers The one on top pull open and —Oh mind the hardwood floors!—
The two or three things you'll find there Are there for you to keep Now tiptoe on back down the stairs And don’t disturb my sleep...more
Max Jacob Wore make up Made poems Like totems Rambled long Humming songs On the shore Of blue Armor Then knew war First and second Bugles beckoned Death counts Max Jacob Wore make up Made poems Like totems Rambled long Humming songs On the shore Of blue Armor Then knew war First and second Bugles beckoned Death counts reckoned Good friends dead Full of lead Muddy bed Soul up fled From green lips Last eclipse Painters painted Women naked Writers made it Others faked it Jacob sainted And converted His subverted Extroverted One-of-a-kind Image-mind For religion Kept a pigeon On his arm Feathers warm Easy does it Fancy puppet Pearly wings When he sings Poet’s fancy Now in Drancy Memories Of extacies Hills and mountains Sunny fountains Playing footsie With a tootsie Dressed in drag Snowbound slag Crossing borders Against orders Getting caught Prospects naught Sent to work camp Where the cold damp Put a stamp On his lamp
Take a look At this book Man who wrote it Was a poet...more
I wouldn't recommend reading this the way I did: all in one gulp. There are 206 poems in this collection and some of them more that 1000 lines in lengI wouldn't recommend reading this the way I did: all in one gulp. There are 206 poems in this collection and some of them more that 1000 lines in length. If I had stopped and taken a breather halfway through and resumed reading the rest of the book in a year or so, I might have declared that there is no writer like Victor Hugo, who can write with such force and vision, who is such a virtuoso of French versification, such a lord of language, etc, etc. But I didn't. Now you can find me lying on my sofa, a wet cloth over my forehead, moaning: "for the love of God, no more Hugo, please!" ...more
Poems about everything from flowers to the meaning of the universe. Unbelievably moving poetry (book IV is guaranteed to make you weep) side by side wPoems about everything from flowers to the meaning of the universe. Unbelievably moving poetry (book IV is guaranteed to make you weep) side by side with the mundane. Hugo is a great poet in a nation of great poets. He might even be the most innovative and profound of all French poets, without whom there would be no Baudelaire, Mallarmé, Rimbaud, Verlaine, Apollinaire, Aragon, Prévert, Brassens, and NTM. And to think that to this day he is still being poo-pooed by the French intelligentsia, who probably don't even read him, makes it even more enjoyable to explore the vast body of work he left behind (they can keep their Yves Bonnefoy and André du Bouchet.) The common fallacy that real poets die young is belied here by the fact that Hugo wrote one of his poetic masterpieces well into his fifties. And his muse was far from being spent. He still had Les Miserables, L'Homme qui rit, Les Travailleurs de la mer, La fin de Satan, and a 1000-page history of humanity in rhyming couplets to write, among other things....more
José-Maria de Heredia. Je le croisais souvent Jardin du Luxembourg. Son buste oxydé parmi les glaïeuls des mois de juin de ma jeunesse finissante me sJosé-Maria de Heredia. Je le croisais souvent Jardin du Luxembourg. Son buste oxydé parmi les glaïeuls des mois de juin de ma jeunesse finissante me souriait. À cette époque je le rattachais vaguement à la clique parnassienne, le considérant comme une sorte de sous-Lecomte de Lisle, un Baudelaire désincarné et froid, épris d'azur, un obsédé du marbre antique. En fait c'est pas si mal que ça, José-Maria de Heredia.
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