THURSDAY THINK TANK
asks us to think of a 'first time'.
THE FIRST TIME
(A parody to the old song 'The Last Time I Saw Paris.')
The first time we saw Paris
Was 1953.
The War was over, but we felt
Still part of history.
Too long the lovely city
Had been ensnared in chains,
And there were signs, at that late date,
Of sadness and remains.
Beside the Seine we walked along,
As lovers long have done,
The birds all sang 'Love's Old Sweet Song',
And we basked in summer sun.
The first time we saw Paris
Would prove to be the last.
In memory, I walk there, still,
Remembering the past.
*
---------------------------------------------------------------
BROWSING
It seems that modern life allows
Little time for us to browse.
Old-time book-shops disappear
And they had such great atmosphere!
The smell of ancient printed pages
Comes to us from down the ages.
And it's absolutely vital
That we find that special title.
"What is this life if, full of care,"
Book-shops just stop being there?
*
8 comments:
Lovely poems, Brenda. I especially liked the last two lines of 'Browsing'. A leisurely browse through a bookshop is a wonderful way to spend some time.
Paris is so nice - great place - great poem.
a lovely poem - I think it is time you returned to the banks of the Seine
Brenda, I really enjoyed this.
I first saw Paris in 1977 when I was 19. Magical, and far beyond the ravages of war-time; but still I felt the effects there as I never could have here in the USA.
I returned in 2008 and it seemed mostly unchanged from '77.
I so love your Paris poem.......especially your last two lines. And the collage is really wonderful. And books? A Kindle will never replace a book for me, or the pleasure of browsing the shelves, seeing so many books I would love to buy............
Hello Brenda,
I especially love your poem with such sweet recollections of Paris.
It was my honeymoon city!
I fear the demise of all bookshops. Online is fine, but you cannot smell the paper!
Eileen
thanks for introducing Paris to us.
inviting imagery.
well done.
I loved both poems, but the Paris poem spoke to that timeless appeal of reflection~ Really beautiful~
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