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Poems On / About PARIS  7/11/2014 1:50:00 AM
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Best Poems About / On PARIS
 
 
 
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  9.     

Paris

Last month I moved to Paris
.......................................Paris
Last month I moved to.........

Paris, the city of light and joy ////// the city of art and sex
Paris, ....................................
........., the city of light and joy ////// the city of art and sex
 
Hrayr Tchanan

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  10.     

PARIS YOU ARE ALWAYS IN MY HEART

Paris you are always in my heart
And you shine inside my heart
Just like the rainbow
Paris you are a part of my heart
 
Aldo Kraas

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  11.     

Don't say Paris

No one says Paris anymore.
There's no such thing as Paris, no
Café de la Paix, no Titian's Entombment
in the Louvre or Hotel La Sanguin
with amaranth petals on the sheets. Don't

say Paris. When you utter the word
I take off my long red gloves. I prepare
my hands to be stroked. I'm an idiot
that way, a Parisian to the bone. Once,

on some Rue or other, I was not alone.
The city, blue. My black coat opened
and gave birth to my body as I walked.
You dare speak of Paris? You unlatch

the door in the cage, that word comes
blooming out, orange feathers ignite
the room. My room the color of sage

in fog. And now, Paris, breaking
the mirrors, exposing the cobbled
alleyways behind them. Who says
Paris? Now I swirl my nipples

with Le Rouge Baiser. Or did you
mean Paris, Kentucky? Or just Paris
a word tossed off like an exploding peony
dropped from the swaying top of that tall

steel tower? Paris, a bitter word,
a word to be spit into a lace handkerchief
like the pit of some pink-fleshed fruit,
stolen from the garden of the rich, in whose

sweetness a woman like me can drown.
Paris, where I loved and suffered, where
the enemy flag opened and flared, poppy
with a spider inside. Liberation, another

suspicious bit of language, a perfumed
envelope holding no letter. Paris, you say.
I have shut down the Office de Tourisme,
covered the windows with flowering vines,

casting those rooms in purple light.
I have wrapped my lips around that word
until it throbbed like Bouguereau's
La Madone aux Roses.
 
Diane Seuss

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  12.     

Paris in Spring

The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.

I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen,
And down the Champs the gray old arch
Stands cold and still between.
But the walk is flecked with sunlight
Where the great acacias lean,
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And the leaves are growing green.

The sun's gone in, the sparkle's dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time's come again.
 
Sara Teasdale

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Read more: paris poems, spring poems, rain poems, city poems, green poems, sun poems, wind poems, time poems
   
 
 
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Poems On / About PARIS