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Holiday Inspiration

June 21, 2016

Back home after a month touring the south of France! Holidays offer new experiences, tastes
and sights. Here are some raw poems-in-the-making inspired by my fabulous trip.

Mistletoe
© Celia Warren 2016 mistletoe France
If mistletoe grows
where nobody goes,
will it be missing
lovers’ kissing?

© Celia Warren 2016

Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer

© Celia Warren 2016 Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer

Sand, fine as pepper, blown in our eyes,
our hair, our sandals, our nails,
Mediterranean sea as blue as the cloudless sky.
We climbed to the top of the church tower,
then higher, up sloping tiles to the apex,
surveyed red roofs, swallows, shoppers,
and sparkling sea from on high.

© Celia Warren 2016

Weights and Measures

© Celia Warren 2016 Reims building © Celia Warren 2016 TheWeightofOneself_Lyon

Some carry the weight of the world
on their shoulders.
Others run wild, leaving care
to their betters or olders.

Some people carry themselves
and they know their own weight.
Others slide carelessly,
sink or skate.

© Celia Warren 2016

Stored Sunshine

© Celia Warren 2016 Stored Sunshine Langlade

By a sliver of moon, we recycle the sun:
in solar-cell storage it brightens the night.
The cat’s gone to bed, the tortoise and dog;
We drink last year’s sunshine in wine, while the light
glints and distorts as it stencils our table.
Then it’s upstairs to bed while our legs are still able
to carry us there. Will we sleep in this heat?
With a nightcap of armagnac – dreams will be sweet.

© Celia Warren 2016

Heading Home

© Celia Warren 2016 trees like toffee apples France

Along the road, approaching Calais,
Heading home from weeks in France,
Rows of trees like toffee-apples
Offer one last happy dance.

© Celia Warren 2016

… and finally, after I’d danced ‘Sur le pont d’Avignon’, so did my chessmen, after I’d arrived home:

The Chessmen’s Flood

© Celia Warren 2016 Chessmen's Flood

The chessmen’s board is flooded
since it’s rained all day and night.
The rooks provide a wooden bridge
in answer to their plight.

It’s like the bridge in Avignon –
the pawns soon take the chance
to step up high upon the bridge
and have a little dance.

The bishops like the bridge, but still
find usefulness in boats,
while both the black queen and the white queen
clear their royal throats:

Sur le pont d’Avignon,
Pion y danse, pion y danse,
Sur le pont d’Avignon,
Pion y danse tout en rond.*

© Celia Warren 2016

*On the bridge at Avigon, pawns are dancing, pawns are dancing … round and round.

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