On a bright blue canvas angelic feathers blaze,
backlit from a crisp November sun:
Descending like a
dancing aerial trapeze,
a dove rotates its splayed wings;
Painting a fan figure of eight
to its favourite perch,
-----Le Pain Quotidien-----
The aroma of delicious pastries & coffee beans
Permeate the fresh vibrant breeze;
Swim with the sounds of chinking coffee cups,
Global languages & open laughter:
A mesmerising, tantalising, living jazz;
Natural in its free design, perfect for,
Dining "en plein air",
on this Parisian street.
Not just dining though, oh no!
Also for, something, well, short of, "inoubliable". . .
Amelie was speechless:
Pierre was now on his knees;
did he have no shame;
was he crazy, non?
"elle l'aimait tellement" - she loved him so
as he looked up at her
with those, puppy dog eyes.
The other patrons and passing shoppers
smiled at the young man on his knees.
Was he praying?, but of course, they knew. . .
What is he doing? thought Amelie.
Was he. . . surely not?
Her face flushed, as people started to stare:
Her mouth betrayed & twitched a tentative smile. . .
Pierre nervously & somewhat clumsily
opened the tiny, yet elegant, brushed Royal blue box.
Unsure, he precariously offered it to, Amelie.
The ring sparkled a kaleidoscope of colour.
Pierre coughed as a fine bead of stress
Meandered down his mid back...
He awkwardly retrieved his notes and spoke. . .
Amelie, "ma belle femme",
I want to lie with you each morning,
Waiting for your dreams to release you to mine;
I want to baptise daily in the champagne of your eyes
& thank the lord with hands tightly pressed
for sharing his dearest, personal Angel with me. . .
Pierre's "confidence" grew as did his voice.
Amelie, allow our percussion
to become symphonic, symbolic
& everlasting by being,
if you will,
my sunrise to sunset:
Will you marry me, my sweet Amelie?
Time appeared to freeze these
Lovers in a tatilising tableau;
Moment. . .
The bustling pavement
. (Full stop)
The air molecules agitated
as did a pair of, dark feminine eyes.
She stepped from the crowd,
& glanced blankly at the pair.
Her coat gaped, revealing a nightmare,
She lifted her head & arms to the sky,
then eerily screamed, "Allahu Akbar"
A thunderous explosion erupted, creating a murdering maelstrom of billowing smoke.
Thousands of slaughtering steel balls, nails & shrapnel sliced, smashed, & pulverised:
Evil ripped through warm wet flesh & bone, tearing it savagely from their dying bodies; flesh now too damaged to speak, to laugh, to cry, to live another day, to answer questions, any questions ever again. . .
The wailing sounds of sirens, injured & bereft people saturated the tragic scene:
From a perch a single white feather floats
Excellent piece of art you have created here Michael!!
the words have the potential to create a tangible image i never knew.
the scene on the parisian street , like a GIF image keeps replaying again and again in my minds eye- 'of a shy and sensitive lover, proposing to the love of his life mere moments; even before he could receive her consent.....a dramatic pause and the whole scenario changes**** every thing is blown off into smithereens- And echoing in the background is the name of Divinity used as an excuse to shatter an innocent world.
A marvellous piece.
There is so much about this poem that I love. You have captured the essence of a Paris street so well here. The pastries, the coffee...the chatter ooh la la! Magnifique!
I liked how you added a few french words/sayings here and there...it just gave the story some more depth and together with naming the characters I actually felt I was there with them and...held my breath at the proposal!
By adding something that is very current in our society you played a winning card...the story never got an ending, at least not one the reader wished for.
Overall...this had me gripped by the heart...what a storyteller you are my friend...very well done!