Another Love Poem…

 

 

tuileries chairs

Photograph (c) 2010 by Patti Chronert

 

Another Love Poem…

If you’d like to hear me read this poem, please click on the link below. Wait a few seconds for it to load. I hope you enjoy both listening and reading this love poem.

 

 Another Love Poem…

~ To my husband and partner of forty years ~

 

We walked along in the Tuileries
alone among the chestnut trees,

morning sky of crisp pale gold
so many paths we have strolled,

and still we wander, just us two,
my heart never very far from you.

We stop to sit and watch the birds
green park chairs, unspoken words,

plain sparrows chirp, so unadorned
no beauty lost, no beauty mourned.

Simple thoughts are often most true—
no man was ever loved more than you.

 

 

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Heart Stone by Mary Kendall

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The meaning of sanglant…

vive_la_liberte_long_live_freedom_french_13_cm_x_13_cm_square_invitation_card-re2d5c72c48e1454e9b216dea9682b7a2_zk9yz_324

 

A story in the NY Times story last Sunday said, “France is spending nearly 1 millions euros a day on the heightened security, part of a renewed surge in European military spending as governments declare terrorism a permanent risk.”.

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One million euros a day to combat terrorism. What a high price for liberty! The words, “Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité” are known to most of us. The French fought long and hard for democracy, and still, the battle continues. Part of democracy is tolerating dissension, but dissension can come at great risk and price. The French (and other democratic countries) are committed to fighting terrorism at great financial cost. Sadly, this means also at a cost of human lives. Still, there is no other choice…freedom must be protected by all who believe in democratic rule.

 

The following tanka was written as a reflection on the real cost of defeating oppression. It is a brief poem by choice.

 

 

a wash of red

under café tables

in silence

we learn the meaning

of sanglant

 

 

 

lady-liberty

For your reference:

Article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/01/business/international/europe-training-financial-firepower-on-terrorism.html

In Luxembourg Gardens, Paris

Chairs in Luxembourg Gardens, Paris by Mary Kendall

Chairs in Luxembourg Gardens, Paris by Mary Kendall

In Luxembourg Gardens, Paris     

A stairwell of shadows invites us to sit.
Empty chairs bask in the late spring sun,

Waiting for readers who choose to sit,
slipping into the borrowed lives of books.

Waiting for lovers to pull two chairs aside,
stealing time away from the world.

Waiting for an old man with a limping dog,
passing time away from his silent rooms.

Waiting for the widow who longs for the sun,
savoring the warmth like a delicate embrace.

Waiting for the disheveled girl who waits,
sipping a café crème with a guarded look.

Waiting for a businessman to eat his lunch,
savoring silence, no rumble of demands.

Waiting for the grandpère missing his children,
wondering what it is they do continents away.

Waiting for weary tourists who sit and rest,
whispering in languages you don’t speak.

Waiting for a tumble of clouds to sweep the sky
just as this sweet day slips into the waiting night.

Time passes.
People pass.
Memories pass.

Another day will come.