Nous parlons Tous Français

Quemis

When I think of France I cannot help but think of blood.
Both the reds of passion, and of history and mud.
Let us work then back through time and find the import here,
As "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" not all is as appears.

Here on Bastille day we can almost hear the people roar.
Demanding liberation, echos through years in lore.
Today France is famous still for ever booming voice.
A healthy disobedience, her poorest peoples choice.

I cannot find another place that so accurately describes,
Both The struggle of humanity, and light that lives inside.
Wouldn't doubt the souls that passed on the Rhine would rival Styx
All the way back to when Caesar fought Vercingetorix.

What about the trauma of the shelling of Verdun?
The most dense in human history, The speed like rolls of drum.
It's hard to imagine full the weight of pain and fear,
You still cant walk around the place, people die every year.

Passing over the pages I could go on 'bout both world wars -
What about Paris itself? The Vikings at her door?
Sacked and burned and sacked again, on and on ad-naus.
The evil done inside and by France is worth a pause.

That generational weight laments forever more.
But there is another also. Older even than war.
I talk of course of cave paintings found in places like Lascaux.
Les Combarelles; Font de Gaume, the most ancient art we know.

Need I even mention the works and culture since?
What is there to say on arts of which we all have prints?
On philosophies we live by, or books we do adore.
To list them would be Kafkaesque, a never ending chore.

But if you have not read Baudelaire or Baudrillard,
I recommend you crack a book, open your mind, regard.
I always did prefer Camus to Nietzche or Theroux
If you want something relevant, can't beat Michel Foucault.

An endless sea of love and paint and mystery abounds.
France an ancient engine, producing every sound.
It is a microcosm of all there is to be,
From the roots of mighty Alps to fickle Normandy.
Any and all suffering, or guiding light of god,
Her inspiration massive, painted on world facade.

And so when you are presented with parlez vous francais?
Even if the answer’s no; We all do in a way. 

  • Author: Quemis (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 13th, 2022 20:02
  • Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this for a France themed house party I am going to tomorrow. Full of really old people. Hope it isn't too dark for them.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 13
  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
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Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'The evil done inside and by France
    is worth a pause.'
    as-ever - your writing, at its core
    is so innately sincere and humble..
    (I just hope your audience
    is as well read as you
    so they can better appreciate the nuances
    in your poetic wordplay)
    viva la France! lol
    humanity, is grateful
    for the legacy of the Celtic, Gauls
    great, abhorrent or absurd

    • Quemis

      Thank you so much!

      I hope they are as well!

      • Quemis

        And you are right.

        About the Gauls, and the Romans too.



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