The saga of the Lady of the Lake continues as her thermal waters fizz and bubble...
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake- Part Six
Awake! Dour Dreamer! And draw the curtain of benumbing clouds
Fairies hover by ears to whisper mantras dispelling doubts
Already unheeding magpies cluck rudely tongue-in-beak
And trans-continental flights from Orly pierce through rain clouds
Good hour or two has gone by since Metro Lac broke loose
Gardiens de paix drive into the buckle of her tresses noose
Barnacle geese strut at her feet preening proud feathers sleek
Mullahs wash their feet by fountains gushing djellaba loose
Murmuring Berber prayers from cowed heads rise to the skies
While lyceen innocence dries up on loud tutored lies
Do hotel beds lost in arbours get bought for sleep or trysts
Stompings on her esplanade nose-bridge: she frets and defies
Wake the dreamer of unwholesome dreams and set the hour right!
How long lone and stricken chained beneath the main tight!
“What ails thee beneath thy furrowed frown! O! Prisoner of sin!”
The tent-maker’s son still roams with galaxies drifting plight!
“Lift that gorgeous head just once: let us see those laser flashes
That make this lake look thunder-struck even through sun-glasses!”
Fitful sparrows in hedges and eaves seek not to share her thoughts
Oblivious Mall shoppers let slip lone tears from her gashes.
Bonsoir Ron ! You make me feel a hundred feet tall. Got to dip my head in the lake or else it would "bust". I know you're kidding, so I'll take it with a pinch of cinnamon or maybe caviar. The pic over Part Six shows the broadest view with the Prefecture on the left and the Mairie (Town Hall) way down in the glass tower. There are many angles to this "lady" hidden be-hind her curves and lushes, though. I'll try and shoot from over her luscious reclining back for some other poses. Thanks ever so much. Every good wish.
I'm beginning to love this epic poem about Créteil Lake more and more. I suspected it was in Paris and looked it up to be sure. I found out that it was created from an old quarry and now serves as a wonderful part of that suburb of the city.
The images you paint of early morning activity on the lake are outstanding and quite beautiful to read. I am so surprised that others are not common on your wonderful poetry.
3 WAY MIRROR is about a lost identity as experienced by a twenty-eight-year old who thinks he's Charles Randall, until strange events suggest otherwise.
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The images you paint of early morning activity on the lake are outstanding and quite beautiful to read. I am so surprised that others are not common on your wonderful poetry.
Ron