I wanted to see
She wanted to be seen
We met halfway
But the ghost of
Past participle struck
The half that remained unfulfilled
Became the point of discussion
A stormy present
Leading to a murky future
Of matters
That do not
Matter any more
we can and we will !
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I like this poem but I hope it isn’t autobiographical.
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Huh, perceptive. Not autobiographical but allegorical.
Arrived back yesterday evening.
Walked a lot in Paris. Six days is not enough. I liked Musee` de Orsay better than Louvre. Not that it’s Louvre’s fault but a short trip does not justify the lines. My feelings about Monalisa was described in my blog post “Monalisa”.
Had ice cream as per your suggestion at Berthillon, I had black currant (delicious) and my wife had litchee and mango scoops. Litchee was wonderful, mango was OK.
As I said before, my taste is more towards things matural. But I was happy to see that those who tried to immortalize their names through monuments by depriving their poor subjects of their basic needs, in death they are contributing to a better living of the progenies of those deprived from the tourism income of the monuments. Irony perhaps.
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That’s one way of looking at it, though the people who live in Paris tend to be the wealthy. The café servers and waiters and hotel staff and cleaners live outside in the suburbs.
I like the Musée d’Orsay too. It’s a much more manageable size and the internal architecture is splendid. I’d better go and read your blog now.
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I did not want to do Louvre in this trip. Leave something for the next trip, one need to have some hope 😊. But what can one do? If you did not see Monalisa, then why go to Paris – another school of thought.
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I honestly don’t think it’s worth the time wasted queuing to get in and then having to suffer the idiots who wouldn’t recognise a work of art if it walked out of its frame and punched them in the face.
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😊😊😊Great minds think alike. I had to suffer an oriental beauty lining up inside the room who was busy continuously taking her selfie and applying her make up. She did not even look at the painting except through her cell phone. The silver lining was that she took so much time that my wife was held back when she reached the front of the que and as a result I was afforded a few minutes more to look at Monalisa till my wife joined me. Unfortunately I did not take a selfie (I am lousy at taking selfie anyway) as I was trying to utilize the time better.
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It’s like cathedrals. Notre Dame was like being in a football stadium. A dozen different tours going round with their guides bawling out in a dozen different languages. Most of the groups would talk amongst themselves hardly any of them looked at anything. I’m not religious, but as far as I can see, what is wonderful in a cathedral is that is was constructed as a monument to God’s greatness, by men who really believed it. It’s awe-inspiring. To walk around anywhere with that kind of history and natter about who said what to who and where Nancy is getting married and who is coming to dinner as soon as you get back home is just crass.
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We saw Notre Dame from outside and can only imagine what we missed. We did walk up to Sacr`e- Coeur. As we reached the top of the stairs the church bell rang, it was 5 pm. So we could not go up to the Dome but the view of Paris from the terrace as evening lights were coming on was fantastic. I think I wore out my wife with too much of walking.😢
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You have to walk though. There’s as much to be seen between the monuments as there is in them 🙂 I hope your wife had good strong shoes!
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“There’s as much to be seen between the monuments as there is in them” – I could not have said it better and agree whole heartedly.
Shoes were good but do not know if they were strong. They hold up for six days of walking, so must be strong. I had no desire to have a first hand experience though😂
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If she didn’t get blisters they must have been good 🙂
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That she did not.
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🙂
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Enjoyed your chat with Jane. You both do a bang up good critique. Now to the poem. I enjoyed it also. It’s takes more than a read through but worth doing more than once. Now to Mona Lisa, her smile became less complex and more real when you walked through. Okay, I’m just guessing at how she felt. 😀
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Thank you Oneta. It was a short but sweet trip. Thoroughly tired.
I think Monalisa may had an intimate relationship with DaVinci and as he was painting, she may be thinking about it and smiling she sent a message to him that she knew all his secrets(and reading this you may be thinking what a dirty mind I must have. Well, to pass your time standing in that line one must give the mind a free rein not to go crazy😜).
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