There is me and then there is me and my thoughts.

We took the Rue Charriére today,
even though it was glorious
I had things on my mind.

We walked the paths that I used to roam,
a flash of red in the distance,
I hope he was there in a parallel universe,
Toby and I have been talking about that lately.

We like the idea that when you pass over
there is another part of you, still existing,
hopefully a better you, the slice of nice.

We walked to Fontaine Mit, you were
a sceptic, yet not really so, I told you how
I took the waters and cured Toby's eyes,
about the lizards that run up through the rock
we talked of Pouquelaye's and I said
you would find a rock in your garden
if you didn't behave and believe.

We walked around the Hougue
the tide was low, the current running
too early this side of the island
for the mackeral shoals.

We argued about the way down to
Vicard Bay, where the sea is always
that incredible tourquoise,
I have a picture (not mine yet)
It shows that tourquoise colour,
it is real but perhaps only to those who believe.

They have removed the Rue Egypte sign
and someone had left dog shit
on the impressive granite entrance
of some nouveau riche owner
It is not nice, shouldn't laugh but I did.

We drove along the Rue Platons
past the pines that sway and creak
their roots digging up the tarmac,
I once walked past there with a twin buggy
on a windy day, god I shifted that
contraption, counting every crack that I heard.

So here I am, pensive again, too many thoughts
of the vagaries of people online who really
don't give much of a shit, and why should they?
Because I don't participate as much these days
I get the cold shoulder but I have insecurities too,
I just don't want a load of strangers knowing that.

Dinner is in the oven, I have made the traditional
meal, my french roots showing, the boys tease me
I am a traditional cook from the french school,
I don't follow recipes, and I had splashes of this
and splashes of that, I mix and chop and paste
herbs and seasons, I make a seasonal dish.

Tomorrow, god willing, I will get up and
tame the tangles, set my world to rights
or perhaps to wrongs, I'll laugh at all the things
that these days are considered 'not quite the thing'
We'll talk about cousin Jim and things
and the vagaries of people, or perhaps
it will just be me, I have a million threads
and they are all spun of tourquoise and gold.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 798 times
Written on 2015-04-06 at 20:29

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this, Elle. I could be wrong, but this poem feels as if it's made up of your exact thoughts as you were thinking them. Whether or not that's the case, it's a very nice piece of stream-of-consciousness writing.
2015-04-08


Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautiful. I also get great comfort in the thought of parallel universes. They may contain fulfilled hopes and dreams that never eventuated here. You cannot go wrong with threads of tourquoise and gold. Thank you for sharing this.
2015-04-07


jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I do believe that you leave behind a "slice of nice" with those you loved, and whom loved you. i learned that thirty-five years ago tomorrow, when my mother died. Her presence was palpable for years afterward.

A wonderful journey, Elle. You always make me nostalgic. Unfortunately you make me nostalgic for YOUR life. Mine, I'm happy to leave in the past. Though, there were plenty of good bits.
2015-04-07



The 'we' in our thoughts is so much more complete than the 'we' we allow others to know. This is such an open and honest write--like a thought. Beautiful!
2015-04-06