Friday, August 22, 2014

 

Haiku Friday: The French



Based on the above song by Vincent Delerm and a lot of other French pop music, it would be safe to assume that the French are vampires.  I mean, listen to the song!  He might as well come right out and say he wants to suck your blood.

But their similarity to vampires is only one of the many fascinating aspects to French culture.  Let's haiku about the French today!  C'mon, it will be fun... and I will allow broad license in addressing the topic.  Here, I will go first:

He wore a cape (yes!)
Drew naked women with chalk
Oh, foreign exchange!

Now it is your turn!  Use the 5/7/5 syllable formula, and have some fun!!!!

Comments:
One of the first to
recognize this colony,
in '78

An army and boats.
Money and alliances.
In their self-interest

they acted for us,
revenging the loss of the
seven year war.
 
They are cheese eating
surrender monkeys. Old joke:
do you know why the

Champs-Elysees is
lined with trees? So the Germans
can march in the shade.
 
Shellfish explosion?
Oui! Let them eat bouillabaisse.
*sigh* Fine, some bread, too.
 
Wine, cheese and warm bread
Musee d'Orsay magnifique
River Seine at night
 
A soft French spring breeze
the evening's light scattered
by her wine glass
 
The sound of the wind
Is different there; sadness?
No… perhaps wistful.
 
Walking for miles, awe...
Musees, cathedrals, cafes
The City of Light

No destination
Lost myself, found myself on
cobbled alleyways

Monet, Vernon, a
bike path travelled to gardens
enchanted with time.

Sancerre and fromage
soft pliant baguette, evoke
scent, taste memories




 
Savoir faire and me,
And a year of college French,
Still fail with women.


 
Citroen 2CV:
Automotive coq au vin,
French redneckmobile.
 
Dad--je me rends.
 
Mon Dieu the skirts are
Steaks! They dance partnered with chic
Slender spuds in berets.

Mademoiselle: is
Is it lipstick or ketchup
You wear? Keez Me quick.

Escargot forego
Their shells,storm The Bastille slow
Motion.Naked Lunch.

The soup Oignon sulks.
Left alone with a baguette
insufficient beurre.

Here after much wine
Everyone becomes pastel
Impressions of self.
 
I fell in love with
His upper lip. The silken
Balustrades of hair

Down which my kiss slid to lips
Beaujolais-flavored. He was
French. Life was picnic.

A breeze could make him
Ecstatic. He nipped my neck
As if wild plums grew there.
 
Listen Osler--Geoff sucks!

Geoff once decided
To pretend to be French, to win
My charms (get my drift?)

Tomato soup red
Beret, striped shirt, tight pants and
Ballet slippers.He

Looked like Pepe Le
Pew in drag. What do I gotta
Do for a real man?

Even his mustache
Was fake.Gopher fur. Sheesh,"O"!!!
I sent him packing.

(To the Left Bank of Lake Kegonsa!)
 
Sallee-- I dreamt you
Were in the Folie Bergeres
Last night wearing a

Boa made of nothing
But sprigs of lavender and
Nothing else. You smelled

Divine like mere's best
Savon. How I longed to kiss
Each inch: Saucy Fille!
 
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