deepundergroundpoetry.com
French noir
l’amour fait mal, eh?
I would call her a poem, but she is not.
she is too untamed to be restricted in a precise
form, too coarse & callous for rhyme.
she is no villanelle, nor as glamorous as a sonnet.
she is beautiful, in the way that the word was created
for the female composition. she inhibits no inhibition.
she gives me my only joy & all of my sorrow because
she is….. je ne sais quoi.
when I want her close, to smell her hair, to watch her
as she dances briskly to a Mahler symphony (his sixth,
perhaps), until I can’t contain myself, & I must take her
roughly in my arms, crush the flower of her seduction –
that’s when she’s missing from me.
she’s a wanton coquette who is lured by the firecracker neon
& the cannonade music of the dancehalls. I’ve imagined her
lovers: men with the sweet faces of angels, pretty as a man
should never be. I am the ugly one.
so I remain in the trembling shadows of my hearth-lit parlour.
if I followed her to those raging party lights, I would burn,
I would crumble to ash.
after some hours, I hear the door open timidly. her scent betrays
her: a man’s cigarette smoke, or the odor of his sex on her. I feel
her behind me, but I won’t look at her.
when she touches my shoulder, my anger explodes. I turn & slap
her viciously, but the sting hurts me more. her harrowing eyes gaze
up at me, where she has fallen, but she’s too proud, too proud to cry.
‘why do you stay?’ I tell her. ‘why don’t you leave me?’
‘because I’m a woman,’ she says, as the flames of her passion
ignite both of us. ‘a woman always returns to her heart.’
we poets, we love too hard…
Published 3rd Oct 2015
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3rd Oct 2015 7:44pm
Can't help but agree with that last line John. The passion in poetry can easily backfire. You do have a certain je ne sais quoi except to say it's sheer talent.
3rd Oct 2015 10:58pm
We love too hard. Oh yes, I couldn't agree more. Your talent at story telling never lets us down, with each detail so painstakingly made to look so easy. Another in a long line of poems that are wonderfully written by a master craftsman.
4th Oct 2015 1:35am
powerful imagery and explosive feelings at the end..
masterful inking John..
with love Crim
masterful inking John..
with love Crim
Anonymous
- Edited 25th Sep 2020 3:45am
4th Oct 2015 3:36am
<< post removed >>
4th Oct 2015 4:09am
Your writing never, ever, ceases to leave my jaw hanging. You are brilliant. That is all.
4th Oct 2015 4:40am
4th Oct 2015 5:07am
One cannot love too hard. Who wants lukewarm
when we can blister our hearts with experience?
Over. And, over again, to only die to say we lived.
je ne sais quoi.
when we can blister our hearts with experience?
Over. And, over again, to only die to say we lived.
je ne sais quoi.
Anonymous
4th Oct 2015 6:09am
'we poets, we love too hard...'
I would love to disagree but I won't. . .only because it's the truth. . .this is why, John, I consider you the King of Noir, for lines like that. . .xo, Devlin/Doll;)
I would love to disagree but I won't. . .only because it's the truth. . .this is why, John, I consider you the King of Noir, for lines like that. . .xo, Devlin/Doll;)
4th Oct 2015 7:23am
Holy fuck, John... this one hit home hard for me. You are so in touch with the realities so many try to keep hidden. Exquisite work here.
"I am the ugly one.
so I remain in the trembling shadows of my hearth-lit parlour.
if I followed her to those raging party lights, I would burn,
I would crumble to ash. "
...and shadow becomes one of this nature.
"her harrowing eyes gaze
up at me, where she has fallen, but she’s too proud, too proud to cry. "
and that gaze is mortifying... Yet try as you might to avoid it you always find your way back to it... males too, are drawn by things beyond their control.
"we poets, we love too hard… "
All I have to say to that is, "amen, brother."
Much enjoyed this.
Michael
"I am the ugly one.
so I remain in the trembling shadows of my hearth-lit parlour.
if I followed her to those raging party lights, I would burn,
I would crumble to ash. "
...and shadow becomes one of this nature.
"her harrowing eyes gaze
up at me, where she has fallen, but she’s too proud, too proud to cry. "
and that gaze is mortifying... Yet try as you might to avoid it you always find your way back to it... males too, are drawn by things beyond their control.
"we poets, we love too hard… "
All I have to say to that is, "amen, brother."
Much enjoyed this.
Michael
4th Oct 2015 9:09am
"but the sting hurts me more"
~feel so much heart is hidden in this one.. ;)
"we poets, we love too hard…"
~your last lines always wrap up all, in poetic bang. here? You, SirJ.. are *a smoking bulls'eye!
fall hard, love hard, hurt hard.. yes, Sir!
ongoing poetry sighs evoked for the things we do- to and for- our heart, this reads in raw, poignant finesse.
much respect dear man,
~d
~feel so much heart is hidden in this one.. ;)
"we poets, we love too hard…"
~your last lines always wrap up all, in poetic bang. here? You, SirJ.. are *a smoking bulls'eye!
fall hard, love hard, hurt hard.. yes, Sir!
ongoing poetry sighs evoked for the things we do- to and for- our heart, this reads in raw, poignant finesse.
much respect dear man,
~d
5th Oct 2015 4:15am
Love the intensity of this ink..So picturesque I could Invision the whole thing..Excellence as Always John..enjoyed
5th Oct 2015 4:45pm
word have a habit of getting int the essence of things, but you navigate this brilliantly
5th Oct 2015 5:22pm
"we poets, we love too hard…" - The look in her eyes after you struck her, was pure poetry. Swallowing your lines leaves an salty aftertaste. Much like swallowing tears. Wondrous ink, Mr. Feddeler - Loves, blue angel
6th Oct 2015 7:52pm
6th Oct 2015 9:56pm
Like that Damn rabbit " I'm late, I'm late".
John your style never lacks nor ever bores.
This felt like the girl I could never throw away - " bad habit"
You never fail to transport the reader!!!
John your style never lacks nor ever bores.
This felt like the girl I could never throw away - " bad habit"
You never fail to transport the reader!!!
6th Oct 2015 11:25pm
The last sentence was amazing. We find a lot of poets idolizing their loved ones by making them the central theme of the poem, and in a way, making them the poem itself. But here, you've taken me by surprise. The most romantic thing on earth- is poetry. But you make it clear that the woman goes far beyond poetry. I can imagine the depths of love and passion in you.
tres bien mon ami
tres bien mon ami
7th Oct 2015 3:06am
I love how women are poems to you. And then you go and describe them in that way through your verse or style.
7th Oct 2015 10:06pm
I am always blown away by your writings, you wield your pen like ninja wields his sword - in that analogy the pen is definitely mightier than the sword :-)
excellent stuff :-)
excellent stuff :-)
Anonymous
14th Oct 2015 7:41am
Gorgeous write....intensely poignant, with a stellar ending!
Amazing imagery, I agree: picturesque. Bravo!
Thanks for sharing -- barrie
Amazing imagery, I agree: picturesque. Bravo!
Thanks for sharing -- barrie
23rd Oct 2015 4:25am
This is beautifully written. I love how you tell a story with this piece. Awesome writing!! Continue on!!!
8th Jul 2016 5:40am
