My stab at poetry

Thanks to Uncle Mark and Marnie for inspiring me to publish my heartfelt poetry.

I wrote this in France in October 2006. For a bit of background, the past three houses Mr Moi and I have lived in have all been on main roads. Kyiv included.

A Gite in Provence (aka Ode to Traffic)
It doesn’t matter where we go,
the noise of traffic will follow.
It seems to be our destiny.

We found a gite in Loumarin
and soon we found our hearing strained
over the noise of motorbikes.

And panel vans, and trucks and cars,
all zooming to the mountain pass
beyond our peaceful rural gite.

Sunday is the noisiest day:
a weekend on the tourist way.
A playground for eight cylinders.

But as traffic is our destiny
it doesn’t really bother me,
the noise of people moving.

It seems to me they’re having fun,
they’re not threatening anyone.
They’re driving through Provence.


9 thoughts on “My stab at poetry

  1. clap clap clap clap..
    I so can see you in the walk down coffee house at he mike, with bell bottom pants and beads in your hair

    groovy. ha ha ha ha ha.

  2. *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap*

    Right on. Glad you’re throwing your hat into the ring, making this a multi-national poetry war, or perhaps I’ve assumed to much. There is always the chance you’re going to pull a Switzerland and claim neutrality. Nevertheless, I’m glad you’ve shared – I like.

  3. I’m not even going to attempt to top any of the above comments…

    Very nice, Miss Moi! Although, I’m not sure what a “gite” is – I’ll have to look it up.

  4. Dear pamela. Oh wow! if only I was that cool! Thanks, what a compliment.

    Dear olechko. It would make a good song – do you think a rap song? With the sound of traffic in the background?

    Dear karmyn. Bah, this is drivel! I’m sure your poetry would surpass this. Anything I write alway sounds silly when I read it. Perhaps its the same for everyone.

    Dear Chrisb. I haven’t mastered the art, more ‘befouled’ the art with my silly ramblings!

    Dear claudia. Yes, provence was beaut but I still think the Loire Valley won my heart.

    Dear uncle mark. The challenge is on mister. Next poem theme? Our readers are the judges? Who else wants to join in? I am so not a neutrality sort of person. I wanna win.

    Dear susan in va. A gite (probably the wrong spelling) is like a country bed and breakfast, except it has its own kitchen. So you cook your own breakfast….

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