April 22, 2015

Paris by Byron Beynon

I open a book of the seasons,
and find the first page of spring.
I walk to the Gothic 
cathedral of Notre Dame,
with its twin bell towers,
stone gargoyles, and rose windows.
Inside people light candles,
creating shadows on a wall,
groups of daily tourists,
with their necessary cameras,
being shepherded,
as a  priest takes confession.
Later I stood near Pont Neuf
where Oscar Wilde once saw a woman
throw herself into the brown Seine.
I continued the afternoon through
the Jardin des Tuileries, on to the 
octagonal Place de la Concorde
where so many citizens came
to such violent ends.
The three thousand year old
obelisk of Luxor seemed impatient
for take off into the Parisian sky.
The day moved on like the traffic
that lives in all cities.
Buildings, noise, a treasure of sky
under which ordinary couples kiss,
a warm memory, visible.

Byron Beynon lives in Swansea, Wales. His work has appeared in several publications including The Grey Sparrow, London Magazine, Poetry New Zealand, Black Fox Literary Magazine, Poetry Ireland and Chicago Poetry Review. Collections include The Sundial (Flutter Press), Nocturne in Blue (Lapwing Publications),  A Disappearing Landscape (Red Ochre Press) and The Echoing Coastline (Agenda Editions).

No comments:

Post a Comment