The Fremch

French, the People I went to a wedding in Paris that was some time ago when the lily white French in their cotton packed arrogance thought the Arabs they had pressed to live in cheap housing, was a happy lot. The wedding was conducted on a barge that was going down the Seine and up again and on the voyage we could see the Eifel tower in all its garish colours. To work on a wedding barge is well paid only white French waiters, although the kitchen staff, was foreigners I mean those who wash pots and spits in your soup. It was a grand wedding and we were standing in line to be served goose liver which is if you are not too particular liver from an overstuffed bird . The French makes good food or so they tell us, and they punch you if you disagree. But I do feel sorry for the French cherished confidence has taken a knock, “we are not universal loved” we, the French who has colourized the world even the USA president says so and he is an African. They have much to learn the French, perhaps they should read Victor Hugo again, odd the old scribes, they saw their countryman clearly, mocked them and loved them at the same time.

waterways

Waterway When I saw the river it was not new to me I had often seen it my dreams, its brownish water steadily seeking the ocean and unquestionable becoming inconsequent. It was obeying the law of the nature and not asking why it could not run the other way back to white water of innocence. I’m a rusty leaf in this water being dragged downstream trying to hide under the long grass of the embankment trying to learn once more that sex is not love, I nod in deference but I do not understand why coitus should be wrong even if it is the wrong Time, wrong woman in a house of ill repute. I say; let me do my Mistakes again and learn nothing of interest.

humour

Refusal Stood on top my desk rope over a beam postman knocked three times there is hope a letter a publisher has sent me a letter I open it and laughed it is another rejection something about my spelling lack of punctuation and commas the publisher used to be a teacher

haiku

Haiku The rain lake That will disappear in May Is silvery today The rain lake Looks golden today Gone in May The rain lake Has droplets of dreams Never fades in May.