La Gioconda
She smiles as she begs,
But do not ever
Take that smile wrong.
Some people see her smile as a smerk,
Others as a hidden bliss,
Some thing she had just puffed on a reefer
But they are all wrong,
Her smile is one of hopelessness.
She has sold everything but her body
And that is not for sale
Though it’s been taken from her more than once
Against her will.
Once by an arresting policeman.
“People do not come to Paris” someone said
“Just to see you beg.”
But that someone did not offer help.
She was given a flat once,
But it was so lonely for her
She missed the sun on the Seine
The voices in her head.
There was a child once,
Her sister is bringing it up,
She has a photo of it somewhere upon her,
and for a few francs she will show you it.
Then her smile will warm her face
And remind you
That she is a real person
Not just shite on the street.
The other day a man gave her several francs
Felt sorry for her it seems,
She took it to a shop to buy some food
The shop-keeper kept the money
And would not feed her.
That night she went back
And smashed the shop window,
Two days later she was floating on the river
With her throat cut.
Somewhere under the bridges
She still sits there smiling,
It’s just it’s harder to see her
Now that her body has gone.
—
Marie St. Denis
—————-
Comments (51)
Heart-wrenching. Beautiful wording on such a sad subject. Peace.
hmm. perhaps she should demand more money next time, so she could comission a painting.
Sad story here, ick. Well written of course… just creepy.
It is kind of fun. You type with your thumbs.
Here is a link on the Blackberry http://www.blackberry.com/products/handhelds/index.shtml
okay…. you will have to cut and paste because I dont now how to add links in the comments.
My husband has it for his job. This is what we take on our travels though, such as the trip to Canada. My daughters and I emailed eachother several times per day using this thing!
people just choose not to see….lovely but sad poem…Terry, I am glad you like my poem. It is a true story and the ending reflects where my ancestors settled and when. I will probably leave it in. It means something to me because I took that trip and the pics. But as always I appreciate your comments:)
donna
You, not creative, NEVER. Hi, my friend, I am foolishly giggly today as tho I am imbibing again!! I guess it is the near disaster I had!! I started reading your comment and thought of the song, “The Surrey With the Fringe on Top” only yours was curry! I told you I am foolish today. Be happy, dear Terry.
go ahead use the pic i found it on the website for cute puppies lol, i am sucker for dogs and puppies =)
your poems as always tickle something different then most,the subject matter is not one i would pick but it still carries very well with lines like
“People do not come to Paris” someone said
“Just to see you beg.”
But that someone did not offer help.
{-.-}/
Dear Lord,..I softly felll into this,visuals and all ..and once again am taken on a emotional rollercoaster ride…visuals and all…I got into this on a lot of levels.Love the dualism.blessings ,beckon
I have never thought of myself as a fan of poetry…but I find myself looking forward to what you have posted. It seems you have gained a fan!
How true….it does keep the little shits at bay and the girl next door is truly a little shit!
interesting piece…her death seemed a natural progression…
Damn Terry…that was most sad!
I am thinking sad for it was a woman…..
and I am a woman…so…
I guess you’ve answered Nat King Cole’s musical question:
Mona Lisa Mona Lisa, men have mamed you
You’re so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only ’cause you’re lonely, they have blamed you
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art?
–Sarahs, please let dreams and sleeping dogs lie!
That was wrenching. You write about the victimized with such sympathy and such unforgiveness for those that abuse them. Makes me shiver, this Henri de
Toulouse-Lautrec sort of side of you!
your words are haunting…
but a beautiful tribute
to one
so misunderstood
Okay, moonpiesupafly told me to wear nothing BUT a hat and you tell me, wear nothing at all. I don’t want to catch the death of a cold. I don’t want to get thrown out. I can always strip down later, it’s the actual first meeting I’m concerned about.
lisa
that is the most stunning piece of work I have read in a long time…and somehow there is a deja vu…but I have never been there…or have I ……you are an artist to awaken the soul
A hard reality. The sad part is that many people are getting too used to seeing it every day so they hardly spare a thought on the matter.
I see stories about human suffering all the time on the news from any country i can think of, many from my own (i’ve been in the middle of some of them, even), and i get scared that sometimes i don’t feel a thing about it. Not sad, not happy, just… nothing.
I don’t want to end up desensitized so i try to help any way i can.
I help more animals than people though, i dunno why.
Nice reading you again Terry
that’s awesome i feel honored to inspire a great poet like you to write a poem inspired bu me…wow…thanks
and that last comment was supposed to by from me but the computer was signed in under my crazy brother’s name please spare yourself the panes and do not go to his site…
beautiful and too true, sounds like she had more dignity than those with the expendible resources..
Very touching.
The dog replies: I’ll gnaw on your Goliath ankles until you cry to David to sling you out of your misery if you bring up the subject again.
A poem by Pippin:
You Don’t Know a Bitch
from a Hole in the Wall!
Sharper than a serpent’s toothy
the scalpel that slices male knooky.
Don’t remind me of what’s missing,
what’s left is only good for pissing.
Oh, conquests that will never be,
my pride just a neutered memory.
Sad….haunting…
I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve managed to make me cry in three of your latest poems. Perhaps it helped that I had a few to drink, but nonetheless, I shed tears for the people that you colour so brilliantly. That says miles to me about your wordsmithing.
Thank you
The river will speak for her.The Seine takes everything,happiness and sorrow,joy and desperation and changes all to his own measure.
Would have been a nice story to be song by Edith Piaf or Trenet or Brassens or ….Jacque Brel.
Have a nice day.
Carlo
What a story in the form a poetry.
What dragon was killed?
Sad. No optimism in this one at all.
props
That reminded me in many ways of my sister Catherine. Only Catherine did her own throat cutting. But her smile was incredible, I miss her so much!
Oh dear, you had me sobbing hysterically. Beautiful
the more I think about this poem, the more I like it, I think it’s telling us more than about the fate of this woman who was killed for acting against the injustice done to her.. the hopless, defenseless and unfortunate persons who depend on the kindness or humanity of others, justice or fairness- often have a fate not much better than this.. very well described here- a sad statement on the state of human kindness or compassions… and the lives of the defenseless…
Your words touch something deep inside …………
Thank you for going there, going deep enough to find this, and for being brave enough to share.
This is such a striking poem. Thanks for sharing.
random propz,nice banner.
+marine+
Now that was one heck of a fine poem. What else can I say.
Also Charles Azenour would sing this as a song to rip your heart out. What ever happened to him?? Those were the days…The Hot Club of Paris, no more, no more. Old singers, performers, women over seventy don’t die…they just fade away….AWWW
intiguing, sad. a pathetic story, though I mean it in the best of ways.
Your style reminds me a bit of my favorite poet, W. H. Auden. I love the way your poem today told a story. Thanks for coming by my blog! I was very interested in your comment. It reminds me how we can all be and do greater things in service to others than we ever think we can. Blessings, Claudia
Your style reminds me of W. H. Auden. I love the way your poem today told a story, sad as it was. Thank you for stopping by my blog, and for your comment. What a lovely person your favorite veteran must be! It reminds me how we are all probably braver than we ever grasp until the time comes for us to summon it up and use it! Blessings, Claudia
Didn’t mean to repeat myself! I thought my first attempt hadn’t made it on! Claudia
Thanks for all the comment. The thing Americans have against universal health care is that people are freaked out about the taxation that would be required. Nevermind that countries with universal health care pay less for it per-capita than we do for health insurance. It’s just a shame we haven’t been able to get a system in place. Luckily i have good coverage, thanks to the fact my stepmom has a really wonderful union and she gets good benefits. I’m one of the lucky ones.
I am a bit sad after reading the poem. I feel sorry for the woman and the child.
Thanks for your comments on my site. I agree that first love can be a great experience. For me, though it’s painful when it ended, I learnt and grew.
What a tragic poem. So visual!! When I read things like this, it makes me so very grateful for what I have–and don’t always appreciate. When I come to your site, I’m not sure if I want to read what you wrote–usually so sad–but I DO read, and come away moved by it!! Thanks.
Nothing to say but incredible. Honestly it might be one of my favorite pieces. Right now that is, until you write another.
~V
“Some thing she had just puffed on a reefer”
That cracked me up! Love this poem. It’s sad, but has some bright spots of humor throughout it. Just like life, I suppose. Great!
~Leah
How very tragic~
Wow! Found your site through a random comment on Swiftone’s xanga, and subscribed immediately. Amazing stuff. And the link to the Immortal Bob? Wow again.
not only are you very good,but very fast…I must dare you again someday…beautiful…i will treasur it as I do you Lord,blessings,beckon
Like Emile Zola , a french writter , you say the human misery .
In friendship
Michel
Dear Lord…I posted your poem on my site…Hope you do not mind…I do not do machines well,so have mercy on me…blessings & joy to you today…beckon
LORD P: In answer to your question about the religion of the pig — I have no idea! I only know that he (?) was delicious. I’ll have to have you for BBQ!