Les Pères Lachaise Writing

Haikus.

************

Quoi Où Quand

Jeudi. Le midi.

Cimetière du Père-Lachaise.

La vingtième. Paris. France.

The Season

Early October.

When the leaves begin to fall.

Vibrant, but wilting.

The Textures

Moss. Stone. Broken Glass.

Rose. Daisy. Fern. Empty vase.

Wood. Pine. Feather. Soil.

The Colours of The Textures

Bright green. Muted grey.

Violet-yellow-magenta.

Muted green. Bright grey.

The Sounds

Whispers. Chirps. The wind.

Yes, the silence makes a sound.

Crunch crunch. I walk on.

The First Sign of Human Life

Just one hearse.Flowers in the trunk.

Flowers in the trunk.

Blooms for tomb.

The Second Sign of Human Life Taking a bench rest.

Taking a bench rest.Backpacks. iPhones. Four-fold map.

Backpacks. iPhones. Four-fold map.

They want to see Jim.

The City That Always Sleeps The dirt paths are streets.

The dirt paths are streets.The

The tombstones are skyscrapers.

The citizens are souls.

The Citizens

One million of them.All their stories, families, lives. Just a name on

All their stories, families, lives.

Just a name on rock.

The Paradox

This is not Paris.City within the city. Some call it their home.

City within the city.

Some call it their home.

The Paradox II

To be alive here.

Is to be the minority.

We are outsiders.

The Paradox III

Five others are here.

It still feels like too many.

We are unwelcomed.

How Do They Rest in Peace?

I don’t know if it

Is intrusive to come here.

Disturbing their rest.

How Many Biographies?

Each body a book.

Cimetière Bibliotheque.

Five lifetimes to read.

The Paradox IV

Clean, well-kept, quiet.

What a strange way to present

A million messy lives.

Church

City on a hill.Mystery

Mystery souls passed away.

Closer to heaven.

Leave a reply

Skip to toolbar