Monmartre

"Monmartre"

by Brittany Cardinas

There was this woman.

She had short white hair

That curled just below her

Ears and wisped across her forehead.

An ebony beret contrasted her locks.

She cradled three baguettes in her

Left arm. From head to toe, she

Donned all black—her shawl, her

Stockings, her gloves, 

Her laced shoes. The basket

Of tomatoes and various greens

She carried in her right hand

Seemed to weigh down on her

As she trudged up the steps of

Monmartre. She looked up for

A moment, and when I met her

Eyes, I saw a basket weighing

On her spirit too.

A little mid-week poem

"Five Chimneys"

by Brittany Cardinas

A slope of grass

   descends,

    ending abruptly

at the shallow end.

Black rocks

          peek out

      as white foam

                 cascades

                       over--

At times gentle,

At times harsh.

   Above,

the house of

grey stone

and five chimneys

observes the oscillating affair.

So much to say.

Nothing
 to say.

An Ode to Ernest Hemingway

An adventurous, afflicted, pensive man once said, 
"Write hard and clear about what hurts."
Here's to you, Ernest.

"An Ode to Ernest Hemingway"

   by Brittany Cardinas

To write hard and clear about what hurts,

One must write, and one must hurt.

There is certainly no shortage

Of hurt in this world,

So one must never stop writing.

The world should be laden

With so many pages

That we find solace and commiseration

Around every street corner

And riverbank,

Every cobblestone path,

Every mountain pass,

Every rain cloud,

And every particle of dust from

Deserts and attics and lonely corners

Rarely frequented.

So hurt and write

And find comfort.

Such is life.

And let us commence with a poem:

I sometimes write poetry, but not as often as I should, and I'm not half as good as I'd like to be. But we'll start this blog off with a poem I wrote yesterday while wearing my new star-covered pajama pants I got in Scotland last month. A bar of swiss chocolate also played a part in my inspiration.

"Coruscation"

by Brittany Cardinas

I look to the stars in bleak moments.

The night sky is dark, but beautiful.

Perhaps it parallels

This darkened world—

Perhaps it evidences that

This nebulous life can glisten,

If only we stop looking to the

Duplicitous sun for content.

This photo isn't mine, but I thought it applicable.