You smell of French revolutions.
There’s a whiff of aristocracy there,
overthrown by a resurgence
of bourgeoisie blending.
But unlike the malodor of most change,
this is savory like a storming
of the Bastilles by mobs of insurgents.
In that sense, it is heady stuff
brimming with fresh decapitations,
the smoky ruins of country chateaux
and the bringing of a new age.
The vapor and its vexations
weave their last bit of ventriloquist magic,
and towards it’s disappearing in history,
I am mesmerized by the felling
of Louis the Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette.
That’s when it hits me,
and the base note
of the perfume is revealed
at the memory of
“cette jeune fille folle”, Marie.
You smell of cake.
Not bread, mind you, but cake.
Author notes
This is me having some fun with an article I read recently about the French Revolution. I've attempted to tie it all to that other great French import which is perfume. Oh and it's all topped off with a sprinkling of wry humor.
A contest entry
- for truly talented poets and those who desire to be better by a gothic romance.
475 points, ended November 8, 2007, 22 entries
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Comments
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this is a pretty good piece. there's a lack of emotion, and a sense of confusion and dividedness (probably due to the fact that you tried to write about several things at once)
try sticking to one thing at a time maybe. when you started off with the "you smell of french revolutions" i was expecting some deep and powerful piece about a woman i'd fall in love with while reading.
the writing itself is very good, i just think a better muse or structure might turn into something really powerful.
thank you for entering
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