"lacoste" poems - Hello Poetry

We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss, Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles. We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple; Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused. Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration. We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures; “Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!” We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher. We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and, Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters, As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry. We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia. We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity, We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance, Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun. Every still is captured by a Lomo, Every scene arrested in sepia motion, Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.

0

Nov 2, 2010

Nov 2, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC

jonathan-lian

In the Indie Moment

We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss, Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles. We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple; Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused. Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration. We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures; “Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!” We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher. We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and, Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters, As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry. We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia. We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity, We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance, Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun. Every still is captured by a Lomo, Every scene arrested in sepia motion, Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.

21

So, up to Liverpool, pretty cool, I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings. When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel, I remember it well, so that's where I'll start, move my feet, it's a quick walk to Bold Street. Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks, regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city, which is pleasing, the only downside is it's ****** freezing! The nights out are decent too, this where Liverpool really pulls through. Matthews Street, can't be beat, or Concert Square, where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars. Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population, going down to Wolstenholme Square, great memories, shame it's no longer there. Capital of Culture, lots to explore, the council wants to restore the city centre, Liverpool One is second to none. New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops, new bars to entertain us, new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers. A modern shopping centre to walk through, have they really called it Everton Two? Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's, funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place. Lads in black Lacoste trackies, in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success, wearing Fila and Ellesse, it was called casual, the style went national. A city of myths legends, some more tongue in cheek but still unique. A sock robber from Kirkby, is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree. What about Carragher's tattoo? He's blue born and bred, is Paul McCartney actually dead? I know it's a clichè, but I must say, it isn't a mere rumour, there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour, wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say. A witty city that's for sure, come and visit, you'll have everything you need and more.

0

May 6, 2020

May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC

ryan-20

Liverpool

So, up to Liverpool, pretty cool, I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings. When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel, I remember it well, so that's where I'll start, move my feet, it's a quick walk to Bold Street. Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks, regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city, which is pleasing, the only downside is it's ****** freezing! The nights out are decent too, this where Liverpool really pulls through. Matthews Street, can't be beat, or Concert Square, where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars. Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population, going down to Wolstenholme Square, great memories, shame it's no longer there. Capital of Culture, lots to explore, the council wants to restore the city centre, Liverpool One is second to none. New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops, new bars to entertain us, new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers. A modern shopping centre to walk through, have they really called it Everton Two? Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's, funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place. Lads in black Lacoste trackies, in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success, wearing Fila and Ellesse, it was called casual, the style went national. A city of myths legends, some more tongue in cheek but still unique. A sock robber from Kirkby, is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree. What about Carragher's tattoo? He's blue born and bred, is Paul McCartney actually dead? I know it's a clichè, but I must say, it isn't a mere rumour, there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour, wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say. A witty city that's for sure, come and visit, you'll have everything you need and more.

47

Ironic how each loafer lacked a penny, though I'm sure they cost him a pretty one. They gleamed meticulously (aside from the scuff inflicted by his Benz) and closely resembled his fathers $2,000 humidor. His father always smelled of cigars and leather, once you got past the 25 year old scotch. He was taught that pewter spoons were childs play and nothing but. Born to a wealthy accountant and flight attendant of New Hampshire, he was not accustomed to the word no. He was a typical, grade A snob, who looked down a nose so bent out of shape, it made Owen Wilson cringe. "That bar exam didn't pass itself." This was the phrase he had coined after years of being told he'd never worked a day in his life and he cowered behind the truth in knowing its the only thing he'd ever accomplished. It may seem pompous at first, but ultimately, the phrase reflected his utter worthlessness. He would never know the meaning behind that very word, nor did he care to attempt to understand it. He made the superiority of his wealth, in comparison to others, evident with every chance presented to him. His selfish attitude was a close second to the first thing you noticed about him; his anchor-print, linen button-up, his gold LeCoultre, and his khaki Lacoste boating shorts. Funny how such a pretty boy, turned out to be the ugliest person you could ever meet.

0

Sep 2, 2013

Sep 2, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC

hannah-mcc

Ugly goes to the bone...

Ironic how each loafer lacked a penny, though I'm sure they cost him a pretty one. They gleamed meticulously (aside from the scuff inflicted by his Benz) and closely resembled his fathers $2,000 humidor. His father always smelled of cigars and leather, once you got past the 25 year old scotch. He was taught that pewter spoons were childs play and nothing but. Born to a wealthy accountant and flight attendant of New Hampshire, he was not accustomed to the word no. He was a typical, grade A snob, who looked down a nose so bent out of shape, it made Owen Wilson cringe. "That bar exam didn't pass itself." This was the phrase he had coined after years of being told he'd never worked a day in his life and he cowered behind the truth in knowing its the only thing he'd ever accomplished. It may seem pompous at first, but ultimately, the phrase reflected his utter worthlessness. He would never know the meaning behind that very word, nor did he care to attempt to understand it. He made the superiority of his wealth, in comparison to others, evident with every chance presented to him. His selfish attitude was a close second to the first thing you noticed about him; his anchor-print, linen button-up, his gold LeCoultre, and his khaki Lacoste boating shorts. Funny how such a pretty boy, turned out to be the ugliest person you could ever meet.

37

amazing, how we're being conned into accepting amazing, how we just sit there and bear it. ******** comes in many colours arseholes fuller than Tescos on a Saturday. Let's play, bribe the sad ******** with anything day, there's no one will say boo and to who? no goose, we ate it if it's fate I could take it, but it's ******** Sell the electorate some shares and we'll protect our positions, ammunition for the masses and they'll all kiss our ***** and what next? tweeting out text on twitter, saving the planet, no litter? no paper trail when it can easily disappear, just a little word in the internet provider's ear. ******** we grin and we wear it on a charity shop buy, ******** we're fed it for breakfast, for dinner, for tea and with tears in my eyes I know they're feeding it to me. In this free democracy, there are chains that hold us back while we believe that we're free. we try on the leg irons and call them, Nike or Lacoste and we don't realise that's what we've lost, the freedom to choose, the freedom to win or to lose. ******** comes in many colours, some call them hues, but it's still ******** however you call it and whatever names that you use.

0

Apr 19, 2015

Apr 19, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Invitation declined

amazing, how we're being conned into accepting amazing, how we just sit there and bear it. ******** comes in many colours arseholes fuller than Tescos on a Saturday. Let's play, bribe the sad ******** with anything day, there's no one will say boo and to who? no goose, we ate it if it's fate I could take it, but it's ******** Sell the electorate some shares and we'll protect our positions, ammunition for the masses and they'll all kiss our ***** and what next? tweeting out text on twitter, saving the planet, no litter? no paper trail when it can easily disappear, just a little word in the internet provider's ear. ******** we grin and we wear it on a charity shop buy, ******** we're fed it for breakfast, for dinner, for tea and with tears in my eyes I know they're feeding it to me. In this free democracy, there are chains that hold us back while we believe that we're free. we try on the leg irons and call them, Nike or Lacoste and we don't realise that's what we've lost, the freedom to choose, the freedom to win or to lose. ******** comes in many colours, some call them hues, but it's still ******** however you call it and whatever names that you use.

21

Didn’t really know why I felt the way I did When I saw her it was like nothing made sense She coordinated chucks and black nail polish with Lacoste polos She belched and smoked but she hated profanity She was only in high school but she was wise beyond her years She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but she was lonely Only thing that made sense was that I liked her Did she reciprocate the same feelings? I already knew the answer And I was content Yet In the back of my mind I knew I had a chance when I first made her laugh I smiled when she told me she was into the same bands as me I fistpumped when I heard she dumped her boyfriend But then I remembered Who I am and who she was and I stopped myself Because she was the wild child And I was the awkward guy We didn’t belong together, we weren’t right for each other I stopped calling her and slowly I left her life Next day I turned on the television and I saw a couple Holding hands Walking down their street Talking about how nice the weather is And I thought to myself Why can’t the weather be good in Seattle? I called Elizabeth.

0

Dec 4, 2016

Dec 4, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC

dannyartreads

Text?

Didn’t really know why I felt the way I did When I saw her it was like nothing made sense She coordinated chucks and black nail polish with Lacoste polos She belched and smoked but she hated profanity She was only in high school but she was wise beyond her years She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but she was lonely Only thing that made sense was that I liked her Did she reciprocate the same feelings? I already knew the answer And I was content Yet In the back of my mind I knew I had a chance when I first made her laugh I smiled when she told me she was into the same bands as me I fistpumped when I heard she dumped her boyfriend But then I remembered Who I am and who she was and I stopped myself Because she was the wild child And I was the awkward guy We didn’t belong together, we weren’t right for each other I stopped calling her and slowly I left her life Next day I turned on the television and I saw a couple Holding hands Walking down their street Talking about how nice the weather is And I thought to myself Why can’t the weather be good in Seattle? I called Elizabeth.

38

An arc of embodiment Decadent perfumed petticoats swirled to order Power ****** from the sweat of the land Stone hewn from its very foundations A spider's web encloses the flowering art Phoenician helmeted raiders Roman taxing invaders Trespassing Gaulish voices Thumbed rosary transcenders The dawn of a walled resistance A Religious pandemic Storming Carcistes Razats rebel Friends denounce their own A castle evokes revolutionary fever Ghosts reverberate running the embattlements Proletarians open the walls Guardians red and blue White clergy take the souls Swords discarded, a tricolore soars Slaves to the chisel Open pits for Vulcan to dip his toes Gothic Cavernous quarried vaults in search of Sade’s demons Stone to shape Provencal style Dereliction a Maquis delight Refuging resistance and the persecuted Destruction and collapse Artisans and folk revive Paint brushes to the fore Transientents page the streets with blood red gold A coat of arms rings its bell Lowly hovels now adored Gaping holes swallow the light Sleepers enrichen the ground Too long a museum Stirring string notes Cherups embrace their calling Voices rouse the deities Banners furl in mistral breaths Spirits hightail Lacoste’s new allies Iced sun rises over Luberons range Warmth caresses the blood of day School children playing, wake the sleepy Warm stews vie with Pistou Hallowed vines are groomed Long walks with herbs to find Boars try and outwit their hunters Dogs smell the truffles afar Ventoux snows cool the view Cyclists roar through in celebration Village a transforming microcosm Artists absorb, evolving a creation Animate habitants living and the vogue A hearty cocooned culture emerging out into longer days luring the coming spring

0

Feb 8, 2021

Feb 8, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC

kevin-wright-2

Lacoste in Winter

An arc of embodiment Decadent perfumed petticoats swirled to order Power ****** from the sweat of the land Stone hewn from its very foundations A spider's web encloses the flowering art Phoenician helmeted raiders Roman taxing invaders Trespassing Gaulish voices Thumbed rosary transcenders The dawn of a walled resistance A Religious pandemic Storming Carcistes Razats rebel Friends denounce their own A castle evokes revolutionary fever Ghosts reverberate running the embattlements Proletarians open the walls Guardians red and blue White clergy take the souls Swords discarded, a tricolore soars Slaves to the chisel Open pits for Vulcan to dip his toes Gothic Cavernous quarried vaults in search of Sade’s demons Stone to shape Provencal style Dereliction a Maquis delight Refuging resistance and the persecuted Destruction and collapse Artisans and folk revive Paint brushes to the fore Transientents page the streets with blood red gold A coat of arms rings its bell Lowly hovels now adored Gaping holes swallow the light Sleepers enrichen the ground Too long a museum Stirring string notes Cherups embrace their calling Voices rouse the deities Banners furl in mistral breaths Spirits hightail Lacoste’s new allies Iced sun rises over Luberons range Warmth caresses the blood of day School children playing, wake the sleepy Warm stews vie with Pistou Hallowed vines are groomed Long walks with herbs to find Boars try and outwit their hunters Dogs smell the truffles afar Ventoux snows cool the view Cyclists roar through in celebration Village a transforming microcosm Artists absorb, evolving a creation Animate habitants living and the vogue A hearty cocooned culture emerging out into longer days luring the coming spring

56

Below the arms of rambunctious pink vigour dappled in leaf like shapes an expeditionary line of soldiers counters a returning line of sated mandibles a olive stone hovers in line 'spem in alium' a warbler throats amongst the cherry’s fruits tickled with the morning’s warmth another builds the morning chorus a caressing swift kiss the tree tops butterflies wandering their brief path ruffling on warm air through poppy in memorium a bee dips in a jubilant flower above a pointy hill clad in medieval remains a source guarded by pillared stones the clock tower strikes its hourly pulse encouraged by a marquis ghost artisans prepare the blank canvas intoxicated by its fibres arts fourth dimension is transfused the clink of glass a gurgle of rosé a shuffle of one nethermost scissor crossing of delicate bangled ankles a delving hand into a pannier a cracking of a baguette skin goats cheese melts on the tongue matched by spicy sausage a tractor awakens engulfed by swarms of gleaming cycles swathed in coutered body suits hidden behind go faster sunglasses quilted vine groves sprout give birth to a Provencal lawn seasoned kegs breath their first gasps quintessential blue fills our eyes calm are the days quick is the inspiration cool are the colours cherish the vitality

0

Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 2:19 PM UTC

kevin-wright-2

Lacoste in spring

Below the arms of rambunctious pink vigour dappled in leaf like shapes an expeditionary line of soldiers counters a returning line of sated mandibles a olive stone hovers in line 'spem in alium' a warbler throats amongst the cherry’s fruits tickled with the morning’s warmth another builds the morning chorus a caressing swift kiss the tree tops butterflies wandering their brief path ruffling on warm air through poppy in memorium a bee dips in a jubilant flower above a pointy hill clad in medieval remains a source guarded by pillared stones the clock tower strikes its hourly pulse encouraged by a marquis ghost artisans prepare the blank canvas intoxicated by its fibres arts fourth dimension is transfused the clink of glass a gurgle of rosé a shuffle of one nethermost scissor crossing of delicate bangled ankles a delving hand into a pannier a cracking of a baguette skin goats cheese melts on the tongue matched by spicy sausage a tractor awakens engulfed by swarms of gleaming cycles swathed in coutered body suits hidden behind go faster sunglasses quilted vine groves sprout give birth to a Provencal lawn seasoned kegs breath their first gasps quintessential blue fills our eyes calm are the days quick is the inspiration cool are the colours cherish the vitality

41

Militia at the gate boarding prisoners for the state. **** model climbing out the pool in a polka dot bikini. Cigars being smoked in the back of the coach, walls being plastered with paint. Theresa being smashed because she a rich proustite. Disgusting scenes on television displaying an exorcism. Lacoste logo on the T-shirt of the guy playing golf. Many casualties after the dinner banquet got shot up. Theresa lost her job now she fussing with moms but Julio about to **** her **** Flamingo girl dancing on a rotating stage, shaking her curvy hips ¢ bouncing her big **** "The cigar factory is impressive enough it only needs an investment too be better." She won't sit with a common ***** an arrangement that didn't happen. Roulette table catching fire the dealer smuggling cash. They just bought some champagne but they didn't buy her ¢ she don't wanna talk to him, he was a long time ago. Flashbacks making her reconsider so she went back to the party. Robert must be a body guard but even closer than that if he stealing kisses from a married woman. Julio just domed a ***** now he scrambling for his freedom. Counterfeit money like monopoly making smiles ¢ frowns. Taking a walk on the beach as the sunsets talking life. The most exotic creature he's ever known, quite a danger to his health. She hasn't changed a bit making her recognizable even after separation. She came back for a kiss from the only love of her life. Her husband wants Theresa while the wife wants the body guard. Julio still in college yet he hanging out with gangsters. Rebels being shot for trying to escape being captured. Julio kidnapped the wife ¢ the body guard but the gorillas came out the jungle ¢ stopped him. "We are you. You are us."

0

Oct 31, 2019

Oct 31, 2019 at 7:19 PM UTC

Suavecito

Cuba

Militia at the gate boarding prisoners for the state. **** model climbing out the pool in a polka dot bikini. Cigars being smoked in the back of the coach, walls being plastered with paint. Theresa being smashed because she a rich proustite. Disgusting scenes on television displaying an exorcism. Lacoste logo on the T-shirt of the guy playing golf. Many casualties after the dinner banquet got shot up. Theresa lost her job now she fussing with moms but Julio about to **** her **** Flamingo girl dancing on a rotating stage, shaking her curvy hips ¢ bouncing her big **** "The cigar factory is impressive enough it only needs an investment too be better." She won't sit with a common ***** an arrangement that didn't happen. Roulette table catching fire the dealer smuggling cash. They just bought some champagne but they didn't buy her ¢ she don't wanna talk to him, he was a long time ago. Flashbacks making her reconsider so she went back to the party. Robert must be a body guard but even closer than that if he stealing kisses from a married woman. Julio just domed a ***** now he scrambling for his freedom. Counterfeit money like monopoly making smiles ¢ frowns. Taking a walk on the beach as the sunsets talking life. The most exotic creature he's ever known, quite a danger to his health. She hasn't changed a bit making her recognizable even after separation. She came back for a kiss from the only love of her life. Her husband wants Theresa while the wife wants the body guard. Julio still in college yet he hanging out with gangsters. Rebels being shot for trying to escape being captured. Julio kidnapped the wife ¢ the body guard but the gorillas came out the jungle ¢ stopped him. "We are you. You are us."

26

Reverse colonisation is the price of empire. Ireland, the only non colonizing european state sadly missed out on the Arab Diaspora. It is my dream to see Monsieur Cardin bequeath his entire Lacoste portfolio to the Bedouins. All for one and one for Allah!!

0

Jul 21, 2018

Jul 21, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC

ryan-olearyuu

French Xenophobes.

Reverse colonisation is the price of empire. Ireland, the only non colonizing european state sadly missed out on the Arab Diaspora. It is my dream to see Monsieur Cardin bequeath his entire Lacoste portfolio to the Bedouins. All for one and one for Allah!!

11

*someone mistook my lacoste for axe or old spice i was offended*

0

May 20, 2015

May 20, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC

collin

to say the least

*someone mistook my lacoste for axe or old spice i was offended*

3

En Francais of course, it is a storage place for bread. In rural villages all over La France, Boulanger's are ceasing to exist. The young no longer want to work what they see as inclement hours. Le Coq Sportif has become lazy, so bread is delivered to a Depot de Pain. I lived in Lacoste en Luberon dans la Vaucluse de Provence, sud de France. It was the home of Le Marquis de Sade, who lent his name to the adjective Sadism. I often wondered, when tourists, not familiar with French, thought when they saw "Depot de Pain". Would that be a serendipitous symbiosis, or a coincidental metaphor, for du Pain and Pain (hurt)?

0

Aug 10, 2019

Aug 10, 2019 at 5:31 AM UTC

ryan-olearyuu

Depot de Pain

En Francais of course, it is a storage place for bread. In rural villages all over La France, Boulanger's are ceasing to exist. The young no longer want to work what they see as inclement hours. Le Coq Sportif has become lazy, so bread is delivered to a Depot de Pain. I lived in Lacoste en Luberon dans la Vaucluse de Provence, sud de France. It was the home of Le Marquis de Sade, who lent his name to the adjective Sadism. I often wondered, when tourists, not familiar with French, thought when they saw "Depot de Pain". Would that be a serendipitous symbiosis, or a coincidental metaphor, for du Pain and Pain (hurt)?

16

Winters crushing silence, Lacoste’s new dawn Art all consuming through empathic suave And evocative frontiers Lacoste in love with crafts enlightened beacon Irregular lines devolve from medieval skeletal relics Trompe-l'œil beggars ones belief Windows framed empty The eye drawn to its historical tone A sweeping brush strokes the virginal canvas Golden colours materialise within ones conceptional dream A spatial aura now raked on pastoral hues Sparten skies embodies synonymous revelations Roberts chiselled forms soar out of soft stones erosion Grains becomes a wash with the cream of gold Flowers lay wanton to the stony mural Echoing within each cranial abyss Ambience sings to the wavering hand Sprouting wings on the back of birds in song Luberon’s wide shoulders cradles a fire from Martha's bellows Beguiling the light illuminates each hillside easel Materials cut from the heart of Cécile Mounted on heady heights Engages empowerment in nuptial bonding Transitioning to unearth the wearer Gaby finds his source in prehistory Rumbling tractors stitching together the whispering landscape Everts clay forms upon the Noahs ark prepare for the coming art uprising Compatriote born of the land, immortalised in clay Hérold crystallized forms evoke surreal echoes Playing the open gambit of Le Sade agape Empowering the village through their art Artists of Lacoste forge an oeuvreal village from the jagged walls Artsploitation a road to ones soul Artspronouciation reaching the road Art a levelling climate settles the crowd Amity conjuring future artisan fingers The nesting atelier Fledglings prepare to dip a toe Stretching wings in mind, body and soul Freeing spirits of old

0

Jun 21, 2023

Jun 21, 2023 at 6:36 AM UTC

kevin-wright-2

Lacoste Vauclusian modern art

Winters crushing silence, Lacoste’s new dawn Art all consuming through empathic suave And evocative frontiers Lacoste in love with crafts enlightened beacon Irregular lines devolve from medieval skeletal relics Trompe-l'œil beggars ones belief Windows framed empty The eye drawn to its historical tone A sweeping brush strokes the virginal canvas Golden colours materialise within ones conceptional dream A spatial aura now raked on pastoral hues Sparten skies embodies synonymous revelations Roberts chiselled forms soar out of soft stones erosion Grains becomes a wash with the cream of gold Flowers lay wanton to the stony mural Echoing within each cranial abyss Ambience sings to the wavering hand Sprouting wings on the back of birds in song Luberon’s wide shoulders cradles a fire from Martha's bellows Beguiling the light illuminates each hillside easel Materials cut from the heart of Cécile Mounted on heady heights Engages empowerment in nuptial bonding Transitioning to unearth the wearer Gaby finds his source in prehistory Rumbling tractors stitching together the whispering landscape Everts clay forms upon the Noahs ark prepare for the coming art uprising Compatriote born of the land, immortalised in clay Hérold crystallized forms evoke surreal echoes Playing the open gambit of Le Sade agape Empowering the village through their art Artists of Lacoste forge an oeuvreal village from the jagged walls Artsploitation a road to ones soul Artspronouciation reaching the road Art a levelling climate settles the crowd Amity conjuring future artisan fingers The nesting atelier Fledglings prepare to dip a toe Stretching wings in mind, body and soul Freeing spirits of old

40