"luxembourg" poems
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
A faded photograph
Hangs on the wall
Evoking memories
Of times gone before
Transporting me back
To younger days
Of innocence and dreams
Of simpler ways
Those vintage times
When life was fun
With skies of blue
Endless days in the sun
Carefree years
Of summer wine
Status Quo on the record player
Singing Sweet Caroline
"Every Sha la la la
Every wo wo wo still shines.."
Why can I still remember
All the lines
Of those songs played
Oh, so long ago
Across the waves
Of my radio?
"I think I love you
Isn't that what I'm afraid of?.."
Lyrics never forgotten
45 rpm statements of love
Radio Luxembourg playing
Hidden under the covers
With melodies about life
Betrayal and lovers
"You're the best thing
That ever happened to me..."
Nothing learnt in school recalled
So well as lyrics from '73
Dancing Queen was another
Vinyl classic joining the mix
To enter my subconscious
In 1976
I glance in the mirror
Expecting to see
A reflection of the girl
Who used to be me
Someone carefree
Someone bold
Instead, I see an image
Of a woman growing old
The years have flown
For this troubled soul
Who's lived a life
Which has taken it's toll
The eyes are tired
The hair's turning grey
The heart's battered with scars
The wrinkles here to stay
Then I think of those songs
From the days of my youth
Considered classic gems
Now I'm long in the tooth
They're still being played
Still giving pleasure
Just like the old girl in the mirror
They're vintage treasure
Nicki Tilston.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
When I lived on Venice Beach
my nickname was “Smiley”
because I smiled at everyone
When I lived in Luxembourg
I was not understood
because I smiled at everyone
When I was a child
my mother made a game of smiling
and when she saw someone unhappy
on the street or in their car
she would smile at them
until they finally smiled back
and only rarely did her efforts fail
I have been considered shallow
by those who never knew me
because I smile at everyone
but those people have no clue
how much inner strength
those smiles represent
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
a conscious
stake was
city of
justice where
grand duchy
staved it
from the
dark and
rubbed unions
particularly swank
then treaty
millennia till
Brexit left
their reckoning
with covert
aspects of
haute recovery
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Joanne told me they would be clapped out.
Radio Luxembourg wouldn't play them.
No Glam you see,
frayed collars, Bar room Blues.
But I'm still into Bees make Honey.
Pawned my Zenith Quad-8 for a Seiko LCD Quartz.
Memorised Ashai Pentax's Reason #44.
Still have the hots for Marisa Berenson's knees.
No censure.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
A Moment in Life Twice Lost to Time
The Swiss watch is my paradigm
Residing now ‘neath Tampa Bay
A moment in life twice lost to time
The gift, from a wall of ice to climb
In Luxembourg where I did stay
The Swiss watch becomes my paradigm
Research belaying the banker's crime
Through valleys green, o'er bridges grey
A moment in life twice lost to time
While belching diesels share their grime
And church bells call all souls to pray
This watch, my truest paradigm
In this city from another time
In Europe's heart I found my way
A moment in life twice lost to time
Returning from this land sublime
My walls and battlements fell away
Rodania watch, my paradigm
A moment in life twice lost to time
2 March 2000
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
I go to Greece and go to the Amity south. The European Commission, especially the daughter of Venus, the Armenian women's court and the Armenian women. Eric, born in Kenya and the United States was born
in a red and red horse. Search Engine Engineer: In the city of Arctale,
USA, a missile shield will be used, which will use two dual US soldiers
and American logos each time. United States, Kenya, Near East, Justin
Yu Galilee 4, 200, Cancer Study. Georgia, the United States, Green Nine, Douglas Canton, the United States, Great Britain, Australia, Ireland, and four southern countries. Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canadian Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Venice, Venice, Canada Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada,
Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada, Red and Red Horses.
The names of the competitions concentrate on the central research
center, soldiers and US $ 200 million explosions.
I will go to Greece and head for Amit in the south.
The palace of Europe, especially the son of Venus,
the tower of Islam is the love of Armenian women
and Armenian women in Spain. Born in Kenya
and the United States, Eric was born in red and red horses.
Search engineer research system: legal UUU for US
warrior and generalized rocket rally in Armenia
when using two languages in USGP Luxembourg.
USA, Kenya, the Middle East, Justin UU Galileo 4, 200,
cancer research. George in the United States, Green Noah,
Douglas Canary, United Nations, the UK, the UK,
Australia, Ireland, the four countries in the south.
Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada Canada Canada
Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada Canada
Children of Venus, Armenian Women and Armenian
Spain. Born in Kenya and the US including DSL,
Eric was born in red and raised with red horses.
The name of the competition is the Central Research
Center, soldiers and the US GPU have 200 billion frets.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
Awakened by cannonfire,
unmistakable,
LOUD.
Today is Luxembourg National Day
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Stalks of bronze leaves croon and
the manicured trees burst jade
against the sky, dangling over
tilted dark green benches.
I pretend to read,
trailing over the pages the oily noses of
dark-eyed, wide hipped nannies
willowy limbed women whose
scarves unfurl under artless chignons,
business men with careful mouths,
long, frecking strides.
He broke the fourth wall without warning and
my laugh was sporadic while I crumbled,
under the slightest of foreign touches, there,
above my shoulder blades,
where another hand
once brushed.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
I have been waking to a mouth of feathers,
grinding teeth in my sleep
and dreaming of Luxembourg.
Giants surround me and call me 'friend'.
I can't see the stars
for their mobile phones,
for their fat wallets and career plans.
I have no coastlines to wander;
only old paths I can cross once again.
I have learned to speak in a thousand tongues
and yet still have little to offer.
Let me buy you a drink,
let me adjust awkwardly in your gaze.
I have seen too many wars
pass over my head,
and now I am looking for love once again.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
I carry Aberystwyth
in the threads of my coat,
in the scuffs on my boots;
the sea salt, sand swept
into the fibres.
And now I stand here
in Jardin du Luxembourg,
thinking about the bench
by the well,
I sat on looking out to sea,
watching the starlings dance,
while considering the possibility
of perhaps, one-day, maybe
living in Paris.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
It behooves
us to shape
the organization so we need not wait
until we hear from above the command,
but have the reins
in our own hand,
if we are to prove
ourselves worthy of intense
coming events.
Those who do not move,
do not notice their chains.
They say 'Order reigns
in Berlin!
Our enemy is bigger today,
“a colossus with feet of clay,
crumbling from within.”
Capital is an historical necessity,
[Like the wooden plow and the chariot,]
but, so too, its grave digger, the socialist proletariat.
Atop smoking ruins, between the pools of blood and corpses of the murdered,
the heroes of ‘order’ hasten to entrench their rule anew.
We’ve been drowned, and left behind a fertile residue.
The Rose that grows from “the muck of ages” still smells as sweet,
future victory will bloom from this 'defeat'.
Rulers of Russia and America across the sea,
Germans, Belgians,
Poles and Frenchmen,
“you stupid henchmen!”
Don’t you understand,
“Your order is built on sand.”
The revolution says “I was, I am,
I will be.”
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
In a book of love letters
written centuries ago
I found a line you once wrote to me
and it startled me so badly
that I closed the book
replaced it upon the shelf
and avoided it for months.
It was a letter from a man
to his lady love
separately secluded in pastoral France
and I think of another letter you wrote
while I was in Luxembourg
in which you ended with the words
"Get to Paris at all costs",
and I wonder
if the two might be connected.
You loved my letters
my practiced penmanship
and humorous style
but it was to my sister
that my letters
were most creative.
Her favorite and mine,
a letter where on one page
I wrote every third line
until the page was full;
on another I began writing
on all four edges of the page
and spiraled inward.
Thirteen pages,
each different and unique
as I recalled for her
the mundane details of my days -
And then I got a computer.
And, despite my best intentions
promises made to myself and friends
I stopped writing letters,
replacing them
with infrequent cards
and impersonal printouts.
And even though
the content was much the same
they were devoid of much
of their former style
and personality.
And so it was
that we lost touch
and I was left behind
to seek you elsewhere.
I returned to that book one day
and though the words
of that long ago lover
still rang with your voice
they'd lost some of their sting.
Cori MacNaughton
(prior to) 28 Apr 2005
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
I was born in 93
in a town I don't remember.
A place I never see
on the boarder of Luxembourg,
Bitburg Germany.
I was always running away.
ready to explore, always something to say.
Having no fear at 5, throwing tantrums
when things weren't right.
I've hurt, but I know my hurt doesn't compare
I've struggled, but I know my struggle doesn't amount
I've prayed, but I know my prayers are quiet.
I've looked in the mirror, frustrated with what i see
thinking that through a perfect body I would be free
I've lied to myself, trying to climb to somewhere I've never been
hoping to escape the reality of what was and will be
I've given my heart away
looked to the sky looking for refugee
hoping the sky will give me peace.
I've slept through pain
when I felt the heart break and ache.
I've had troubles breathing when
my emotions take control.
I breathe knowing I can breathe out hate
and breathe in peace.
I lost myself in another person,
when i know we aren't right.
I fight and I fight.
I don't know whats wrong with me
why I fight and he spites me.
I've felt my control slip
and my reason come 2nd.
20 still searching and breathing
still fighting for my dreams.
hoping I will live in harmony
in peace..
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
I thought of Milka
most of the evening
while listening
to the Elvis LP
or watching TV,
or later in bed
next to my younger brother
him asleep,
and I under the covers
with my small
white transistor radio
playing Radio Luxembourg.
I thought about the first time
we had *** in the woods
behind the farm house
where she lived
with her parents
and brothers,
how we lay
on my jacket
in amongst bushes,
birds overhead,
branches with the sun
blinking through at us,
sounds of traffic
going past
on the farm road
now and then,
and us lying there
exhausted after our first effort,
and she said:
Think that's how it's done.
I said nothing
(not wanting to say
yes it is or she would say:
how do you know?)
just lay there
watching her
breathing deep:
suppose it is,
I said eventually.
She smiled:
now I know
when other girls
say about it
and probably don't do it:
anyway that I have,
she said.
The radio was playing
some American woman
singing about breaking a heart
and not going to Heaven
if you do.
My brother stirred;
and I turned off
the radio
and lay in the dark
musing on Milka,
and what she called
our *** game lark.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
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May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 11:37 PM UTC
Au Luxembourg souvent, lorsque dans les allées
Gazouillaient des moineaux les joyeuses volées,
Qu'aux baisers d'un vent doux, sous les abîmes bleus
D'un ciel tiède et riant, les orangers frileux
Hasardaient leurs rameaux parfumés, et qu'en gerbes
Les fleurs pendaient du front des marronniers superbes,
Toute petite fille, elle allait du beau temps
À son aise jouir et folâtrer longtemps,
Longtemps, car elle aimait à l'ombre des feuillages
Fouler le sable d'or, chercher des coquillages,
Admirer du jet d'eau l'arc au reflet changeant
Et le poisson de pourpre, hôte d'une eau d'argent ;
Ou bien encor partir, folle et légère tête,
Et, trompant les regards de sa mère inquiète,
Au risque de brunir un teint frais et vermeil,
Livrer sa joue en fleur aux baisers du soleil !
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