RAIN 31st August 2015 draft Foutoux

RAIN 31st August 2015


IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO RAIN TODAY
YESTERDAY TOO HOT
AND NOW THE SKY AS WHITE AS PAPER
LITLLE MORE THAN MIST
RELIEF FROM TOO SHARP SHADOWS
POINTING THE WAY TO WINTER.

AT THE GARDEN THE RAIN HAS
WASHED AWAY THE TOURISTS
THE COCK DRENCHED DRAGGLES
ONE FEATHER IN A PUDDLE.
HIS COCK A DOODLE DOO
RINGS HOLLOW.

COPYRIGHT  FOUTOUX 2015

THE MARKET 22 August 2015 Foutoux copyright 2015. draft

THE MARKET.


THIS GREAT SHADOW HAS NO PRICE
NO MERCHANT, IS NOT FOR SALE.
UNDER THE CHURCH CHEAP TROUSERS
HANDBAGS, SHOES
5 EUROS.

THE CAFE TERRACE IN SUNSHINE
TOURISTS CROWD INTO THIS
SPACE OUTSIDE THE SHADOW
 THROWN FOR A
THOUSAND YEARS  AND GIVING
 REFUGE FROM A BITING SUN.

A WOMAN I KNOW REFUSES TO MEET MY EYE
A SHARP WORD FROM THE WAITRESS
"YOU WANT HOT WATER?"
SHE KNOWS MY CHEAP RUSE
TO MAKE THE COFFEE LAST.

BACK TO THE DARK HOUSE
FRESH FROM THICK AIR.
MY REFUGE.

FOUTOUX.

VEULES LES ROSES 20 August 2015 by Foutoux Draft

VEULES LES ROSES  21 August 2015.



We passed the watercress fields
seeing that Autumn had stiched
leaf by leaf its own landscape.
Dusted trees burnt but this
texture of death was a
Sweet tartan from here.

I asked the oak"when and at what time
did the first leaf change" and
received no repy.

Overnight the landscape,
pursued by Shadows turns, Winter's demons
on a leash.

Tentative we breath in knowing
the sullen dark days of November wait
for us and we rush
unwillingly towards this year's death.

Content, just for now, with this
Hot sun which persuades us
That the light will stay with us
Forever.      copyright foutoux 2015

NO MAGPIES by Foutoux 19 August 2015

NO MAGPIES

I SAW NO MAGPIES TODAY
NO MONKEYS IN THE MONKEY TREE
NO RAIN TOO.  RATHER
LATE SUMMER CLOUD.

I SAW A PRIEST, LISTED TO THE
HOMILY, PRAISED GOD
AND MY CRIMSON ROSES.

MY THOUGHTS, FAR FROM SACRED
SLOWLY SKIPPED TO SIN
AND BACK TO GRACE.

fOUTOUX   draft l9 August 2015

T

THE VISIT by Foutoux. 19 August 2015 draft

THE VISIT

WAS MARY RIDING A DONKEY,

WAS THE SUN SHINING OR
DID THE STARS AND MOON
LIGHT THE ROAD TO
ELISABETH?
WHO RODE WITH HER
OR WALKED BY HER SIDE

unfinished fragment  Foutoux   copyright 2015

CAT WOMAN by Foutoux 17 August 2015 draft

CATWOMAN


A HEART LIKE LEAD
CAT WOMAN HEADS FOR
OFFRANVILLE.  NOTICES THE
SHADOWS CALLING WINTER,
THE HYDRANGEAS FADED,
THE WEARY SILVER BIRTH
RED FINGERED MAPLE TREES.
SHADOWS N A LOW HEDGE.


PAPA CUTS BREAD FOR
30 GERMANS TARTINED BY MEMORIES OF THE
SUMMER 1940, SEASONED WITH
HIS OLD HUNGER.

AN OLIVE BRANCH ON THE LONG TABLE
ANTICIPATION, TIME AND EASE
DO NOT BELONG TO
NORTHERN TRIBES.

THE RADIO CALLS THIS
"MID SUMMER" AS TOURISTS
ENJOY WHAT IS NOT THEIRS,

THE CAT WOMAN DRIVES HOME
A HEART LIKE LEAD.

THE PATRICIA. 15 August 2015 by Foutoux DRAFT

THE PATRICIA

THE PATRICIA IS A FISHING BOAT MOORED IN THE PORT OF D. ON THE COAST OF NORMANDY.  IT IS A RUST RED AND WHITE STRIPPED SMALL BOAT WITH BLACK TYRES.


I HAVE SEEN YOU EVERY DAY
FOR YEARS, RUST AND WHITE
BLACK TYRED AND GIRDLED LIKE
THE MIDDLE AGED WOMAN THAT
YOU ARE.

SOMETIMES IN OLIVE WATERS
OTHERS IN SILVER SEAS
TODAY AS THE BRIDGE LIFTS
I SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE.

SOMETIMES THE CLOUDS AS
BIG AS GOD MAKE YOU
SEEM SMALLER.


OVER THE LOCK IN DRY DOCK
YOUR SISTERS ARE SKY DRY
FLOATING ABANDONED TO
THE HANDS OF MAN.

THE YELLOW BOAT
(I CALL THE CANARY)
HAS A SHARK BLACK RUDDER.

THE BLUE BOATS,
UNREMARKABLE WAIT FOR
NIGHT TO CAPTAIN THEM INTO
THE NIGHT.

fOUTOUX  DRAFT

THE STORM by Foutoux (draft) 13 August 2015

AFTER THE STORM.  13 August 2015.


WHITE SKIES HOLD NO SUN
BUT THE  PIGEON
 FLIES LIKE AN ANGEL.
BIRD OF PIE, RACE AND LONDON
PERCHED ON NELSON'S HEAD
DRIBBLING DEBRIS OVER ROOFS
THE WORLD OVER.

WHITE SKIES GIVE NO SHADOWS
AND THE STORM A SHORT MEMORY AGO
HAS LEFT AN INVERTED WORLD OF
PUDDLES..

 AT 11.25 A.M. THE
WEAK SUN RETURNS
AND MARKET TRADERS
REPOSSESS THEIR SHADOWS.


COPYRIGHT FOUTOUX  2015

12 August 2015 by Foutoux. Draft

12 August, 2015.   D. Normandie


DID YOU SEE A LAMB TODAY
OR A DAFFODIL
OR THE BLUE BELL
THAT NEVER RINGS?

WHERE IS THE OLD MAN'S BEARD
AND THE CUCKOO?

DID YOU SEE THE SNOW FALL OR
BROKEN ICE?

TODAY THE SKIES ARE WHITE
CLEANING COLOUR FROM
HARBOUR BOATS AND
REFLECTING NOTHING.

10th August 2015. by Foutoux (draft)

10th August, 2015 by Foutoux.


SWIM EAT AND BE MERRY
BECAUSE THE HORSECHESTNUT IS
BROWN.

YOU THINK IT IS SUMMER BUT
LOOK AT THE CONKERS, THE APPLES
THE BLACKBERRIES
THEY WILL TELL YOU OTHERWISE.

LOOK, LITTLE BY LITTLE THE EARTH
IS STAINED IN RED
OPEN YOUR EYES.

CONSIDER THE FIRST FROST
THE ROSE HIPS, THE SCORCHED EARTH.

IT'S LATE SUMMER.

WHY,  ONLY YESTERDAY
SEA MIST HAD SUCKED THE COLOUR
FROM THE FISHING BOATS

TODAY THE SKY IS GREY AND THE
HARBOUR TURNED TO MIRROR WHICH
REFLECTS A BETTER WORLD.


COPYRIGHT FOUTOUX 2015
.

NO LILACS by Foutoux. draft 8 August 2015

NO LILACS.


HAVE YOU NOTICED
THAT IN AUGUST THERE ARE
NO LILACS?  OR THAT
THE OLD MAN'S BEAR HAS
LEFT THE HEDGES GREEN?
OR THAT THE DAFFODILS DON'T DANCE
AND THAT BLUEBELLS ARE
LONG BURIED/?

DO YOU SEE THAT AUTUMN SHADOWS
HAVE ARRIVED? THAT WINTER'S
FINGERPRINT STAINS THESE SUNNY DAYS?
HEDGES POUR INTO THE ROADS BLOCKING
SUMMER'S SWEET SUNSHINE
AND THIS COOL RELIEF WILL
SHORTLY DROWN US
IN NIGHT.


Foutoux   Copyright 2015.

THE SECRET GARDENER by Foutoux draft 8 August 2015

THE SECRET GARDENER

IAM THE SECRET GARDENER
UNSEEN, NO ONE COMES NEAR
WHEN I CUT THE HEADS FROM
A HUNDRED ROSES.

I HIDE FROM THE GAZE
THAT JUDGES
AND WORK COUNTING MY
PACES TO AND FROM
THE COPPER TAP.
THE HEADLESS I WATER
MORE THAN THE QUEEN OF
ROSES.

AFTER SUCH BOUNTY
I SNAP THE FINEST BUD
AND SNEAK IT HOME.
MY BOOTY MY REWARD.


FOUTOUX   COPYRIGHT 2015

AUTUMN 7th August. Jardin du Colombier 12 a.m. (draft) by Foutoux

AUTUMN 7th August.


AUTUMN RUNS, A MARATHON RUNNER
INVISIBLE HE SCATTERS SHADOWS.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!  WE WANT TO KNOW
NOTHING OF THE FIEND.
HE SCATTERS HIS DARKNESS HITHER AND
THITHER, NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD
FOR OUR THIRST FOR CONSTANT LIGHT.

THERE, THE ROSE BUSH CURIOUSLY AS
ROSEY AS IN JUNE, HAS A SINISTER
SHADOW AT MIDDAY TO IT'S RIGHT.

THERE THE MAPLE LOOKS AS THOUGH
IT'S DIPPED ITS FINGERS IN RED INK,
THERE THE OAK HARBOURS DEAD LEAVES
AS A MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN AND HER
FIRST GREY HAIRS.

EN ROUTE BACK TO TOWN.
AUTUMN'S FINGERPRINTS EVERYWHERE
THE LAMPOSTS  A THIN DARK LINE
THE SEAGULL FLIES HIGH OVER MY HEAD
LEAVING HIS SOUL SEVERAL STEPS IN FRONT OF ME.

YES NOBODY WANTS TO KNOW AUTUMN.
.     foutoux. copyright 7th Augut 2015.

THE LAMB by Foutoux draft 26 August 2015

THE LAMB by Foutoux


The Lamb ate with the Poor Man.
And drank from his cup.

Refreshed He slept on the
Poor Man's chest until

Dawn.

(From 2 Samuels The Bible)

26 August 2015

THE SEAGULL by Foutoux. Draft 6 August 2015

THE SEAGULL

You fly past my window at
a lightning speed
Marked only by a shadow.

Whose soul are you?
Where the seas high last night?

What news do you bring?

Sometimes (I'm sure it's you)
Your cry echoes down my
Chimney.  
What news do you bring?

Invisible soul stay a little.

Foutoux
draft 6 August 2015

SUMMER DAY 5th of August 2015 by Foutoux (draft)

SUMMER DAY 5th of August 2015 by Foutoux (draft)



How many 5th of August's
Have I see?  Sixty
Six O.But today there never was a
5th of August like this.

Clouds had left the blue air
The aeroplane adds a sharp
Diagonal across the feathered sky.


A combined harvester harvested,
the swifts swifted, the cows cowed,
the hollyhocks waved hello.

Low on petrol, the gague touches the
Red Zone while I,
temporarily, live in
The Green Zone.

If I told you it was
Le Seigneur who gave me
this 5th of August, that there never
had been one like it,
You would say this was
Absurd.  But ask
St. Augustus.  He said the same.

No there definitely hasn't been a
5th of August quite like this.


Foutoux.  Draft 5 August 2015

VESPRES, 31 July 015 5.00 p.m.

VESPRES.   31 July 015 5.00 p.m.


To the hidden tree
few birds come.

The fettered rose
My pride is boundless
I watered them.

The other penitents
Few who came


l crimson rose
likeChrist's blood
Suspended 20 feet behind Him.
This too was thanks to me.

The sun eases its way
through the copper beeches' leaves
and spatters our vista
with theatrical skill.


.

ROSES IN CAFE VICTOR HUGO, D. NORMANDIE, 31 JULY 2015

ROSES, VICTOR HUGO cafe


FOUR ROSES, THREE PINK,
ONE WHITE.  A ROSE
DROPS ITS HEAD OVER THE
SIDE OF THE GLASS.
MY EYES SEARCH
 RENEWAL

A CHILD ASKS FOR AN ORANGE JUICE
JOSIE, POCK MARKED WITH AGE, JOSETTE
SMILES
AS I SMILE AT THE ROSE.


.

NO MAGPIES TODAY draft 30 July 2015 by Foutoux

NO MAGPIES TODAY


NO MAGPIES TODAY BUT THE
SULLEN SHADOW OF THE SEAGULL
FLIES PAST MY WINDOW
A GHOST OR SOUL?

NO RAIN TODAY, AIMLESS CLOUDS
SKIRT THROUGH SUMMER SKIES.

WE ANTICIPATE THE GREAT DEPARTURE
OF AUGUST, THE HARVEST, THE ONSET OF
AUTUMN

SOME DAYS ARE INNOCENT  PLAYFUL
UNTROUBLED.  ENOUGH LAUGHTER TO
WARD OFF SOLITUDE.

HOW SOON WILL I REGRET THESE
SUNLIT MORNINGS,
THE HEAVY DARKNESS OF WINTER WHICH CREEPS
 TOWARDS US.?

MAGPIES by Foutoux (draft 28 July 2015)

MAGPIES


AT THE ROUNDABOUT TWO MAGPIES
I WONDERED WHAT THEY HAD STOLEN
FROM WHERE AND FROM WHOM.

THE ROAD TO OFFRANVILLE AN  EASY RIDE,
MY THOUGHTS BEYOND ME NOTICING LITTLE BUT
MY MOOD - AU BEAU FIXE, HAPPY EVEN
IN THIS LATE JULY DAY.

AT THE GARDEN RAIN GIVES WAY TO
WARM SUN AND WE NOTICE
NO WISTERIA, NO PIONIES, NO DAFFODILS
NO COLOUR.-
 GREEN, SILVER BIRCHES
A HUNDRED FEET HIGH SCRAPING
HEAVEN.
HOLLYHOCKS AS HIGH AS HOUSES
LOOK FRAZZLED
BY LAST WEEK'S HEAT.


THEY TALK OF THE NEXT FIVE DAYS
HOT, WELCOMING IDLE TOURISTS
WHO POLLINATE THE GARDENS
LIKE REDUNDANT BEES.

THEY ARE CHASED FROM THE GARDEN
NOT BY AN ANGEL BUT
 UNEASE.

THE CAFE 28 July 2015

THE RUSTIQUE IS A CAFE IN THE MARKET SQUARE OF D. A PORT ON THE COAST OF NORMANDIE FRANCE.  THERE IS A MARKET EVERY TUESDAY.

THE CAFE 28 July 2015 MARKET DAY

IN THE MARKET SQUARE THE WIND BLOWS
THERE ARE NO MAGPIE JUST GULLS.

THE CAFE AWNING FLAPS
IN THE MARKET THE FLOWERS
ARE STIFF AS SOLDIERS IN
PLASTIC WAISTCOATS.
NO ROSES BEND, IRISES ROD STILL.
HERE AND THERE A WILTING
BUSY LIZZIE.

THE WIND, TIRES OF US AND
FLIES TO MY GARDEN WHERE
SCARLET ROSES ARE
WHIPPED INTO CONVERSATION,
THE MONKEY TREE NODS
AT THE BEECHES IDLE CHATTER.
MY OWN ROW OF CRIMSON SOLDIERS
ARE SALUTING THE WIND RIGHT NOW.

HOW MANY PETALS THAT I
SCATTERED YESTERDAY WITH
MY GRIM SCYTHE REMAIN OR
HAVE BEEN BLOW AWAY?

IN THE CAFE THE AWNINGS FLAP
THE COLD AIR RUSHES AND
CHILLS ME.

FOUTOUX

the wind (VERSE 2 DRAFT) BY fOUTOUX

I ARRIVE AT MY LITTLE  SOLDIERS
VALIANT AND CRIMSON
UNCOMPLAINING IN THE RAIN.

I DELIGHT IN THE  SNIP
WHICH RELIEVES YOU OF A
SINGLE FLOWER
AND REJOICE AT THE  INCISIONS
WHEN  BRANCHES FALL.

TURNING, WILLIAM THE CONQUERER'S
CHATEAU  IS IN GREY CLOUD
WHILE I AM STANDING IN MOMENTARY
SUNSHINE.

AND THEN THE RAIN BEGINS AGAIN
CLUTCHING MY SACK FULL OF MY
LITTLE SOLDIER'S HEADS
I RETURN HOME.

FOUTOUX


27 July 2015

THE WIND by Foutoux

THIEBERMONT IS A MONASTERY OF AUGUSTAN NUNS JUST OUTSIDE DIEPPE FROM WHERE YOU CAN SEE THE RUINS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUER'S CASTLE.


THE WIND

A SUDDEN BLAST AS I CLIMB TOWARDS
THIEBERONT
THE MAGPIE FLIES SIDEWAYS AT THE HEDGE.

ONLY A SIGHT DRIZZLE SO
ROSE HAD TOPPING CAN CONTINUE.

BLACK PASTIC BAG, SECATEURS,
FLORAL GLOVES..I
ARRIVE AT MY LITTLE SOLDIERS.    (draft continued next blog).  FOUTOUX.

WIND, THIEBERMONT (draft 2nd verse)

I am now responsible for chaotic
growth, for the weedy, unwatered
rabble presented beneath the
Holy man.

No longer prey to the sigh of
Beauty's Appreciation,
my gardener's eye, Mistress and Master,
Dominatrice.  Can't wait to get
the gardening gloves on.

In the Divine Office I cannot see
My roses from here but
pouring 5 litres of water on each bush.    (see next blog - technical problems)  Draft 25 July 2015
I am the mother who has given milk

WIND Verse 3.

WIND.  Draft verse 3.

Feeling like a mother giving first milk
To first born, I confess
To being a born again gardener.

Draft 25 July 2015  Foutoux
t

WIND, THIEBERMONT 25 July 2025

WIND, MONASTERE DE THIEBERMONT 25 July 2015

Unreasonable ad irritable
Wind, I call you to account.
The copper beech shakes its head
Like a teenage girl its  hands
sway unafraid while the rose looked
frankly, troubled.
A single bird flies behind the
Wooden Christ, who blocks my view
Of  crimson roses.

draft 25 July 2015.  Second verse next blog.

WILLIAM THE CONQUERER PART 2

WILLIAM THE CONQUERER  PART 2

And what has changed since?
Still lie the hills, still flows the river,
Your miserable ruin lies unchanged.
Still flies the swallow, still the sky is blue.
The sea, the wind, summer breezes,
butterflies, roses.
All may have delighted you.

From Thiebermont, I massacre
French roses and you lie long dead.
I am your unconquered English Rose
Fading with each summer
But not yet vanquished.

WILLIAM THE CONQUERER (ruins at Arque La Bataille Normanie)

WILLIAM THE CONQUERER  (verse 2 in next blog)
(Ruins at Arque La Bataille, Normandie)


GHEEHOME LE CONQUERANT
(so pronounced in French)
It is I who am cutting French heads
(True only roses)  while from a distance of
One thousand years and three kilometres
See your Thumb sized Castle ruined.

One thousand years is
15 times my life lived
when Poor Harold was shot
Through the Eye.





And








W

MAGPIE by Foutoux

MAGPIE.

The Monastery, beech saplings planted
Three deep, two rows to my left
Three to my right.  A shade hardly
20 years old.

The Magpie lands in front of me like
A bi-plane.  Is it the same one
Who at Mass lands beyond
the wooden Christ beyond
the tinted windows?

I walk behind the chapel this time
to dead-head a thousand roses
in one hour.
Holding my seccateurs the roses
moult petals but not at my
wedding.

From time to time I lift my head
and see William the Conquerer's
ruined castle - Arque La Bataille.
What is an Englishwoman doing
considering the ruins
 from here the size of his thumb?
Coronation, domination and
atrocities, nothing remains but me
And the thumb sized castle
and my pleasant musings on
this sunny day.

23 July 2013

MANOUCHE THE CAT

MANOUCHE by Foutoux


Manouche, small eyed and white
Cat of a thousand lives
Treading a parquet floor
You remind me of Tsarinsas and
Snow, sledges and rheindeer.

How patient you are
Manouche Manouche.
Your mistress crouches over
You as a lioness over a cub
Administering homeopathic cures.

PISTACHE THE CAT

PISTACHE by Foutoux


Pat a tee Pat a tah
Pistache, great ball of fur
Sidles, tortoiseshelled, towards me.

One-eyed, but staring wisely,
Oozing from both ends
Apartement cinquante
(18th Arrondisement Paris)
Would be a little less
Without you.

20 july 201

MILTON's HEAVEN

MILTON'S HEAVEN by Foutoux


JEWELLED ANACHRONISM, A VISION
OF HEAVEN
SUBLIME,
ANGELS HIDE THEIR FACES
WITH WNGS
AN AMBER RIVER FLOWS THROUGH
PARADISE AND GOD, HIMSELF,
HIDDEN BY CLOUDS
SHOWS ONLY A HEM.
LISTEN TO THE ANGEL'S SONG
"GLORY GLORY GLORY
HOSSANAH IN THE HIGHEST."


FAR BELOW SATAN ROMES
FOR HUMAN PREY

AND I?  FAITH IS ABSURD
SAYS AUGUSTINE
FAITH IN THIS GOD WHO HIDES HIS HEM
WHO KNOWS ME AND LEADS ME
AND LOVES ME.


19 July 2015

GLASSHOUSE 1915

GLASSHOUSE 1915


"People in glass houses
Shouldn't throw stones"
There were many who
threw stones at you
venerable glasshouse
where the hot smell of summer
Entombs the tomatoes
grown by an
Invisible gardener.


From the valley
a century past you
vibrated to trucks
carrying the young dead
towards their never-ending bed.

Fortunately the Romans had
straightened out these
Norman roads, perhaps
anticipating the need for
The axis from Amiens to
Eternity.

Foutoux.

MEMORY

MEMORY by Foutoux

Yesterday breaths
Another breath,
A green, a blue that I no longer see.
Today has memories that
I don't remember
I am free but have
to free myself.
A shadow this morning,
Seagulls passing, a novel
lucid and distracted
I read.

LILIES

I follow you as

a Child towards

the Bouquet Champetre and

Sigh my "Thankyous"

Profuse...too profuse.

Cutting the lily which

Stains It is mid

Summer.

We have survived

La Grande Chaleur

and breath the after

Rain air

Grateful that the

Heat has left us.

We walk again

Amid a thousand

dead lilies

Cooked by the sun

Which waits and

fades us all

Day by Day, one by one.

Foutoux.  July 2015

the lilac tree