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.


.