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I can tell you the exact day
When you and I joined
And I felt the delight of conception
And the Loire earth breathed
Deeply, sighing, and the Pressigny
Bell chimed as I called out
Your name a thousand times
And the French afternoon
Came in through the windows.

Later, we walked to Montemarte
Where we wrote and I bought
Silk slips that fluttered at my knee,
How later you marveled at my breast.
How ripe I had grown!
Such pink to my cheeks.
This Paris was good for me.
All week, street after street,
I lit candles at every church.
Vowed I would stay. Had we
Remained it would have been.
Iím sure of it. But we took
To the plane as we had to.
Later, by months, the American
Air choked with some dark, fetid
Poison and I felt all the goodness
Cramp and fight its way out.
No mother i. Again I return,
The pale, tired girl, reaped
Of fertility while elsewhere
The death-bell tolls, the Eiffel
Bends at her knee, cries
To see such grief.

Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti

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The following comments are for "conception"
by sadijane

Nice imagery you used!!

( Posted by: amusedlilboy [Member] On: December 28, 2004 )

thanks for that. hard poem to write, so i'm glad that someone likes it...

be well... and thanks for reading and commenting...


( Posted by: sadijane [Member] On: December 28, 2004 )

hi lucie:

thank you for such high praise ~~ i wasn't sure this poem worked at first, but took a chance and went with the emotional and imagistic thing rather than trying to make it too neat and too tight. i wanted it to retain some of the emotional messiness and convey that with various images, like the Eiffel bending at the waist to see such grief, etc. - i'm really glad you liked it. high praise from you indeed!

thanks for reading and commenting....


( Posted by: sadijane [Member] On: December 28, 2004 )

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