Monday, January 12, 2015


The city of love has fear in its air
and winter has bled dire red.
The cafes along banks now murmur in grief
as laughter with hatred is sheared.
Poised on the edges of unforeseen dread
Seine too has halted its waves.

But no more the silence of lambs to the blade!

Let petals of love now sharpen as steel
and blaze into fires that save
and multitude of free thinkers march
to the ruin of barbarian hordes.


Mary said...

A very timely post! Terrorism cannot dampen the spirit of the French for long.

Marcoantonio Arellano (Nene) said...

well said, mi amigo

the pencil has been sharpened