Whorl and loop

Posted bywordsandcoffee1Posted inPoetry, W3 PromptsTags:, , , , , 
cartwheeling through lemon sky and alabaster clouds,
greeting heaven with swooping arms then floating, weightless, down,
down to denim cityscape,
to corner café and warm embrace, into air perfumed with baked bread and cigarettes, honking horns and worldly accents

This week’s Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt comes from Melissa Lemay, who asks us to use one of two paintings by Marc Chagall to inspire our writing:

  • Choose one of the two paintings and construct a poem of any form, using the artwork as inspiration and incorporating the colors shown.

I selected “The Big Wheel”, pictured above. I traveled to the City of Lights in 2009, back at a time in my life when I already happened to be overseas and I was young and carefree enough to think traveling around European hostels out of one small backpack with no sense of direction would be fun. (I mean, it totally and completely was.) I tried to envision what it might have felt like to float over and through Paris when creating the poem, the sights and smells especially.

Like every city, you can’t capture its essence in one trip, but I do have both beautiful and humorous memories of Paris. One silly story I have about Paris involves the Eiffel Tower: After climbing back down as the tower was about to close for the night, I realized that I’d lost track of the group of friends I was traveling with, leading to my sad attempt to ask a French policeman for assistance. I don’t speak much French, but I tried my best and quickly resorted to other languages (“parlez vous anglais? hablas espanol?…hmm polski?” [dang! I was sadly out of languages and I don’t even really speak Polish]). Judging by his body language and head shaking, I assumed he didn’t speak English, thought I was crazy (fair), or didn’t want to help an annoying American tourist (also fair). Either way, I thanked him and tried to figure out my remaining options. Naturally, we’d made multiple out-of-the-way pitstops on our way over here from our hostel, so backtracking the route we’d taken was out of the question; my sketchy phone with an SD card that only worked on certain days was out of juice, I had 5 euros and one useless quid in my pocket, and no map.

It wouldn’t be the first or last time that I was lost in a foreign country, though, so I tried to make the best of it. I mean, it was Paris after all. There are much worse places to be lost, I’m sure. I studied the dark streets of the city around me and was deciding how to backtrack our meandering route to our hostel when my friends appeared as if out of thin air right from under the Eiffel Tower. Almost like magic in a fairly magical place. 💜

29 thoughts on “Whorl and loop”

  1. Those last lines of your poem made me wonder immediately if you had ever been to Paris, Sarah… they were so alive… And, yep, sure enough, you have been there! 😀

    I’d like to go eventually… my wife has been there, but I haven’t…

    Much love,
    David

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  8. Ha, that feeling of getting lost in a foreign land can be a little unnerving, especially when people don’t speak your language. I’ve found it to be much worse when you’re travelling on a shoestring budget and can’t simply opt to take a taxi back. What memories you’ve conjured up for me, Sarah!

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    1. Thanks, Stuart! Yes, a microscopic budget certainly made for some adventures in Europe– somehow we ended up sleeping in an airport (not intentionally) and camping in Rome. Interesting times! I’m glad I brought back some fun memories!

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  9. I can think of nothing better than getting lost in Paris. I LOVE Paris.
    getting lost is the best way of discovering all sorts of unforeseen things!
    Love your poem (although, I cant think of cigarette smoke as a perfume).
    J’adore your poem (and your little story) 💖🌹

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  10. Hi Sarah!

    “cartwheeling through lemon sky ” — I haven’t seen that much large lemon throughout my life, though.
    And I’m absolutely terrified of hanging out in the air in any way (remember the moment when the cartwheel goes down…)

    You know, “you look so happy in these pictures”. And the way you described this particular incident or your journey is enjoyable when I read it from here (sitting inside my hostel room).

    That fear of getting lost… it’s frightening; even if it’s Paris.
    I don’t want to be lost in an unknown place or a foreign country.
    I got this feeling when I first arrived here in this city of Varanasi with my papa (he’s also new here).

    Can I say, I enjoyed reading your poem?
    Yes, I did.

    Thank you for sharing.
    Take care.

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    1. Thanks, Lokesh! Being lost was frightening for a few moments, but it worked out okay in the end. I think, at that time in my life, I was so stubborn and independent that I would have figured out a way to get back to the hostel on my own somehow if it came to it. Take care!

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