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Writings and Witterings


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Smoking Bastille

Alain Bashung, a famous French singer, was such a fan of Gauloises Disque Bleu, it is said he refused to quit even during his chemotherapy. This poem was written for Bastille Day, 14th July—the day that gives the perfect excuse to eat much cheese or smoke yourself silly (if that’s your bag). It’s been updated this year.

Smoking Bastille

Voltaire could neither put up nor shut up,

he famously said, ‘Let us read…let us dance…’

François-Marie Arouet,
imprisoned twice in the Bastille,

his delight at the fall

of the smoking Bastille

would have seen major celebrations,
had he been around for the smoke.

Fast forward to:
Gauloises Disque Bleu,

elegant,
cool,

(show-off) smoking.

Gauloises Disque Bleu.

Cough your way through them
prisoners of nicotine,

echo Voltaire

in the Bastille,

Bruce Willis in Die Hard,
neither put up nor shut up;
Bashung, so hooked that
chemotherapy was enjoyed

smoking Gauloises Disque Bleu.

Polly Stretton © 2021


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A Flower Growing in the Wrong Place

A soothing blue cumulus of cranesbill clusters beneath laurel, the petals grey veined, stretching for sky under a leaf green canopy. Pecking flowers clamber up tangled with a sweet clingy weed, you know the one, with sticky burrs later in the year. There’s an empty bed with last year’s faded, crumbling woodchips; the scent lingers still. Look again, the bed is not so empty—a crumpled weed control membrane lurks partly hidden by compost, held down by terracotta bricks butted up to decking. Silverly shining, a meshed pit shows off yellow ragwort; a flower growing in the wrong place addresses the buzz and clatter of a chainsaw in the park.

Polly Stretton © 2021