Islands of the Loire

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Faraway, naked couple

disrupt a crane. It huffs away

as they pursue each other

among terns and cormorants  

on a plump sandbank

as wide as a beach.


River invades each winter,

islanders take

to flat-bottomed boats.

But they have standards.

The restaurant-bar where

“il n’est pas possible”

in the height of summer

just to get a drink.  

“Quel dommage!” we cry forlornly. 

“Idiotes,” the patron mutters,

barely sous his breath.


Indolent islands of the Loire.

Forget Joan of Arc

and the Hundred Years’ war.

Plantaganet Angers

is twinned with Wigan.

And Little Weed is really a sunflower.


◄ Paris 1944, 2004

The crowd ►


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Greg Freeman

Fri 31st Jan 2020 21:01

Cheers, Ray. Angers is a beautiful and historic city, and I found it odd at first to discover that it was twinned with Wigan. But why not? And it may well be that Brexit will in fact give town twinning a shot in the arm. I hope so.

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Fri 31st Jan 2020 14:25

Greg, my brother lives near Tours in the Loire Valley, and I have gleaned more from your poem than I have from him after 26 years. That's poetry for you. I love the tone and mocking humour. It seems to capture that knife edge of entente and cut a few throats at the same time.


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Greg Freeman

Fri 31st Jan 2020 09:56

Thanks for the likes, Becky and Jordyn!

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