13 March 2016 – Paris and a Poem

I’m still in Paris.

Yesterday rugby happened. Ireland played Italy

And played well for the first time since the world cup.

I watched with Dan, in a Parisian Irish  Bar on the left bank, with his friend Owen from Pimlico – Born hard and late.

Topped it all off with another tartare.

I imagine the food in Scandinavia is going to be fishier – less meat.

I leave Paris tomorrow.



To see a city so rich and elegant

with fragments blown together on the wind.

The melting pot of a once great empire.

Cultural stew of snouts and arse,

prime cuts and the

wholesome spice of home.

With wine.

And bread

broken not in paschal piety

but for fellow man regardless

of color or creed


This post is part of an on-going series. You can find the previous post here and the next post here.


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