The rain falls on Paris,
the City of Lights is awash with despair,
succumbing to nature’s deluge.
There is no refuge from its barrage.
Masses are huddled, side-stepping
puddles and rivulets. Carriages
and cabs trudge through the sludge
of ‘Paree!’ Her beauty is masked,
taken to task by the wrath from the heavens.
Collars extended and caps drawn close.
Monsieurs and mademoiselles hurry
to escape, surrendering to its fury.
All colors are muted to a dingy gray,
on a fairly depressing day.
It is raining in Paris.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

For dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: Drought and Deluge



29 thoughts on “IL PLEUT A PARIS

  1. Glenn Buttkus

    The gray drizzle, the edge of depressive cloudbursts, culverts agog & awash; what you describe is also London, NYC, & my little town of Sumner.

  2. I hate it when the day turns grey with the deluge of rain. The color makes for a depressing city imagery.

    Great prompt Walt and thanks for hosting.

  3. Once upon a noW..
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    foR ReaL..
    neVer drOught
    oF anything wheN
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    becomes a
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  4. So very reminiscent of Paris, Walter. I personally love that rainy grey. To me it’s melancholic rather than depressing, but then, although I am a Leo, I am not a sun worshipper.

  5. a deluge indeed.
    A depressing day in Paris? Never! 🙂 An espresso and croissant, please.
    Beautiful description here — and I love the inclusion of monsieur and mademoiselle — sets me right there!

  6. Beautiful descriptions and brings to mind all the wonderful photographs of Bresson. It also reminds us that into our lives rain must fall at sometime. My own town gets like this especially in the winter with the rain and everything dreary. Thank you for this prompt!

  7. Candy Cain

    “The rain falls on Paris,
    the City of Lights is awash with despair,
    succumbing to nature’s deluge.”

    You said “suc/cumbing.” 🙂

    I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. But you know this.

    I too am in De-spair. I miss her like crazy. 😦

    I love this poem, Walt. It’s my favorite of yours so far. So many hidden layers.

    “Her beauty is masked” … It’s the only way. Some beauty is too dangerous to reveal. Especially if she’s really secretly sweet too. Dangerous combo. Gotta be mean, and look ugly. To protect YOU as much as herself.

  8. Can grey be colorful? Your poem certainly is 🙂 It’s dry and dusty here so a downpour sounds appealing (if not in Paree).

    (The teacher in me says you can eliminate the apostrophes in plural nouns, line 11)

  9. I love your subtle internal rhyming. It makes the poem flow perfectly (no pun intended).
    I also tend to think of rainy days as depressing, but my son, who was born and raised in western Oregon, loves the rain. He would probably think this rainy day in Paris was wonderful.

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