Blois Slam Poem
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In 1457, aprox. Charles, Duc d'Orleans, held a poetry contest, The challenge was to write a poem beginning with the line 'Je meurs de soif aupres de la fontaine'. One of the contestants was François Villon. Here is my very late entry.
Beside clear waters, I die of thirst.
I slake myself in muddied streams.
I try my best and I do my worst.
My candor’s not quite what it seems.
On sober nights, I walk in dreams;
but when I’m drunk, it’s all so clear.
I yell in anger to hide my fear.
Everyone’s friend, but I’m always alone.
Tell me your troubles and I’ll shed a tear.
Give me your hand and I’ll break your bones.
In luxury I dress in rags.
In squalid hovels I polish my rings.
I’m shy with friends, to strangers I brag.
I’m bright and clever, schooled in all things,
but I always come out on the losing side.
I’ll tell you truths that I ought to hide.
I’ll tell you lies to earn your scorn.
Somber at revels, I mirthfully mourn.
I’ll give you everything I own,
when you’re naked and forlorn
and when you’re fat, I’ll gnaw your bones.
I scar my face for beauty’s sake.
I’m comfortable sleeping on the floor.
A soft bed, y’see, makes my body ache.
I keep on swimming, but I’ve reached the shore.
The city’s cries I will easily ignore
but in dead silence I hear the sound,
of something stirring underground,
some muttering grinding undertones
of my past deceptions come round.
I hear the beast who gnaws my bones.
My Princes, I stole my opening line,
my meter, my matter, this patter of rhyme
from the pen of my master, Francois Villon.
Now I’ll do it again, one more time.
I am the poet who picks his bones.
