This poem was originally written and published last year to honour Miss Jean Seberg. Now, to celebrate the 74th anniversary of the birth of this beautiful yet tragic figure from film history, I present it to you again.
An angel of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées
A killer, a maid, a reluctant gun mollHer hair shorn for God and King and Jean-Luc
A delicate finger, gliding across once quivering lips
A creature of ravishing innocence, fair complextion
Gravitas in soulful, mourning eyes
Alive with the thrill of concluded death
This blessed child of Hollywood, Preminger's paramour
Turned toward the ancient eyes of Gaul
Blue jeans, milk shakes, thick red steaks
An American girl, gone to the wonders
A panther in a jaguar's body, a little girl lost
Lithe, she would purr with beatific ambiguity
Her look spoke with poetry, not prose
Her eyes open with the state of longing
Her cheeks, her breasts beneath hidden yellow
Heaving to the time of change, a rebirth
Lost in time, she spoke of voices
In the shadows of the bedrooms of kings Hello sadness, her youth lost in a car
Heavenly tresses bound her to Earth
Mad men would condemn her
She could no longer live with her nerves
This angel of La plus belle avenue du monde
The chestnut trees wrap their arms about her
As saintly as her armoured maid of childhood
As born unto a star of despair, broken dreams
The flesh of her body, tender, hot to the touch
The flames of eternal lips, she stares at us
A messenger of the creation, she breathes
her tongue embroiled in the lies of truth
Desire has no meaning, no quarter
Faith in the vessel of behaviour
She would hold light to a candle
Dangle her eyes in frenzied apprehensionHer eyes, her touch, her chin, her toes
A striped dress of betrayal, sacrifice
A dalliance with a star, her director
Her legs rushing down her avenue
New York Herald Tribune
New York Herald Tribune
The voice of God, a sweet sad sigh
She stares into the camera, eyes wet
A look of immeasurable sadness
Gone is the toothy smirk of youth
Even in her own youth, faded dreams
She stares into the camera, lips drawn
A lost angel of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées
2 comments:
This is a beautiful poem that really illustrates the kind of exquisite beauty she eluded. I watched Breathless for the first time this past weekend, and I fell in love with Jean right away. Lovely piece to honor her birthday!
Thank you. Always good to see some Breathless love. You should check out both Saint Joan and Bonjour Tristesse as well.
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