
“The Meal,” 1891, by Paul Gauguin
Gauguin’s Stomach Grumbles – Pourquoi Poi?
Mes petits choux, don’t get me wrong–
I absolument do not long
for France or that old life of mine–
where so terrible was the grind–
Vraiment, I love the sun and shade
of this Tahitian island glade
but my old tum, not Polynesian,
simply won’t become amnesian
and insists on crying, ‘Oy evay,
non non non non more poi today.’
My tum’s the problem–it’s not me
it’s having a hard time ici;
it simply won’t accoutumée
to guava without creme brûlée.
I see coquille–it thinks St Jacques
(it doesn’t much like taro snacks).
So please mes enfants m’excusez,
when I say I’ll pass on poi today.
Perhaps un jour, I’ll change my mind;
my tum will hush its spoiled whine.
But til I reach that day so calm–
just pour me more of vin du Palme
And, s’il vous plait, go ahead, enjoy
that whole darn plat of lovely poi.
***************************************”
The above is my offiering for The Mag 117, where Tess Kincaid posts a pictoral prompt. I am also posting it for dVerse Poets Open Link Night.
This week, Tess’s prompt, is the lovely painting by Paul Gauguin, who left his home in Europe, France and Denmark, for French Polynesia. There’s a bit of poetic license here – poi is the Hawaian name for a paste made from Taro. I believe they have the same stuff in Polynesia, but don’t know what they call it.
All the words above in italics are in French except “oy evay!” The point of this note is that “terrible” should be read ‘teRRIbla,’ more or less.
If you are in the mood for more silliness, check out my novel, Nose Dive, escapist fun that costs a whole lot less than a trip to Tahiti. If you are in the mood for something artistic, check out 1 Mississippi (children’s counting book with elephants, illustrated by yours truly).
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