Beyond the Clock Face ………….Musee d’Orsay, Paris



Beyond the clock face is Paris, beyond
the ticking away of the ordinary
moments is a lamp-lit cafe with rain
streaking its windows, poetry
spattering its walls. Outside, the
angels gathering on the banks of the
Seine grin back at the ancient
gargoyles. Meanwhile, here at home, the
bed is unmade, the floor unswept. The
party dresses are quiet in the dark
closet……. But there, just beyond the clock
face is Paris. Her angels are listening,
extending their cold fingers to our
outstretched mittened hands……


Diane Hanna

22 responses »

  1. This is the soul of Paris. Captured so beautifully in these carefully chosen words. Paris is a state of mind, not a place to simply be a tourist. Lovely, lovely, lovely. V.

  2. Oh my. The Tinman is a poet… A delicate , flowing, moving one. Very touched by contrast of home and Paris– melancholy, gray in hue. Outstanding , Tinman. Outstanding. Thus speakeths the mighty purple pen.

  3. Dear Tin Man…..your wonderful writings about Paris touched my heart, especially today. It is a place in which I left a part of my heart but, thankfully, the angels followed me home. I am never far from my city of light for the ancient ephemera collected while there is spread about……….

    You are one with the soul of a poet.


  4. Gosh, Tin Man, where to start? I also keep reading and rereading each word. What a beautiful poem. Yes, it’s haunting. So moody. In our minds, we’re able to travel anywhere and that’s so liberating. I love the clock. We’re living in both the past and present. You are Proust! Both photographs are also very lovely. Ah, they work so well together: the views, the buildings, the smoke, the clouds, the nitty gritty black and white appeal. Dream-like. Big wheels keep turning. I agree with you and Virginia. Paris IS a state of mind. Just change the window frame. No party dress is needed. But sometimes it helps. Wink. Thanks for sharing. Your moving work is going to stay with me for awhile, I can tell! T. (I also love the Musée d’Orsay. I still have a piece of “faux ice” from the café. Mum is the word. It had fallen to the floor. It’s my lucky charm!)

  5. What a wonderful poem and post! Thank you so much, Tin Man.
    Between you and Theadora, soul and body are cared for very well.
    L’art de bien vivre — both of you are exemplars.

  6. I don’t know how I missed this post before. This is beautiful, and I’m assuming from previous comments that you wrote it? Two questions: 1) Can I share this on my blog? 2) Can I make a copy of it to hang in my classroom? ok…three questions… 3) Did you take that picture? You’ll be in Paris soon, smelling the rotisserie chickens and buying a demi-baguette 🙂

  7. While visiting my undergraduate English professor in Pennsylvania and we found this beautiful verse on a plaque in a gift shop. It is written by Diane Hanna. I did not take the photos and found them out in the net. I put Hanna’s name on the post; however, everyone assumed I wrote the piece……and yes, of course you can share it. You MUST also check out Theadora’s blog, she is just down the street from you and I LOVE her………… XXX000 Tin

  8. Pingback: Beyond the Clock Face ………….Musee d’Orsay, Paris | C'est la vie!

  9. Reblogged this on C'est la vie! and commented:
    I want to share this post by my blog-buddy, “The Tinman”. I think the photographs and the text are both so beautiful. I especially love the part about the unmade bed and the unswept floor.

  10. Wow. What a great poem. I admit that I don’t normally have patience for poetry but this one was so beautifully written and really captures a city and mood.

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