Frank E Gibbard Posted January 12, 2012 Share Posted January 12, 2012 "Are you having your usual err ... short, Monsieur?" Toulouse-Lautrec winced at this slur. Mon dieu! He had need of drink, this could make him weep, Accorded an encore of disrespect from a bar-keep Another verbal épée sideswipe at his stunted body No fault of his, was sous contempt, unwitty, shoddy. "Merde!" he muttered tossing over the few francs due For the one shot he tossed back. "Monsieur, adieu! A so bald statement by a very insignificant bald man, An artist can grow in his stature more than you can." The spirit warmed, he left his rude ami there to ponder This riposte. With absinthe introduced heart feels fonder. That green deadly brew made him higher than his height And laid him sometime low but would aid him on the night. Jour hours away the short ill man's long defiance of "booze" He'd pursue, as pleaded by his maman, mais tousjours lose. (alcoholism brought Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's death at age 37 but he left a treasure of thousands of canvasses worth fortunes) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 19, 2012 Share Posted January 19, 2012 Brings back memories of the atmospheric 1952 Mel Ferrer 'biopic' film Moulin Rouge. Draws one to also contemplate the fate of so many creative people who have produced their best work, via (often self induced) tortured realities. B. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted January 19, 2012 Share Posted January 19, 2012 Alcoholism, is it? You seem to be bearing up, a few good years past 37 ... Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.