Been away doing bits and pieces for my newspaper – mostly interviewing wounded French army Afghan vets taking part in this week’s World warrior Trials at USMC base Camp Pendleton in California. I’ll be posting some of the stories later on.

This week, my daughter has been studying “Spleen” by Baudelaire for her half term French homework. Oh, I can’t understand a word. Baudelaire sends me to sleep. Was it him who wrote “Les Fleurs du Mal” ????  Makes me think pot Mick Jagger putting withered roses on a grave.

Anyway, I understood enough of Baudelaire to pen the forthcoming lines based on the intro to one of his interminable, intricate and incomprehensible poems – blank verse in the guise of prose. I just think he was out of his head on Absinthe when he was writing.

Here’s the poem  (as far as it goes)


I suppose you’d like to know why I hate you today,

If you can’t understand my pain, I’ll explain it in a way

That you will fully comprehend.


I’ll slowly spell it out,

Mouthing every word

Like some deafening whispered shout.

My fastidious Braille-like discourse,

Redolent of our intercourse.

it might get the message  to penetrate in part

To that cold, impervious place, you call a heart.