Tag Archives: music

1 October 2017

Middle-crossed symphony
agéd watcher, unmusic
undanced though
the talk abounds.

Absent smiling face, even if
he were here
it wouldn’t be grateful fate.

We danced to music this once;
he danced, and my followed eyes,
feet down below shackled to
the mind.

We never danced again,
nor he and me and then alone just me.
In front of mirrors closeted my feet
socked create minimal beat. Song, music
unlike this, repeat and arms flair, doing
justice to my two lame feet.

She in my preferred place.
No musician am I, thus redundant, replaced.
She stares not at my chosen lover’s face
and I wonder why she’s taken my place.

Her fingers do move, but then so do this hand’s
five. Pen is my fiddle, but the bitch
still took my place.

Advertisements

Watching Violin and Viola Play

He touched her left shoulder with
his right arm. And I’m not sure of where
I stand versus where I stood.
Some things advance +
others lag the same old
different speed.

Some things never will change
Some things I never will understand.
The speed of the day ages
the week and unsure
will garner me a grey man.

Violinist + viola
flirt with music close.
Nothing I’ll never know. I write
with ink + mutterers I’ll sing.
Nothing like a musician’s promise
that keeps these vocal poets
away.

He bought me
a drink. He bought her
none at all.

Some things advance +
others lag the same old
different seed.

The violin + viola
swap strings. I’ll call that
euphemism + leave the
reader to think.

I’ll drink his bought drink
for me + wonder how

Some things never will change
some things I never will understand.
The speed of the day ages the
week + this unsure will
garner me away from
the person present will I be.

The violinist was supposed to leave
a time ago. The viola causes him to stay +
together they’ll play
until this bar closes +
forces them away.

But continue I’ll sit and gently
sip his bought drink.
Wondering how old will I be
how grey my hair’ll grow
before I lose this unsure
ground and the lag speeds will
become no more.

29 September. Band Plays.

Four musicians sit
at a table.
Two violinists
A banjo player
+ my ol’ gee-tar player.
My fingers smell of cigarettes.
My breath it hints of booze.

The sins + shames of my father are free
for me to choose.

My player he talks of writers.
He plays in open chords + sings
heartbroken songs.

Here. A corner am I. My eyes on ink
+ musician prize.

The crowd around me talks of brew,
ears all blinded of my chosen music’d few.
What is a musician when they do not play?
A person holding a tool of leisure, grace + taste.

Harmonied song the two men play. A voice not
listened but definitely heard by all roomed.
The violin, she sings but not heard like my
eyes’ divine.

Eyes of vision. Eyes of sight. How I wish
to hold you tonight.

Three musicians sit at a table. My musician
he stands + looks around. What he thinks.

What I know. The Eternal Difference
Away he goes out through the front door.
Dissolved in smoke + song of
London’s All.

Four musicians at a table.
A rogue man to have joined.
Accordion, squeezing in
+ out in rhythmed,
musician’s time.

My Eyes Divine
still outside.
In a Corner
Here I still am.
Inked fingers
with still haunted
demon’s drink breath.

To ask to be the
cigarette my Divine
lips touch is too
much – even for
a Shakespearian Hamlet
as I.
Instead contented
I will only hope to
forever be by his side.

To my Left he’s now
appeared. By definition is
he to my side.

Cruel Fate. You knew
what I meant. Instead
of 3 feet divided did I
wish to feel his hurried
breath.

Up + down +
Up again.

Five musicians sit.

And gazing alone am I.
Divided by a Diagonal line
am I to my Eyes Divine.
What he wonders +
What I mind.
Difference divided behind
Different-coloured Eyes.

Five musicians now
sit + play.
No words are spoken
but oh what minds might say.

Unmouthed Wishes

Have I wished you good night tonight?
Because I wish I had the words beside your name.

Thoughts hidden by time and concoction,
the melody too soon put on to tell the song
that plays.

To say your name, to think aloud, behind your back
afraid to show face just yet,
the song too soon to tell.

The needle will end, the notes
shall die down to the fibres of the floor,
and yet still I wish it to continue –
though I know what will face us
when the music crashes down.

I wish tonight beside your name.
Whispered in thought, body and mind.
But still the words stall from mind to more –
stuck in line, unwilled to move.

30 October

Thinking thoughts rage on
paced with lurid lightning
strikes thundering roars.

Mine mind, the gull
the girl who sits tattered and
torn from winds and more.

Escape, but where?
Where shelter holds ground, but
to see past the rain and earth-
bound clouds is vision
without care.