It is National Poetry Day in the UK. Here is my contribution. Click on the image if you want to see the details.
Bruegel comes to town
Before I realise how time flies I’ve been poring over Bruegel
for more than an hour I pick up my shopping list
twenty minutes later sees me in the high street
peasant faces everywhere I look The Big Issue Seller
is a strolling player but has the use of both her legs and sight
Cheese bread and earthy vegetables are on my list
I can barely make out the scrawl A merchant
drops a sack of something on the floor The girl at the till
leers and makes a crack The tomatoes are Dutch no English
apples anywhere I search I glimpse a proverb over there
something about a man without money is a corpse coins chink
in the till On my way out I pass a crazy woman
clad in iron armour wielding a sword striding into the shop
As it is national poetry day in the UK here is a poem of mine. Oops! Poetry day isn’t until October, I’m jumping the gun! Anyway my confusion made me post so all’s well and good.
Amadeus Mozart is the quintessential prodigy-genius. Along with Beethoven and JS Bach, he is regarded as among the greatest composers of all time. When he was on his death bed Mozart had the score of his last Requiem at hand. In fact there is a painting showing assembled friends and family round his bed singing the Requiem! He was 35 when he died on 5 Dec 1791; the exact location of his burial is unknown.
Listening to Mozart
I place the CD in its tray press play and settle down
to listen my mind wanders off-key wonders
about greatness and perfect sonata form
how to value time spent here soon
otherworldly strains startle me into the sufficient Now
but soon too soon cat’s paws claw at the window pane
now I fall out of the moment’s grasp wonder if his cat
scratched at windows too. . .
on and on the wandering goes an hour or more
since I passed a dead cat on the street
now I measure deaths of great and small remember
his death-breath whispered drumbeat of his last score