on the piano
and I wondered if such crimson melody bends
every fallen eye
as might a wish roll down the stage
through her hair
and after, the blushing sky,
tickles our ear
as my wounded soldier’s song
crawls beneath your chair;
or would a willow swallow
our repose in play
or the tap-tap-rap-tap drip
a Gershwin city street
-sparks of liquid vibratos-
chanting beneath our feet.
Well, this is just delightful.
The flow, the pace, the alliteration, the subtle rhyme, the…poetry.
the tap-tap-rap-tap drip
a Gershwin city street
-sparks of liquid vibratos-
chanting beneath our feet
One of your very best, TUM.
'sup dudes?
I completely concur with your assessment on this one, rainey.
Good stuff, TUM.
Thanks guys. Now, to only avoid that great urge to copy myself.
If you only saw the Belle that inspired this . . . I can’t even imagine the stuff I’ll write if we date. It’s interesting, but the more I work out of life, disregarding poetic technique, the more lyrical the form becomes.
Oh, yeah, screw poetic technique. Just go on your nerve, TUM.
“If someone’s chasing you down the street with a knife you just run, you don’t turn around and shout, ‘Give it up! I was a track star for Mineola Prep.’” --Frank O’Hara