Saturday, 8 December 2012

Bus note 31

        Shining Sun before heavy rain later.
A little boy points at dark holly
that scratches waiting air over
the perimeter walls of the tennis club.
        The high rises, the Cricket Towers,
        are freshly painted and almost charming
while over the leafless-tree-filled park
the Sun gets smudged.
        Put a thumb over faded light
        to finish it; be a giant now.
Today I could give up kindness
and smiling and settle down
into that one still crystal heart valve
and be sharp and hard if I wanted to.
        If I wanted to, I would.


  1. Here's where the money is...

    ...and here's where it isn't (this is a photo before the paint job.

  2. Dead sharp. Strong enough to bring down walls and towers. Brought back to mind this brazen oldie.

    (The writer/singer died backstage a year or two ago. One assumes it's that sort of business.)

    The structure of the piece, with that lovely opening quatrain, and the weaving-together of parts by use of the club/smudged/thumb rhyme, fine.

  3. Thank you, TC. I value your attention to the music immensely.

    One can keep hoping. A bit of brazenness from the right quarters is no bad thing.

  4. WB,
    Nicely done. I almost expected a fourth "over" near the end - the poem, to me, rides on the geometric movement of the camera (over the walls, the towers, over the park - with the perspective play of thumb "over" sun, not unlike rock, paper, scissors - then the (continued) swooping down into the narrator at the close...)

    "Settle down" - exquisite.

    Highest regards,

  5. Thanks for popping by, B.R., and for paying such sharp attention.

    I've a bit of a thing for the repetitions.

    It was certainly the looking more than the listening that was the way in with this one. I like being compared with a camera.