FERDINAND SQUARE

The downtown art festival

packed up and left two days

ago to make room for a

shadowy bit of the real thing.

I rolled a cigarette and sat

on a concrete bench built

into the side of a planter full of

Azaleas past their prime and

half a dozen empty beer cans.

Dutch Master charcoal and dun

old men cluster under live oaks.

Tweed jacket in a wheelchair,

his friend following to talk

awhile, then gone.

Off to the left a splash

of yellow and bright orange

rattles up the street like a

psychedelic cartoon,

so a tatterdemalion band

of brass, sheepskin, and reeds

can shuffle down and out.

Their notes like confetti

drop the Rock of Ages

in our laps and the wayward

Christian Soldiers pocket bottles,

pull themselves out of the shadows

and into the light

of the Salvation Army bus to

trade their souls for a bed.

In a corner of the empty park,

the tweed jacket stands

and wheels his chair

toward home.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

masterful storytelling her Vol. Paints a picture slice of life at its grimy gritty core, for all it's beauty grace and grift. ending is so sly, smile-inducing, but also just the right touch of WHAT!

bukowski would be proud to have sliced this

ken

[Vol]

Ken,
WHOA! Hey guys, come here! This guy on WritersCave just said one of my poems was Charlie B(ish)! Wow... high praisw indeed... Hes at the top of my list.
Vol

[Arundass TP]

From beginning to end, the square have different emotions. Colorful to emptiness. Lines you wrote seems brilliantly sketched images. Good work 👍

[Vol]

Arundass,
Thank you for taking the time to read and review!
Vol

[Tom]

Not before or even during, but after this people present event, the scene, the atmosphere visually captured as the street gradually empties and settles into the more usual mundane routine, yep, like flotsam floating aimlessly on the seas don't folk leave such a mess behind ??

Inspiring

[Vol]

Tom,
Thanks, man. It is a true story,from about 1968 or so... still vivid as yesterday...
read moreTom,
Thanks, man. It is a true story,from about 1968 or so... still vivid as yesterday...
Vol

[emmajoygreen]

A brilliant finish to a brilliantly visual poem, Vol. Your description - written with a mix of only twenty six letters could deliver a tome! Not a juggle between them, so smoothly laid

The following is only one quote out of many I could have selected!

' Their notes like confetti
drop the Rock Of Ages
in our laps and the wayward
Christian Soldiers pocket bottles,
pull themselves out of the shadows
and into the light
of the Salvation Army bus to
trade their souls for a bed.'

Superb

[Vol]

Emma, Thanks!
It is a true story from when I was only about 18 in Pensacola, Florida. The music was an amazing blend of New Orleans jazz arranged and played by homeless men who learned all they knew of music while in high school. There was a lot of magic happening there in those days... I can still feel it...

[emmajoygreen]

Wa memory to hold close in you.. love the sound of New Orleans jazz, sends the feet tapping You really have found magic moments in your life.. and still do.

[Vol]

magic people, too

[emmajoygreen]

.. seems part of my review escaped my fingers.. 'what a memory to hold close .. ..