Busker

An observation while waiting for a but

 The building white and November harsh  

       Leaves tetchy about their nomad migrations

       Somewhere unseen a saxophones yellow wail 

       I bus stop idle watch and wonder 

 

       A photograph? -there over the road

       From bright flashes searching the brass

       Movements and  sounds of a moment

       An unresolved present in the shadow

  

       The incident light is a mercury

       So quick run through the shadows

       This fickle is not a humour

       It streams as a strident line

 

       I think to the questing saraband

       And the white wall is contrasted  

       And the solid brick is slid

       Then the singing ochre bright smudge….

 

       A little girl gifts some money

       A Saturday game with my daddy

       Runs away and pleads a repeat

       What fun in my red spotted skirt

 

       Tunes lose their journey of intent

       Become empty as decoration and  sighs

       The case remains open over there

       Under the lamppost in Portmill Lane

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

journeys do get sidetracked in life...sooner or later we all catch that bus to our final destination. In the meantime, it is quite interesting to observe at a bus stop...a center seat...
this is a real poet's poem...because that is what we do...we observe life...and we write what we see so that others may visualize. You do that so well.
j.

[Michael Oliver]

Thank you Jacob for your kind review