Enjoying his view at a glance,
everything from the stillness of the trees,
to the bristling of leaves along the floor,
the variances in cloudy colours and the haste
with which they move.
The Birdsong called from open beak,
carried by faint whisper of the air,
heard both near to and far from his pane.
Slithers of blue like a snake out of place,
make their way around me.
The sound of adolescent class and youthful springs
are heard abundantly as laughter and converse grow
into festering harmony of contemporary sounds.
Notice how they cease to be idle, but only ever moving and
active, move in this and that way, heading
North, South, East, and West with motive and intent,
the teachers bark heard through the wall.
I pray that you note the observer through the pane,
he watches and glances, not in idle captivation, but in
simple observation. He notices their behaviour, their patterns
and movements, their groups and divisions, common attributes
and uncommon, differences in personality, not by sound. Instead,
he listens to the motions of mute lips, and silent movement,
as if it were a ballet, only music is absent from the show.
So vast is this view from the behind the pane,
artwork is created by manmade structures blended with
nature and her beauty. Pleasant are the "random" meetings of
two, in open space, such happenstance.
When in the course of circumstances changing,
the classes mix and intertwine for few moments,
I notice many, the aversions, and the attractions,
what catches eyes, and what defers them.
But come the final ringing of the bell, he
heads for the door only to return again
the next day and do as he did.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 4:14 AM UTC
Enjoying his view at a glance,
everything from the stillness of the trees,
to the bristling of leaves along the floor,
the variances in cloudy colours and the haste
with which they move.
The Birdsong called from open beak,
carried by faint whisper of the air,
heard both near to and far from his pane.
Slithers of blue like a snake out of place,
make their way around me.
The sound of adolescent class and youthful springs
are heard abundantly as laughter and converse grow
into festering harmony of contemporary sounds.
Notice how they cease to be idle, but only ever moving and
active, move in this and that way, heading
North, South, East, and West with motive and intent,
the teachers bark heard through the wall.
I pray that you note the observer through the pane,
he watches and glances, not in idle captivation, but in
simple observation. He notices their behaviour, their patterns
and movements, their groups and divisions, common attributes
and uncommon, differences in personality, not by sound. Instead,
he listens to the motions of mute lips, and silent movement,
as if it were a ballet, only music is absent from the show.
So vast is this view from the behind the pane,
artwork is created by manmade structures blended with
nature and her beauty. Pleasant are the "random" meetings of
two, in open space, such happenstance.
When in the course of circumstances changing,
the classes mix and intertwine for few moments,
I notice many, the aversions, and the attractions,
what catches eyes, and what defers them.
But come the final ringing of the bell, he
heads for the door only to return again
the next day and do as he did.
This poem is written from the perspective of a man from behind a pane of glass hence the title, Pane.
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