"elgar" poems
The high rise apartments dominate the night sky
Shadows fall, where darkness has already laid claim
People scurry. Passing each other daily, yet strangers
Irreverent dreams hang where clouds once drifted
Above the rooftops, sounds of Elgar emanate in the
Still air. Drifting slowly towards the masses, inviting
Them to stop and listen, and maybe illicit a smile.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 6:01 AM UTC
What choice?
no voice
no seat on the board.
How to applaud something you never said,
ill-bred and dragged through the mire?
I
just mime in the choir and the
Angel gets the credit,
been there and done it
wrote and reread it and
the Angel still gets the credit.
My allowance is due and it's time to renew
the acquaintance with those I once flew with,
if life gives me a second and one more second chance
I might dance in Trafalgar
the tango with Elgar
or
with my arms wrapped around,
she,
who brings sound to my ears.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
When alive and livingsocial
within webbed wide world
analogous to an emotional hell
I never experienced pomp and circumstances,
and quavers with inconsolable tears
graduation theme song
popularized courtesy Sir Edward Elgar,
thus suicidal ideations no longer relevant
yours truly need not quell
he rages against series of unfortunate events
comprising his life and hard time
(one protracted existential crisis) and yell
like a rebel into the infinite abyss of darkness.
Every subsequent high school graduation year
antedated since June
ninety seventy seven where
yours truly stepped to the podium
to secure his diploma
(I barely squeaked by
from one grade to the next)
stricken with anxiety and experienced urge
to sprint mile a minute evoking manic tear
zipping by at light speed
creating spindleshanks to blur as pair
sorry excuse for legs burning ghee
until reaching destination re:
a specific rocking in casbah Kashmir
actually a sought after interview
with popular Emir.
Personal mailer daemons aside
Azrael readily befriended me before I died
and ably, eagerly and willing obliged to guide
these lovely bones of mine
went for out of world joyride
away to subterranean habitat
where heavenly delight magnified
sense and sensibility overarching credo
unconditional kindred acceptance
downplayed prejudice and pride
communion among apostolic auras
and personas spied
greeting halo trusting word of mouth
as adequate signal to be verified
nullifying former dependence
on prescription medication
to thwart becoming zombified.
The following pharmacological medications
taken courtesy to cope with anxiety,
obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks
and generally curbing tendencies to avoid
physiological symptoms such as:
nausea, palmar hyperhidrosis
(unrelenting sweaty palms), and vertigo.
GLYCOPYRROLATE, TAB 2 MG (thrice daily)
CLOMIPRAMINE CAP 50 MG (once nightly)
RISPERIDONE TAB 1MG (once nightly)
FLUOXETINE CAP 20MG (once daily)
PRAZOSIN HCL CAP 1 MG (three pills nightly)
BUSPIRONE TAB 15MG (twice daily)
PRAMIPEXOLE TAB 1MG (once nightly)
CLONAZEPAM TAB 0.5MG (once nightly
AMITIZA 24 MCG
(prescription laxative - as necessary)
May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 8:43 PM UTC
Her last breakfast at home
before entering the convent.
Her mother fussed over
breakfast making sure
everything was just right.
Her father was driving her
to the train station. She
hated emotional goodbyes.
She knew that her mother
would cry. Then she would cry.
She sat and ate the breakfast
her mother had prepared.
Like a condemned person's
last meal before execution.
The radio was on playing Elgar.
No more radio in the convent
nor TV. Two others girls wound
be arriving today besides her.
She was nervous. It was the
end of an era. Up at 5am each
morning for the office of Matins.
No breakfast until 6.15am
She sipped her tea. She drank
it slowly. Her mother busied
herself trying not to think of
her daughter's departure.
Her father ate breakfast in
silence reading the newspaper.
End of an era. Beginning of
a new. Her father's hair was
greying and his suit was blue.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
Lloyd packed
away his viola.
George was sitting
holding his violin.
"What does your mother
make of you playing
in the string quartet?"
George said.
"Mother thinks
I should get a real job,"
Lloyd replied.
"Doesn't she
like music?
I thought you
brought her along
when we played
Beethoven's last
string quartets?"
George said.
"She likes Welsh stuff
and a bit of Elgar,
and when I told her
Beethoven wrote them
when he was deaf,
she said,
it sounded like it,'
Lloyd said.
"So she didn't think
much of it, then?'
George said smiling.
"No, and she said
that woman on that
big violin thing(cello),
had her ******* showing
when she leaned forward,"
Lloyd said.
"Best not tell
Margaret that,"
George said.
Lloyd picked up
his viola case
and he George
left the recital hall.
He was seeing Margaret
that evening
while her husband
was away,
and they
another sort
of tune to play.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
Interval
A release of conversation
Above me
Vivaldi lingers in the blue mushrooms
~
Theatre smell
Music dust in crushed burgundy
Climbing the stairways
To the halftime bars
~
I sip overpriced whiskey
Amid a peck of cheek kisses
Murmur of nothing talk
and the fog of stale Chanel
~
She stands by the window drapes
Isolated by timidity
I engage her
With the price of a smile
~
Elgar easy on the lifting strings
As the ****** casts it spell
Oblivious
To two empty seats.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC