January 21, 2014

C'est Le Bow

Don't really matter if I'm getting wet
But I can't let my buddy go soggy
It's just him and I and a French cigarette
When the sea air is crystal or foggy

If the wine house has hired a musician like me
Then it's out on the streets to perform
Under a canvas or under a tree
Till the passing of rudeness and storm

Kids shout as they run past, old women hold ears
The scraping out-bellows the tuts
An instrument yearning orchestral austere
Which hurts like a kick in the guts!
Nay, we don't make a fortune, just clutter and noise
Only pleasing the odd girl or fellow
Romanticist's folly from belly to bow
A man and his best friend the cello



Optimistic Existentialist said...

Wonderful poem to accompany the picture. I'm sure the occasional odd girl or fellow really enjoys the beautiful music that he makes :)

Helen said...

As always, this is delightful!

Kutamun said...

Ah but its all part of the rich tapestry of life ! , cheers mate , this was fun

Sue J said...

Love this. Lots of imagery :)

Michael said...

Hmmm. Making music that isnt necessarily beautiful. I hadnt thought of that.

Creative and well written.

Lyn said...

A faithful friend indeed..so original..I can feel the atmosphere!

Maggie Jean said...

So good!
from 'Thingy'

Anonymous said...

Guid wee poem, hen.....

Other Mary said...

The rhyme and rythm make this a delight to read out loud. And I love the detail of the French cigarette. (And happy birthday Lena!)