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

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9 comments:

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!)