The Music Poem

A recall

We had finished lunch -the routine properly followed

a sun lit southern window

                               opposite the cool other

outside a summers afternoon

                              so lunch so finished

in some corner playing  

                              the radio goes unheard

into the carpets infinity

                              I lay flat peering

flicking the occasional pile

                              nosing it's dry dust

sprawling and waiting and

                               just passing and just

trying to be good

                              conjouring an instructed rest

but the sun falls 

                              upon the carpet maze

but the sun falls

                              sliding over the paintwork

but the sun falls 

                             warming the bare shutters

but the sun falls

                             mindful through the glass

falling on dad's chair 

                             leaning watching aware unaware

the green leatherette cool

                             in a short while

in a proto lotus 

                            in a proto ennui

my childhood simple reverie

                            with my single orbit

sunlit by the room

                            the house paces memory

moves with all stillness

                            the architecture is laid

to now known familiar

                            where I am here

made from it's time

                            on the outside lane

shaped the  enclosed mood

                            searching the unknown rooms

but no pose satisfies

                            the stifled inner emotion

as daily rhythm is

                            the daily rhythm is 

'Listen with Mother' sometimes 

                            I listen alone though

I waste what though

                           solitary but not alone

no attempts to question

                           these formalities of love

alone in this room 

                           alone with my obedience

my mind looks inward 

                          where the music plays

tears are my response

                         to maybe some Mozart

called from a somewhere

                         a transient maybe sadness

that Mozart tells me 

                         he also had known

the mutual tears fell

                        the music is so sad

the music is so sad

                        and order was disrupted

I run to mum

                       'the music is so sad'

does she understand understanding?

                        her arms hold me

is this the comfort 

                        to equal the music

it is still alive

                        so much for me

an old deep happening

                        forged into my psyche

now dressed to suit 

                        or displayed in decoration

this so private nudity

                        at a central nucleus

beset by it's enchantment

                        with finding calm congress

for the sun lit room 

                         the unaffected afternoon peace

of unworded mood thoughtful

                         at play with me

as I became inevitable

                         by the real music

a discontent soft formed

                         drawn by that circumstance

formed from the finiteness

                         of it's disappointed schism

a realized music impelling 

                        a free born excuse

to run and search 

                        the music is so sad

this music is so sad

                        so tracing this locus

tears hapless still well

                         ripped from the meself

by that lone reality

                         a life's melodic imperative 

the music is so sad

                             

    

Author's Note

This was my first attempt at a poem of a different kind to the short four liners I had been writing As such it has ,with hindsight structural faults but to rectify them would detract from the intention of the time when I wrote this .

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

Michael,
"The Music Poem"
You have brought together mind connections of youth, parents, and Mozart all pulled together by the stretching sun's movement of time's inner life pondering.
I sensed vulnerable realization within the arms of family dynamic within the safety of home to allow memory of experience. Architecture in the walls to the building of life. All the while tears are allowed. Mother is affirmed as being still needed.
Great detail within this one and it is a step by step song within waves leading from one experience-memory to the next.
I am probably repeating myself. I also am in love with classical music and tears are shed.
Bless you, this was lovely l
Kathy

[Carlton Carr]

Beautiful and evocative. Your words touched the shiftless sadness that I feel so often. Ahh, I thought, I am not alone. I love the exquisite detail (picking at the carpet pile, for instance). You have a gift for immediacy and capturing an instant that speaks through your choice of words.