Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Rob Schackne #89 - A Cloud Song



A Cloud Song
                
                    pace G. Gershwin et al

I could cry salty tears
bread and wine, roses
for roses, an empty chair
ten thousand got drunk
that never was born

your picture's on the wall
above an unfamiliar bed where
have I been all these years
a cloud beginning to descend
my little wow, tell me how
I won't be seeing you again
how long has this been going on?

11 comments:

  1. love the playfulness in your short poems

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  2. Replies
    1. yes, I was thinking that too. Looks like a painting/installation. Rob?

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    2. Ha. It's weird alright. Something strange is happening here. Quite unnatural, some of it. A painting, I reckon, of something the Madman (or the Martians) left behind. It answers no questions. It is vacated. I can't even make sense out what is on the bed. A cell-like room, sure, but not so much in the incarcerated sense. Alas, I have lost the information - if I ever had it - about the artist. But thank you all very much for your comments. So...

      Photo: Google (nicked)

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  3. So playful and creative. i reckon there's more Porter and Cocker in there!

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  4. I felt sad when I read this. Am I weird? I thought of Freda Kahlo.

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    Replies
    1. No, dear Sue, there is definitely a weirdness there. And wherever there is salt, there is sadness.

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