Wednesday, 19 September 2012


He walks along in personal space
- now - worry a lot,
because there’s a violin case in his left hand.
You never know what’s in a case like that!?

The man stands up and grunts, and starts.
He lightens up strings
as if Bach is here, now,
in present tense: string-tense: a sigh.

Hear sixty three repeating bases,
respectful, alert:
stabbing a bow;
roundabout bow

of melody, rhythm and chord.
Like Hopkins he springs
triumphantly tragic;
grief in Bach’s pain!

Alone! And hear an elbow pull
become scratched - a touch
of homecoming earth-time;
heavenly business.

A solitary man gyrates
and puppets in dance,
grieving, he’s busy,
- a lonely string screams:

so catching and real – Bach’s wife’s death.
Let’s grieve like a Bach;
screech in a bow-string,
grieving vibration.

But Bach is up now – lifting now,
envisioning hope.
Play us to ecstasy:
Heaven and Earth!

Has anything changed since last breath?
A man and his bow,
back in its case, away, walking away
from intimate personal space.


  1. Out of the violin case comes the magic.

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  3. Your lines have lots of energy! I can hear Hopkins' influence, too.

  4. excellent, it is the first of your poems ive read, i can see why you have such a big following.

  5. humor and grief... this poem felt jerky and abrupt to me at moments, but the overall flow pulled me to the end. I think I'll have to read it a few more times to really internalize it.

  6. I love it. Is very clever I know what I see. Don't think it needs over analyzing. Just enjoy - I did. Thank you

  7. brilliant !!! :)

  8. Second verse, last three lines - my favourite bit ... brilliant :-)