Empty Chairs
by Lemuel Crouse
by Lemuel Crouse
I see her alone now
Amongst the empty
Chairs where children
Once sat and sang
Clanging on triangles
And clapping blocks
Of wood in time
Well mostly in time
A kazoo she blew
Carefree swirling
Like the swishing skirt
Of a woman born to dance
As she busies herself
About the house
Singing as she dusts
The knick-knacks
Silence settles over
The scene as music
Fades and grass grows
Where once art
And joyous laughter
Rang free as cow bells
Only a solemn knell is heard
Tolling a conformist dirge
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17 comments:
like that very much, primary school memories flooding back:-)
thanks for sharing
martine
One of my favorite parts of elementary school was music hour. I hate to think of today's students missing out on the chance to play the triangle, or deconstruct "Eleanor Rigby."
That is great!
Magpie people are capable of flying off to very different places, one of the best things about this site. I don't remember much of my early school, much before fourth grade, just a few points and moments really in my whole life back then.
I always got stuck with the wood blocks...every time! Music and art are subjects near and dear to my heart. Beautiful write, Dr. L....
This one is a winner. It really took me back.
=)
this is beautiful - brought so many memories to the surface
Excellent write.
Wonderful! Just how I feel when I return to my childhood haunts, now in "late mid-life". And I find myself returning to those places more and more often these days....
Rick
Oh, she haunts one of her happy places. Nice.
oh i never want to hear the conformist dirge...i want to go back to music class....smiles
How wonderful this is...
Powerful piece. So often true...we leave our childhood joy and laughter and enter the work force only to hear a conformist dirge. Only if we are really lucky can we hear the cow bells again.
(I loved the kazoo but I fear in this day and age of germophobia the kazoos cannot be shared.)
Very lyrical and danceable...the words flow with deep meaning and cadence.
Lemuel, this piece sings like
a child prodigy, and how wonderful
to hear you read your work too.
I firmly believe that all of us who
can figure it out, need to record
ourselves reading our own poetry,
for only then do the complete
nuances and emotion finish dressing
the poetics. I love our lines;
/where once art/and joyous laughter/
rang free as cow bells/
Cow bells in rock songs always
catch my attention too.
amazing one.
amazing one.
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