Finches on Fender guitars
On a desert island
In the midst of the city bars.
Room to move and reflect
On the sounds created
By the feathered sect.
Women weeping for ruined relics
Iraqi's treasures scorned
No regard for history's chic.
War - the enemy of art
That seeks to destroy
The creative heart.
Uplifting of the soul and mind
Art is the panacea.
Where the milling throng can find
An outlet for their desires.
Cornered and corralled mostly
The masses encouraged to aspire.
Kym Matthews
1st March 2009
3 comments:
Three verses each with a different and distinct message yet all three encompsing the theme. That is good work Kym. I particularly liked the reference to Iraq and the devastation of the cultural and art heritage caused by the ill conceived war visited upon that ancient country.
The Fender touch is interesting. The finches are the guitarists and the feathered sect, the dazed, disjointed listeners, dancers and drinkers?
And art, all art, most certainly does lift the soul, (though indeed not of all who see, hear or touch) ,if by times humanity, destroys it in its relentless march of greed.
This is the language I love in this poem: 'Finches on Fender guitars', 'feathered sect', 'Women weeping for ruined relics', "Cornered and corralled mostly/ The masses encouraged to aspire.'
Terrific poetry!
Post a Comment