Watchtower (Poetry Monthly)

Gold cherry

By Noo

Sat, 09 Jul 2016
  • 1756 reads
6 comments
 

The bustle of the Bullring

In Brum

On a trapped Saturday

Walking Mammon’s shiny aisles

Knowing the need for cheer

A new pair of shoes brings

Ain’t worth this

The old man stops by Costa’s benches

To watch the world

He sees

The thief, bag in hand

Delighted at his

Non-purchase

He sees

The boys

Spotty, beautiful jokers

Entranced by their own banter

He sees

The businessmen

Worrying about

The way the world is going/

Not worrying about

The way the world is going

He sees

The gardeners

Looking up at the mall’s glass roof

Musing on whether

The weather will hold off

Long enough

To cut the grass

The old man

Has had enough

Of watching

And walks into HMV

To idly flick through

Songs he no longer knows

And still he sees

The thief clock

The security guard

At the door

And double-back on himself

The two biker dudes

By the jazz section

Meet and air kiss

“Enchante”

“Likewise”

The exhausted looking girl behind the counter

Stacking Adele CDs

The scrawny kid, thin as a vicious cat

Watching her watching him

And Dylan comes over the speaker

It’s weird, out of time

It takes the old man to a world

Long crumbled

The scrawny kid has

Never heard it before

Maybe the Hendrix wail

But not this frayed nerve jangle

This spare threat

The howling wind circles and

Weaves its music

The exhausted girl and the scrawny kid

Lock looks

With something, if not

Enchantment

Damn close to it

And the old man yawns and wonders why

The thief speaks kindly

 

Certificate 12
Poetry Monthly

Comments

Submitted by hudsonmoon on

Love this, Noo. Made me smile. will have to read it again. 

Rich

 

Submitted by london_calling79 on

That last line - drawing the song to the scene is inspired. I'm so glad the music triggered something, anything in them. I worry that it triggers nothing in so many.

 

Submitted by tcook on

I like this - the Watchtower theme as the watcher watches the watchers and the watched, if you know what I mean.'Scuse me whilst I kiss the sky. There's nothing like a bit of Jimi to bring out the best in all of us. I was sixteen when I went into a little jazz cvlub off the back of Oxford Street at around 11 at night. Mike Westbrook and his band were playing way out music, twelve us were watching. In walked Jimi and played along - for four hours! One of the magic moments of my life.

A great poem - so many great visual images.

Submitted by seashore on

I simply love the surreal quality of this poem.  Well, that's how I see it anyway.

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

I love how you show a shift of sound and voice moves mood from desolation to hope, the transforming power of music.  i like the watchtower shape of the poem too. 

Submitted by celticman on

we see, what he sees and it's worth the watching.