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Poetry
four songs for a solo joyce
By patterjack
10 March 2006
The intricacies of formatting have finally overcome me . My real regret however is not being able to add the four colours to the four parts -- could the kind reader supply their own vision for the parts? i. Green , ii. red , iii.golden brown iv. blue .

i . Soprano harry me


analytic

watching the thin membranous sections fall
feeling the keen peeled agony
of slow dissection without anaesthesia


classic

preferring the desiccated bone
ignoring the living veil of palpable flesh
imposing the canons of an abstract form

twisted

a word and a world askew
and that was the way he saw it all
a weltanschauung slightly out of focus

THUNDERBURST of blood
drumbeat of the season
flute-flung note to flood
the mind with fine unreason

The fury of the Spring
bruises to the bone
against its long green sting
none can stand alone


i i .Tenor marry me

synthetic

fitting new parts to the once outmoded jigsaw
cooling the fire of flux to a medial form
of moments in the movement of creation

romantic

heeding the sudden hyperpyrexia
feeling the foliation of the blood
seeking the fullness of the amorphous finite

symmetrical

a wealthy world of words
he gained by the simple shutting of an eye
a new view of the tridimensional image

RAVISHMENT brought joy
mere love could not bestow
life became a toy
a bright diabolo

and easy joy sang long
throughout the sleazy Summer
while sentimental song
helped still the noisy drummer


i i i.Contralto bury me

plenary

cascading images overflow the mirror
eternity becomes a sphere

DISSOLUTION has a roundness
hinting at perfection
at the core of Autumn’s soundness
begins disintegration


iv. Bass bind me

agnostic

presuming death as the end
assuming

PROVIDENTIALITY lulls the fever
to know if Winter is forever


Reviews

Written by nascent (106 comments posted) 10th March 2006
Does that help :)
How now , my metal of India
Written by patterjack (1196 comments posted) 10th March 2006
 
SIR TOBY BELCH 
 
Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? ..... 
 
Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy 
bond-slave?
 
 
Other thanks would become fulsome

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