Bach in the Shower

And so it hurts and on it goes,
walking over the bridge,
so cold, the wind blowing
and when you stop you kiss
my nose and say
'hey babe, its cold enough for snow'
and I smile, like I always do.
You buy me chocolates that I leave
and flowers left in a basin with a crack,
you never make the bed,
the shutters at the window
left closed so that when I hurry home
I have to squint to see if a light
is glowing through the slats.
You meet me on the stairs,
take the battered case and my
leather satchel filled with books,
and the music playing isn't Bach
or Dvorak, you like Alice Cooper
and Led Zeppelin, we listen
to Ziggy Stardust, I like
Rock n Roll Suicide the best
and when I sit on your knee
you say my hair smells of flowers
but I know it doesn't
it smells of scores and chalks,
linseed oils and rushed through lunches
that I never have time to eat.
The heat never seems to work,
I sit with the covers drawn up
over my knees and the shawl
we bought at the bazaar.
I love the fringe in old gold
and emerald thread.
I still keep a fragment woven
through my being,
take it out and let the firelight
imitate that look, the one you had
the one you bestowed
while in the final climax of it all,
I listen to Bach in the shower
and think about those Ziggy days
and so it goes, just on and on.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 652 times
Written on 2014-01-12 at 20:13

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I enjoyed this poem, but it's very sad. The last line is a killer.
2014-01-14


Ivan R
Like a waterfall, as the seasons of the world, a life in different ways and tune and struggles, and all worth it. Beautiful life here showed.
2014-01-13



This is not a funny poem, and I do like it and understand the meaning of it, but I am amused, heartily so, at the title. I cannot get the image out of my head: Bach in the shower, sudsing himself and humming mightily to some yet to be written notes, and hoping the hot water doesn't run out before he gets it worked out.
2014-01-12


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
'he played it left hand but made it too far
became the special man
then we were Ziggy's band.'
seems the shadows of memories
live on to dance, the music of lines
our ghostly magic lantern shows
what once was....
What to comment? You paint music with words
my friend.
2014-01-12