Bio: Robert Maddox-Harle (aka Rob Harle) is a poet, artist and reviewer. His work is published in journals, anthologies, online, and in books. He is on the editorial board of a number of international art and literary journals including Leonardo. His current work is concerned with restoring the “mysterium tremendum fascinans” which postmodernism has all but destroyed.
Allegro Vivace
adventures come and go
days fly by in a mesmerising hurtle,
nail it down
slow it down
the race to death is too hectic.
seems like yesterday
fixing dad’s vintage Victor mower,
sixty five years have slipped by
days crossed off the calendar
a calendar of unknown finitude,
a pile of days dissolved like morning mist,
constant battles against unnecessary angst
have etched their marks too deep.
family ties both East and West
the tyranny of distance hard
but still we made the effort,
now all but two are gone
one East and one out distant West,
different oceans different shores apart.
Dvorak dissolves my largo introspection
throwing me to the floor in rapture,
Adagio - Allegro Molto
Largo
Molto vivace
Allegro
“New World’ in E Minor roars,
roaring, dipping, diving
a cascading avalanche of orchestral bliss
testing the glass of old windows,
Moderato
Tempo Di Valse
Scherzo
Larghetto
“Finale” - Allegro Vivace,
and now I am young again.
Red Queen
The Red Queen stands aloof
commanding her subjects with shouts,
mysterious in her gaze
compelling in her countenance.
Agitated she invites the Mad Hatter to lunch,
“Bring the red tea
and a menu now!”
“What are the
ingredients of Rabbit Pie?”
she screeches sourly.
Sugar, water, salt
Salted plums, thickener, tomato paste
Food acids (330, 260), garlic, ginger
Rabbit on the bone
Dripping, flour, flavour enhancer (621)
Caramel (150a)
The tension rises, looks are exchanged.
Exclaiming rudely the Mad Hatter shouts
“I do not eat Rabbit
Pie!”
“Then”, off with
your hat!
and then, off with
your head!”
Remember what the Dormouse said?
“Feed your
head”.
Cut Short
it started at five in the morning
falling out of bed,
a strange reaching-out dream
over balanced, flat on my back
the floor was hard and unforgiving.
consult the oracle
Astro-girl in the local tabloid,
You’ll have a hard day!
Be careful meeting strangers!
Perhaps a trip down memory lane!
filtering through a box of old cards,
a get well card from
Bhakto
now he’s dead
i miss his Zen sayings.
a Christmas card from Derek
now he’s dead
i miss his smile and sculptures.
a cartoon card from KAF
now he’s dead
i miss Kevin’s clay and artistic way.
Another card another one dead
more cards more dead
too many friends, too many family
All dead!
forlorn i threw the cards
one by one into the fire,
the funeral pyre with saddened flames
smoked and roared
as i reflected on these truncated lives.
like young shrubs, tender saplings
mercilessly pulled from the ground
purged before their peak,
All dead!
Dead! Dead! Dead!
the cast became too long to continue,
the sadness too great to swallow!
Rage and grief are close companions as the poet muses on a life lived. I especially feel the last poem-- its strength of expression and power of movement.
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