Poetry page

Song
The piano echoes softly,
Each note sounded individually.
A deep, booming drum
Contrasts with the chiming piano.
The guitar, sharp and metallic
Rises and falls
In flowing layers
Of effortless chords.
A voice starts to sing,
Moving from tranquil baritone
To melancholy treble,
Soaring upwards
'Til the highest, final note
Is sung in wretched sorrow
And fades gently into oblivion.
The guitar plays the final chords,
Before it breaks-off into silence.
The rhythm of the drum
Beats at slower intervals
And ceases.
The piano echoes softly
Each note sounded individually.

The Discarded Saddle
Lying forgotten in a dim, shadowy corner,
Cast absent-mindedly onto the cold cobbled floor,
A husk of leather and aged tan suede,
Once sleek and supple and carefully oiled,
Elastic and cushiony,
Moving in harmony with the body it rested on.
The domed stirrups, silver and polished,
Now lie rusting, their metalwork tarnished,
The brittle strips of leather they droop from,
Hang wearily, threadbare and spent.
A length of frayed material fastened to buckles
Dangles listlessly,
Remembering days when it wrapped tightly
Around the girth of a horse.
A light is switched on and people appear,
Fetching gleaming leatherwork
And chattering excitedly,
Until they leave and all that remains
Is the dusty old saddle,
Lying forgotton in a dim shadowy corner.

By the Bridge
The sleek waterfowl
Glide under the tumbling bridge
Of worn, tired slate and brick,
That spans the flowing stream.
Fish dart and glide in the crystal water,
Escaping from small children,
Who stumble hesitantly,
Clutching wire nets,
And swinging them haphazardly.
Their parents watch,
Resting on blankets,
Whilst sipping drinks,
And talking quietly among themselves.
Dogs romp through the reeds,
Splashing in gentle waves
Before bolting to the children,
And shaking droplets of water
Over their bare limbs and faces.
The children laugh, and scream and tumble,
Entangled with dogs and fishing nets,
Into the sparkling river.

The Unicorn
Gliding cross green velvet fields
Under the cloak of darkness,
Shining pure white,
Like a shaft of moonlight
Fallen to Earth.
Galloping through clearings
And soaring over brushwood,
With all the grace
Of the majestic eagle.

He rests at the crystal clear stream,
Pausing to lower his dainty head
And sip at the cool water.
Finally he turns for home,
Serenely, silently by old crumbled farmhouses,
Till he reaches his misty forest,
And by an old oak tree he settles,
Gazing wistfully at the sky
As dawn rises over the mountains.

The Cat
Watching silently, calmly waiting,
Relaxed in manner of misleading serenity.
Eyes which convey a roguish nature,
Fill with virtue when observed
He purrs and rumbles in his satisfaction,
And stretches his claws with the air of a saint;
But when all is darkness and no-one stirs,
His halo drops with a clang to the floor;
He leaves his trail of destruction behind him,
Till he feels that the wrongs of the world have been righted,
Then he preens and washes his mischief-tainted coat,
And greets the dawn under a cloak of purity.

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