Monday, July 04, 2005

Old Flatfish


A piano sat in the corner
I must have transported it
The hundred odd miles from the South
To the Midlands
But, no, that bundle of images
Is not there any more
Probably being recycled as we speak
It may turn up

And why am I writing this?
A memory sparked by a melody?
Is that why I’m writing this?
For warm glows and the sad regrets?
I’m not sure.

I was staying above a shop.
What did it sell?
Decorating stuff, paint, wallpaper.
I think.
What can I remember?
One wall was banana yellow.
The bed was a mattress on the floor.
My guitar, of course.
My stereo – as we called record players then.
And the piano in the corner.

I wrote a song
With descending notes.
Lower and lower.
Down to depths hidden.
I liked the words
But never knew what they meant.
Never imagined I’d be turning them over in my head
In the next millennium, more than thirty years
In the future

Listen to the death of old flatfish
My oh my
He has a long way to float
Listen to the death of old flatfish
My oh my
Old flatfish flies by boat

10 comments:

Kimberly said...

This.....I don't know how to explain, but I felt as if it were me, looking around, trying to remember something.

You did very well in making me feel maybe what it was you were trying to express?

This tells a lot.

I did write something in my post thanks to you :) Your a good inspiration.

Sarah said...

"I liked the words
But never knew what they meant.
Never imagined I’d be turning them over in my head
In the next millennium, more than thirty years
In the future"

that part got me.

transience said...

and there you go again, punting me with excellent imagery. this is what i love about your poetry, roger. you see everything with new eyes. and describe them in fresh, new ways. thanks.

michael said...

"Kippers for tea- oh baby kippers for tea,
Bye bye baby goodbye!"
It reminds me of something long forgotten.
Not sure what?

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

I still think fondly of my old box record player it had a sound like no other and you could change records by jumping on the floor, a lovely poem

shadowbox said...

Anyone in a band named after a great Buddy Guy song is a-ok by me! :D

Patry Francis said...

Very tactile and sensual poem. I also like its rhythms.

Roger Stevens said...

Michael, isn't the second line -

Goodbye whitebait, now fry?

Amie said...

poetic souls do think alike, aren't they? and this proves i don't have one. i wasn't able to grasp it. :(

michael said...

You could be right Roger.

Other fishy songs-

Theres a plaice for us.
Cod only knows
Salmon chanted evening
Eel meet again
Do you like sole music?
Prawn to be wild
etc. etc.