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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=459378" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Music Poem</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We had finished lunch - the routine properly followed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a sunlit southern window<br>  opposite the cool other<br>outside a summer afternoon<br>  so lunch so finished<br>in some corner playing<br>  the radio goes unheard<br>into the carpets infinity<br>  I lay flat peering <br>flicking the occasional pile<br>  nosing its dry dust <br>sprawling and wasting just<br>  just passing and just</div><div style="margin:10px 0">trying to be good<br>  conjouring an instructed rest<br>but the sun falls<br>  upon the carpet maze<br>but the sun falls<br>  sliding over the paintwork<br>but the sun falls<br>  warming the bare shutters<br>but the sun falls<br>  mindful through the glass<br>falling on dad's chair<br>  leaning watching aware unaware<br>the green leatherette cool <br>  in a short while</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in a proto lotus<br>  and a proto ennui<br>my childhood simple reverie<br>  with my single orbit<br>sunlit by the room<br>  the house paces memory<br>moves with all stillness<br>  the architecture being laid<br>to now known familiar<br>  where am I here<br>made from it's time <br>  on the outside lane<br>shaped its enclosed mood<br>  searching it's unknown rooms<br> <br>but no pose satisfies<br>  the stifled inner motion<br>as daily rhythm is <br>  the daily rhythm is <br>'Listen with Mother' sometime<br>  I listen alone though<br>I waste what though<br>  solitary but not alone<br>no attempts to question<br>  these formalities of love<br>alone in this room<br>  alone with my obedience<br>my mind looks inwards<br>  there the music plays</div><div style="margin:10px 0">tears are my response<br> to maybe some Mozart<br>called from a somewhere<br> a transient maybe sadness<br>that Mozart tells me<br> he also had known<br>and mutual tears fell<br> the music is so sad<br>the music is so sad<br> and order was disrupted<br>I run to mum<br> the music is so sad<br>does she understand understanding<br> her arms hold me<br>is this the comfort <br> to equal the music</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is still alive<br> so much for me <br>an old deep happening<br> forged into my psyche<br>now dressed to suit<br> or displayed in decoration<br>this so private nudity<br> at a central nucleus<br>beset by its enchantment<br> with finding calm congress<br>for the sunlit room<br> the unaffected afternoon peace<br>of unworded mood thoughtful<br> at play with me<br>as I become inevitable <br> by the real music</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a discontent soft formed<br> drawn by that circumstance<br>formed from the finiteness<br> of its disappointed schism<br>a realized music impelling<br> a free born excuse<br>to run and search<br> the music is so sad<br>this music is so sad<br> so tracing this locus<br>tears helpless still well <br> ripped from the meself<br>by that lone reality<br> a life's melodic imperative<br>the music is so sad <br> ...........</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Oliver">Michael Oliver</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=459378" data-title="The Music Poem de Michael Oliver" data-description="We had finished lunch - the routine properly followed

a sunlit southern window
  opposite the cool other
outside a summer afternoon
  so lunch so finished
in some corner playing
  the radio goes unheard
into the carpets infinity
  I lay flat peer..."></div>
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