Thelonius’ Introspection
scaling genius charts
dissonant tones
shake expectations.
startling melodies
play with sensibilities.
subterranean currents
surge with classical intrigue.
spaces
sparse as sparrows
quaver
while
haunting boogies
roll off
key.
silent chants slide
in veiled choruses.
hand in hand
music and mind
spiral
light to dark.
memories are snatched
as blinking snapshots
swirl
blurred features
of an unremembered son.
purring cats
in lost feline grace
prowl out
black
closing notes.
Tane’s Gift
Sailing his golden waka
across the heavens,
Rangi swoops
to kiss the shoreline,
softly,
lovingly,
passionately.
Lip warm
unseen
mysterious
ocean currents,
plying their trade
under his watchful eye,
bless Aotearoa.
Papa,
in her bounteous beauty,
welcomes the winds,
swirling in gullies,
racing over mountain tops,
sweeping through plains,
while cradling
low genteel murmurings.
Sheathed in white
the new forest,
enamoured
in elegant kotuku splendour,
is embraced
under the guardianship
of Tane.
Blades rotate,
harnessing the winds,
repaying Nature
for her gift.
Miles Upon Miles
Tempestuous notes
in boundless musical exploration
forged
knife edged existences
fragmented in treacherous whirlpools
of drug dilapidated
daydreaming nightmares;
aching
intermittent pain
blown aside
for his true great love;
The Man
and
His Music.
Jazz
filtered
black
in smoke drenched dens
of mutual escape;
centre stage
panther sleek
seducing womens’ dreams
with sensuous trumpeting
mute desires.
Eyes sauntered,
lips enticed
excitable murmurings
of tossed pillows
in lustful longings;
gentle chords
of
delectable delights
whispered nights
into morning’s glory.
Atlantic crossings
spawned
Paris’
exquisite
cultural beauty;
veils lifted
as webs were spun
where
black
meandered the Seine
hand in hand
with white;
the Left Bank
smouldered
hypnotique harmonies.
Drawing
infinite constellations
of
youthful musicians,
the charismatic Pied Piper
tended
a flowering hot house
of ideas and experimentation.
Restless in relationships,
continually seeking
revolutionary musical directions,
running ahead,
evading
the dread of boredom.
Miles Davis
the Colossus
is dead
but
His Music
His Life
are
Everlasting.
Babylon’s Pain
Babylon aches
under grinding wheels
while the Tigris weeps
with burning eyes.
Clouded crowds
hug their hopes
on battered pavements.
Blaring sirens,
like bleating goats,
harbour everyday’s pain.
Tiny feet
play on muffled threads
as fearful shadows
haunt
hide and seek.
Rifling squads
slash and bury
civilisation’s soul.
Perilous journeys,
nightmarishly wrapped
in pious prayers,
skirt the Prophet’s dream.
Lost highways,
in storms of betrayal
spiral angrily.
Heaven’s tragedy
crosses life to death
as mourners wail
within
Liberty's birth.
Picasso’s Brush
Alone
she takes her favourite walk,
down to the still waters
of the pond
where she gazes
at the muted mask
of her reflection.
Her face distorts
under Picasso’s brush
as a twirling leaf
cushions its watery fall.
On a palette of blue
clouds ripple and sway
as a sycamore seed
propels playtime
into
art form.
Her love lost eyes
dance with memories.
She kneels
and with pursed lips
she stoops her head,
and her tongue,
her tongue
like an angel’s blush,
parts the waters
for her lover’s return.
Tom Randles. Born and bred Liverpool England. Left the fog bound shores
always chasing a soccerball. Bounced around in Australia before discovering
New Zealand. Played with the All Whites before they came the All Whites. Now
in Wellington coaching soccer full-time. Started writing poetry a year ago
while taking french class as a means of translating my thoughts from english
to french. Love jazz and expanding horizons.
