Music I Cannot Hear

In the country of if...
I passed by there today,
tablas play
and someone sings so
I cannot hear the war machine,
cannot hear the detainee, the refugee, the people in the street
weeping as they're led away,
cannot hear the cracks in my imagination,
my friend say 'no'...cannot touch the broken window
of my memory.
In the country of if...
the spell is broken,
profits are not losses,
whistles call dogs to fields,
electricity excites again,
but not for executions,
conclusions are shut up in a box, a thread tied tightly around,
so none get loose, none end a conversation,
none say 'that is that.'--
the smug are in their fudge
and the air, at least, is free for everyone,
so sleep will come
without a demand for achievement...
it can't go on in the country of if.

This one of your best efforts of recent months, Peter. I like the whole thing.

Les

You still remember how to turn out good stuff.

Thanks, both. It is still not exactly in my control. I did turn to writing poems full time instead of 'retiring.'

It is so pleasing to have so many people back here ...
amo et avanti,

Peter

"conclusions are shut up in a box, a thread tied tightly around,
so none get loose, none end a conversation,
none say 'that is that.'--
the smug are in their fudge
and the air, at least, is free for everyone,"

Hear! Hear! As it should be. Good writing again, Peter.

Joe

I love this one Peter, very much shades of Auden throughout and I am a big, BIG Auden fan.

Agree with Les, this is very good.

I also am an Auden fan, so thank you very much, Bruce.

Joe, I wasn't sure about the fudge myself, but liked the sound.

Thanks for visiting,

amo et avanti,

Peter

Damn, Peter, this is brilliant on a couple of levels. I adore the title, so fitting.

Thanx, Gwyd. I kind of like the sounds in it myself. Thanx for stopping by.

amo et avanti,

Peter