Saturday, February 1, 2014

Mulch


Rustlings
Dried scratching
Of yellowed music scores
Anxious in the draught
Of retelling
To hear
Their notes played once more

Notes played in
Lower registers of
Brooding melodies
Of angst
Chromatic scales
Of trans-located loneliness
Practiced long enough

Aged memories
Bitter lees
That sours the taste
The parts and lines
Of roles I played
Still searching
Another stage

But I have grown
Tired of parts
Lines rehearsed too long
Praise and adulation, the
Dried, shrivelled souvenirs
For whom I never was
Fragments of a lesser me

Now notes and lines
And parts and roles
Lie, the rotting mulch
Of yester-years
The detritus of a soul
And from such waste

Seeds a truer self

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