Unaccompanied Poem by Fiona Benson

Unaccompanied

Rating: 4.2


It's raining at the garden centre.
I walk through dripping aisles of potted herbs
in a cool green rinse of aniseed and catmint.

The water falls in diatonic intervals -
each drop calls out its one clear note
as the canopy of leaves sings counterpoint.

I want you here to listen that way you do
with your eyes half-closed and mouth a little tense,
but don't come and get you. Instead, I rehearse

this trick of solitary listening
against the time you leave, like a beginner
at piano with the practice pedal down

crawling a way through the minor scale
until my fingers have it blind.
But, like listening with one ear sealed,

it misses a dimension, or depth of sound…
the rain taps shallow as a glockenspiel,
an infant music, untutored and unreal.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Clarence Prince 22 September 2016

'The leaves sings, ' as the plants were glad for the rain, that they were having... Thanks for sharing!

2 0 Reply
Subhas Chandra Chakra 22 September 2016

this trick of solitary listening against the time you leave, like a beginner at piano with the practice pedal down ....... ....... But, like listening with one ear sealed, it misses a dimension, or depth of sound… the rain taps shallow as a glockenspiel, an infant music, untutored and unreal. Beautiful theme. A nicely written poem. Your words speak a lot. 10 for the sharing. Subhas

0 0 Reply
Paul Amrod 22 September 2016

Hi Fiona, I as a musician truly enjoy your references which embelish your expression, Thank you for sharing your art, Paul

2 0 Reply
Susan Williams 22 September 2016

How to link up the creative arts and give that experience gift wrapped to the reader! ! !

2 0 Reply
Seamus O Brian 22 September 2016

against the time you leave... The keystone of this arch of beautiful verse, a poignant fragment of life that leaves us peeking through the dripping leaves, thinking we should gingerly step away, but riveted to hear you speak your rehearsed lines, fists clenched in hope that an embrace will follow, and not the echo of angry words in the garden... :)

3 0 Reply
Tom Billsborough 22 September 2016

it misses a dimension, or depth of sound.. Beautiful line. A fine sensitive poem

2 0 Reply
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Fiona Benson

Fiona Benson

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