Tonight's Poet Corner: The Choir Of Angels
The Choir Of Angels
by Belinda Roddie
They just let David Bowie in here,
and the air is a little sweeter from the
music. It mingles with Mozart and Beethoven,
Fitzgerald and Sinatra, Lennon and Cobain.
We listen to their warbling, their crooning,
their harmonies and dissonances, all while
eating bread and drinking wine, the crust
dry and crisp, the aftertaste lingering
like a long lost friend.
We see you clustered around your screens
and mirrors, seeking something beyond
the glare of white and the judgment of
the glass. What awaits you is a simplicity
that you may find difficult to digest. We, too,
needed time to shed the heavy garments of
human priorities. It was the view from Heaven
that soothed our sore bones, before
they disintegrated into clouds, and
the symphony - crafted from ebony keys,
fraying bows, hearts afraid of mortality -
played on.
by Belinda Roddie
They just let David Bowie in here,
and the air is a little sweeter from the
music. It mingles with Mozart and Beethoven,
Fitzgerald and Sinatra, Lennon and Cobain.
We listen to their warbling, their crooning,
their harmonies and dissonances, all while
eating bread and drinking wine, the crust
dry and crisp, the aftertaste lingering
like a long lost friend.
We see you clustered around your screens
and mirrors, seeking something beyond
the glare of white and the judgment of
the glass. What awaits you is a simplicity
that you may find difficult to digest. We, too,
needed time to shed the heavy garments of
human priorities. It was the view from Heaven
that soothed our sore bones, before
they disintegrated into clouds, and
the symphony - crafted from ebony keys,
fraying bows, hearts afraid of mortality -
played on.
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