We cherish beauty in the stars

And slivers of a new-born moon,

Collapsing far away from Mars,

Preparing reappearance soon.


The evenings trumpet fuller moons,

Each rising higher in the sky,

While Bruckner’s matchless, melting tunes

Are tracing shapes in your mind’s eye.


Dark night paints portraits of the dead;

Their beauty is too much to bear.

From music stored inside your head

Flow melodies sublime and rare.


Though all noctural glow will dim

And moon and stars will fade away,

A whispered voice, upon a whim,

Will tell the orchestra to play.

◄ Agony Street

Poets ►


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Stephen Gospage

Wed 12th Aug 2020 15:50

Thanks to Shifa, Abdul, Po, Julie and Gary for the kind comments and likes.

Anton Bruckner was not Mozart or Beethoven, nor probably even Mahler. Some of his music can be plodding and repetetive. But at his glorious best (e.g. the adagios of symphonies 2&6) he produced melodies touched by genius.

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Abdul Ahmad

Tue 11th Aug 2020 18:23

A star studded symphony.

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Shifa Maqba

Tue 11th Aug 2020 18:20

Both your imagery and lyricism are outstanding. Amazing poem!

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