when the meditation fails
June 29, 2009 at 6:42 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, poetry, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 17 CommentsTags: Art Tatum, contemporary poetry, poetry, writing
and the melancholic lady fully medicated
sleeps
and he forgets where the tiger what
it was
he shuffles half asleep into some
nightmare cupboard
of whispers and enemies lurking
by firelight at solstice
simply to imprint some unique mark
puts on his brown bowler hat
and says where’s Art?
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- The Australian Poet Laureate
- another quote from Robert Adamson January 31, 2010
- Three Quotes from Robert Adamson October 22, 2009
- The copyright question (2) October 7, 2009
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gingatao 
To Art Tatum playing Tiger Rag haha, it’s true,
Comment by Paul— June 29, 2009 #
Art is in this writing sir, full of music, light and shadow
Comment by tipota— June 30, 2009 #
…beautiful
Comment by Tina T.— June 30, 2009 #
grin 🙂 love the idea of shuffling into a nightmare cupboard
Comment by jessiecarty— June 30, 2009 #
*random witter* I used to know a woman who’s husband would sleepwalk every night, to take a pee in the airing cupboard. I tried to put this little story out of my mind, ha!
I love the shuffling and the bowler hat… brown is so jazzzzz.
Comment by Narnie— June 30, 2009 #
Art can certainly tap out a tune on the piano as you, my dear friend, can scratch out a poem on paper. Excellent write. Hope all is well.
Comment by Michelle Johnson— June 30, 2009 #
I loved it Paul so sweet!
Tell him love is everywhere, love is in your chick, in your snorting and in the way you trip.
So, she sleeps, but what does the tight think about the art thing?
Comment by Mariana— June 30, 2009 #
Beautiful, gotta love the unique mark, or else nothing would ever get done 🙂
Comment by Mental Mist— June 30, 2009 #
breathe in, breathe out. there it is again. squires, the man hisself.
Comment by jason— July 1, 2009 #
solstice, hmmm touched us all in a particular way… yes, no… tho im diggin the nightmare cupboard…
Comment by pieceofpie— July 1, 2009 #
The art run a way because it was searched for in the wrong way
Before he asked he should had noticed it was already there
Comment by Mariana— July 1, 2009 #
Love this ditty. Cool line breaks. It’s all a dream we can quite remember, yes?
Comment by medicatedlady— July 1, 2009 #
Oops, I mean “can’t” instead of “can.” Apologies.
Comment by medicatedlady— July 1, 2009 #
This line caught me: “he forgets where the tiger / what it was” — the creative force can be much like a tiger re: the question of taming it.
Comment by Thomma Lyn— July 1, 2009 #
One trying to imprint some unique mark. Why is that? Singularity. It’s so hard. And it’s so desirable to manifest pure self, a moment, a glance, a breath taken in, a thought. But very rare.
Comment by Aletha— July 2, 2009 #
how the heck did he play those runs so quickly with such large hands…? hmm. anyway. Art is right there in this poem, which, as usual, has
absolute pitch.
Comment by Chico Mahalo— July 3, 2009 #
For a moment I thought you were writing about a romantic encounter with Our Own MedicatedLady. However, I feel I must inform you that she would probably not be attracted to a brown bowler’s hat, hats in general, or anything to do with bowling.
nightmare cupboard = Brilliant!
Comment by poeticgrin— July 4, 2009 #