On viewing Bronson’s frown lines in HD
as Morricone’s trumpets frame his glare,
the closure of revenge and destiny.
I think of how the master wrote his score
before a single frame of film was shot
and once again my mind returns to form—
the old music that the rhyme scheme imparts
the soundtrack for our urbane platitudes,
for smart phone thumbs to tap out Po-Mo thoughts.
This constant metric metronome was used
throughout the many centuries by those
that kept the five stress engine running through
the countless wars, the ever aloof muse,
the change of landscape, til the carbon clock
runs out, and longer still, why not? Who knows
if this rock of ages knows the age of rocks?
Aug 11, 2012 @ 09:13:26
At first I was not sure about this poem so I read it several times and I will probably read it several more times to extract every ounce of meaning. I like the connection here between poetry and music…the two are so connected.
As for Morricone, well there the connection is between visual images and haunting theme music.