Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Tuesday Poem: "The Shamans of Mandurah - Part Two: The Shaven-headed Singer"



On the Mewburn rank,
the taxi driver curses the silent two-way radio
as he peels his sweat-soaked back
off the vinyl seat.
Like an osprey scanning the shifting sea
for silver flashes,
he appraises each approaching shopper.
Only the growing sound
of loud and tuneless singing
breaks his newsprint-induced trance.
A laugh bursts from his lips
as he watches The Shaven-headed Singer
on his child-size bicycle
freewheeling past the agape pedestrians.
They look askance at one another
in case this passing madness
might call out their own demons.
Then, rolling back their eyes like grateful Plague survivors,
they go back to their lemming rush
for lifestyle with a capital L.
Only the taxi driver,
knowing the arbitrary yardstick of sanity,
loves The Shaven-headed Singer
for celebrating the wildness in us all.

POET'S NOTE: Here is the second instalment in the series started last week. Enjoy.

2 comments:

  1. Really enjoyed these two poems Andrew. Maybe they envied the Shaven-headed singer for his ability to be free!

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  2. Yes, I felt that. He always seemed to be happy and singing and child-like. He may have had some intellectual impairment, but that didn't stop him engaging with life with great gusto and joy. His singing was really quite tuneless, but I couldn't help breaking out in a big smile every time I saw him because, as you say he seemed so free. Free of artifice, free of pretension, free in a way that most of us never manage because we get so caught up in this thing called "life".

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