CLASSICAL
Cover tunes from dead white men
Classical is that now and then.
Still the genius in them is not dead
and lives on in my heart and head.
Then the adverts flood in
and I'm reminded of the wages of sin
and change the station
yet again.
There is a certain melancholy,
reflecting the composer's life and folly.
How did they keep all those instruments in line
in the chaos that is our mind?
Today seems to be the day of the guitar
from players who know more than three chords.
To them the rock and roll guitar gods
must be the barbarian hordes.
The melody leads me down unknown paths
and puts my spirit in another class.
I'm not tempted to spin and dance
but sit here bewitched and entranced.
I don't visit here very often
but the various pieces are not forgotten.
On a cold and rainy day, except for this puerile poem,
I'm not doing anything anyway.
So in lieu of anything practical
the applause is endless
and the encore
is of course, classical.