26: Ralph Kolewe

Sorry this took so long. You know how it is, well, first I went and read the Heine poem. Mistake. Then I sat on this for a week.

So I decided never mind Heine, what have we got here? I rearranged.

‘I have a foolish heart?’
what does that mean
sweet, forgetful midnight words?

I never regret moonlight in my bed
a banjo, a memory, a regret
another cloying poem-thing

doors where my eyes, ears, mouth, nose
should be
never fully closed

Decided the other lines didn't fit anymore. Then I thought, Tercets! I like those! Rewrote a little:

‘I have a foolish heart?’
What does that mean
sweet, forgetful midnight words?

Never regret moonlight in my bed
a banjo, a memory, a violet or
another cloying poem-thing

Tendrils of thought smoke-like
as the violet and all the other flowers
burn where my eyes, ears, mouth, nose

should be. The door never fully closed.
The banjo out of tune. Maybe I'm lazy
but not too proud to sing it all again.

Next, need a title. I hate titles. "The poet, awakening from a nightmare of German romanticism, reaches for his banjo." Maybe not. Actually the banjo makes me think of Leonard Cohen. Schubert never wrote for banjo. "The Old Banjo." That's it. Let's steal a few lines as well. From Heine too.

The Old Banjo

‘I have a foolish heart?’
What does that mean
O sweet, forgetful midnight words?

A sip of wine, a cigarette. Again.
Never regretting moonlight in my bed
a banjo, a memory, a violet

or another cloying poem-thing smoke-like
as all the other flowers burn
where my eyes, ears, mouth, nose

should have been. That old door never fully closed.
The banjo out of tune. Maybe I'm lazy
but not too proud to look up the words:

with the sweet oblivion of night
in love we disappear

Oooo look, it turned into a sonnet, too! (Well, sort of.)

Howzat?