At corner of street, by old courthouse
he stands in his kilt, tartan pattern & knee high socks
blowing his bagpipe as crowds cross & crunch their shoes-
above smog & din of cars & traffic lights
his face a yellowed paper, hair delicately frail,
he spins a solemn note, hailing from old country-
The rhythm is grass & rolling hills
where wind marches with trees
& sky brimming of blue spring blooms-
Here time is slow procession-
A young man backpacking with his toddler, comes close-
Another man dragging his suitcase, listens & drops
a dollar in his open black case-
Impromptu, bagpiper switches to modern pop strains
to catch more coins & tourists ambling by-
All too soon, sun hides behind grey clouds
Everyone hurries to & fro, tick tock of subway crowd
ear-plugged, holding Starbucks coffee or free
metro news in their somewhere-to-go stride-
But for the old man
piping his lungs with city dust & crumpled bills -
Two blocks across, I turn into my building
his music now rain drop, pulled under tides
bobbing half-mingled with my breath-
perhaps a sob for the land that long disappeared -
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Rhythm of the Road - During my lunch break yesterday, I saw this bagpipe player at the busy street corner. He seems to be regular fixture plying the Toronto tourist-belt streets.
Photo credit: here
Very nice, a little sad...
ReplyDeleteI particularly like how he played the songs of meadows and grass.. So sad that people switched to earplugs.. But pop-music on bagpipes is maybe not the best.
ReplyDeleteI know, it was weird listening to it ~ Thanks Bjorn ~
DeleteThis reminded me of when I step out of the subway in NYC. Always a treat to be greeted by some type of music. I never know what it will be, but it's always fun and unique! As always, thank you and have a wonderful week!!
ReplyDeleteElsie
AJ's wHooligan in the A-Z Challenge
Well done. >KB
ReplyDeleteI love the buskers wherever I find them, for the street performer connects to the wandering minstrels of antiquity, & I never miss stopping to enjoy them, rain or shine; nice rocking, or squeeze-blowing of the prompt.
ReplyDeleteA different rhythm to the one you are used to, telling of different ways, surely has to be a refreshing change. Good for him...
ReplyDeleteVery cool take on the prompt...rather than the piper travelling, you give the view of everything travelling past the piper. Lovely!
ReplyDeletethis made me feel that time slowing down... lovely imagery, with a thread of wistful sadness running through it.
ReplyDeletethe rhythm is grass and rolling hills...smiles...love how you decribe it...and he sounds like a cool character...i would love to sit and listen or stop and talk to him....in the grit of the city, he provides a bit of beauty....
ReplyDeleteYes he does but apparently the pedestrians in the city are familiar with him, so he is ignored except by the tourists ~ Thanks Brian ~
DeleteI def would stop and enjoy his tunes... sad how he had to play pop for people to really listen and get more money... am I the only who's sick of pop music yet? ugh...
ReplyDeleteI love the traditional bagpipe music and yes I am also sick of pop music ~ Thanks Anthony ~
Deleteaaahhh Lassie there be nothing finer than the sound of the pipes...
ReplyDeletethe bagpipe always moves me...I think it adds dignity to any type of music.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.redhotchillipipers.co.uk/
OW! Those last 4 lines kept me there with him in the rain. A gorgeous walk by! Reminds me of the dorm in Scotland with the bagpiper class in the courtyard. I'm sure your serenade was better.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done Grace. I am happy to see that the bagpiper comes inn your poetry too - nice.
ReplyDeletedo like how the music takes one back
ReplyDeleteOh what a beautiful story you have told in this poem. Sometime there is a chap that comes and plays his pipes in the park near my house. I wish he was here playing now.
ReplyDeleteSad and beautiful. I love the bagpipes.
ReplyDeleteLove bagpipe sound Grace this is beautiful
ReplyDeleteI heard i funerals here too sometimes but I love it!
Oh this is amazing...very nice take on the prompt! Thanks for joining in.
ReplyDeleteWould not want to be the one standing there blowing away, need my breath lol
ReplyDeleteA wonderful capture and an emotive piece, Grace. I especially like-- piping his lungs with city dust & crumpled bills
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this poem, Grace. I love the sound of well-played pipes. I failed bagpipe lessons, unfortunately (and ignominiously).
ReplyDeleteK
Street entertainers are fascinating to me- I have to stop and watch and listen. Poetry and music are inseparable.
ReplyDeletebagpipes in the distance... a great sound!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful photo to go with a lovely poem
ReplyDelete"his music now a raindrop"... Loved those words. Beautiful piece!
ReplyDeletealways have admired buskers. i suspect he's quite a character, your piper ~
ReplyDeleteSo good...using the bagpiper brought the rhythm to life and the images are perfect.
ReplyDelete"Impromptu, bagpiper switches to modern pop strains!" Ohh! Bagpipers entertaining tourists! Today I miss London.
ReplyDeleteThis is great! You don't see fun things like this where I live. You create a great vivid image.
ReplyDeleteI thought this was a lovely record of the piper, the street, people, I enjoyed this very much Well done Grace.
ReplyDeleteLove the bagpipe inspiration. It is sad that the culture is dying.
ReplyDeleteFeels intriguing and melancholy all at once. I like how the everyday hustle and bustle contrasts with the slow measured pace of bagpipe playing.
ReplyDelete