city is
hard-wired to noise-
music, car tires spitting
between streetlights-
most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs
i listen
to last kick of leaves
hitting rain-puddled steps-
it echoes
along with
guitar's strings of busker, filling
our cups
of solitude
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by De Jackson ~ This is a 44 word post with the word KICK. Join us when the pub door opens by 3 pm EST.
A little night music here--I could hear the busker's blues and horns from jazz clubs, sirens--yet in a poetic moment /to the last kick of leaves/hitting the rain-puddled steps/ --outstanding phrasing; smile.
ReplyDeleteI find the loneliness in those final lines so strong... there is not a place where it's worse to be by yourself than in the middle of a crowd
ReplyDeleteI love the sounds of the city - and you really bring it alive. I wish we had more buskers. Street music is where it is at. I like all the little textures that bring your city alive.
ReplyDeleteThe crux of this though are those cups of solitude. How sad it is that in so densely a populated place as a city we can still live in crowded loneliness.
Nothing to do with you, but the first read - I read Nose Music, instead of noise music. I chuckled at myself after a second.
Ohhhhh....an audible sigh when I finished reading this one. LOVE it all and most especially this:
ReplyDelete"most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs"
Gorgeous:
ReplyDelete"most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs"
"guitar's strings of busker, filling
our cups
of solitude"
I love that last line break. Excellent work, Grace.
Those empty cups - no coins for the buskers, no drinks to share with a friend, no coffee for self...I like the feel of this. We used to have buskers around here until the city council outlawed panhandling and of course, the panhandlers jumped on that and raised a stink. I miss the sound of the lone sax or the guitar...a very atmospheric write.
ReplyDeleteI like this late autumn evocation. I read the solitude quite positively - it felt like a mindful moment in the bustle of city life.
ReplyDeleteFirst off, your title is fantastic. And those "last kicks of leaves" and THIS:
ReplyDelete"most trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs"
Breathless, this leaves me.
'City hard-wired for noise' You say almost all there is to say right there. Great line.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful Grace, I especially love 'between streetlights- most trees are half-dressed in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs'
ReplyDeleteI love the title, Grace, and the sounds and sights of the city you have evoked so well. The lines I think are especially effective are:
ReplyDelete'...last kick of leaves
hitting rain-puddled steps-
it echoes
along with
guitar's strings of busker, filling
our cups
of solitude'.
It has a beautiful reverb!
Love how you turned around kicking up leaves - the 'orange pleats' are sheer creativity
ReplyDeleteThe "last kick of leaves" must be almost silent in a noisy city.
ReplyDeleteI see it and I feel the atmosphere. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThe hardwire of the city has left me, at least for now.
ReplyDeleteAutumn in the city--a bit of a different scene for me. I really like this description:
ReplyDeletemost trees are half-dressed
in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs
a breath of fresh air! Lovely!
ReplyDeleteLovely imagery in this quadrille.
ReplyDeleteI loved the "in orange pleats with rust-brown twigs."
ReplyDeleteThis one sings a melancholy tune...lovely, Grace.
ReplyDeleteI love the half-dressed trees and kick of leaves, Grace.
ReplyDeleteLots of music here. Loved imaging the sound of 'leaves hitting rain-puddled steps' - a melancholy tune I couldn't define - but heard clearly in your words. Thanks.
ReplyDeletewhat a sensual delight this is! :)
ReplyDeleteGorgeous! Every line a visual TREAT!
ReplyDeleteBeing alone in a city full of people is a strange thing. Your words bring the scene into sharp focus.
ReplyDeleteSounds of leaves and rain in the midst of the nousy city. Music! Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteenjoyed "most leaves are half dressed"
ReplyDelete'most trees are half-dressed
ReplyDeletein orange pleats with rust-brown twigs'
'our cups
of solitude'
These are wonderfully vivid images, Grace.
I like this, a good take on city life. A nice write☺
ReplyDeleteI like the cinematic style of your writing -- seamless transition of scenes unobstrusively walked us down the concluding focus, where the lasting impression echoes so strongly to the title. I can almost hear the guitarist singing McTell’s Streets of London.
ReplyDelete