Writings
- Der Froschkönig (The Frog Prince)
- Gazing into the distance
- Bananas are politically very sensitive
- Gravity
- Father of the man
- Die vermummte Lorelei - or Heine as a Green activist
- The last chord
- On a jab (a transexual poem)
- The Duchess's tune
- Contact
- To each his turn
- Some of my parents' writings
- My settings of some of my father's work
Contact
"Why do you sit there every day,
Unshaven, unwashed in your dirty mac?
We look as we pass, but have nothing to say,
And your milk blue eyes stare blankly back:
These shiny pools in your dirty face,
These eyes mark defeat - you have lost your race..."
His eyes lower to fix intently on the operation his life
seems to revolve around.Out comes a grubby rizla paper
from an inside pocket and a scrap of tobacco is rolled up
in it and sealed with a loving lick.There hangs his
short-lived creation from his lower lip and his eyes
return to stare blankly again at the passers-by.
"Why do you walk past every day
Well fed and groomed in your ritual suit?
I look as you pass, but have nothing to say,
We have no contact, no common root.
Do we both belong to the human race,
You nine-to-fiver, me social disgrace?"
The eyes of the passer-by rise to fix intently on the
building his life seems to revolve around.Out comes a shiny
plastic pass from an inside pocket and he blows the
pretty young receptionist a kiss.There lie his
half-finished reports in the bottom drawer and he
sets to work, with no more thought of what he passed by.
© D W Solomons 1979