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Frank Fields
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Ode to central park minstrel
by Walter Jones (Age: 63)
copyright 07-17-2003


Age Rating: 10 to 127

 
They took me to a time
when love was in my mind
I topple down to this other
feeling in another town

She was there talking in the square
I wish it was true but it was not you
water in the fall
snow melts the call
of rainbows in your eyes

Talking to the sun
which way to which way to run
life is not the window
in which you will see

Standing in the rain
I felt the moving of the pain
to some other person whose name
I do not know

Still the stone
was there standing in the square
a voice that did not care
calling me to come

Why is it hard to live
in the park
still not give a damn
who will come and go

When the man came
It was not in the pouring rain
it was on a jet plane
he told me I had to go home

Still in the breeze
it is summer leaves
water falling from the trees
that I now recall

what is the game
that the children play
when the parents go away
to havens gate

Why can't I find
The correct word in my mind
what happened to me this time
why must I leave this world

It was so right
when under stars
I slept at night
no body to fight

With me about what to eat
when or where I was to sleep
some times I feel the box
beneath my feet

But the rope fell to the ground
I die with out a sound
Children in the square
I think they cared

My songs they sing
jumping rope
it is as if
I were still here
I hear their laughter everywhere
I am still the minstrel in the square


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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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07-20-2003 Christopher Doss    

My favorite lines are:
Water in the fall
Snow melts the call
Of rainbows in your eyes


07-18-2003 Irina Guschina    

People come and go away from the square of the life. The minstrel sings. .. People love and people part with the love. They listen to his music, but they not hear him, his pain and loneliness. The minstrel always stays in the rain, feeling “the moving of the pain to some other person…”. His love and his pain, the pain and love of others are always inside him.
His life, his love, his songs under stars of the squares... People will forget him, but they will sing his songs. Sing, minstrel! Sing, “talking to the sun which way to which way to run life…”. Why must he leave this world is the question without the answer.
Sing, minstrel in the square!...

That is what I have felt, reading your poem, Walt.
Irina.


07-18-2003 Jenny Stein    

i like the rythm, it kind of made me bob my head while reading. if that was the effect you were going for.


07-17-2003 Janet Owenby    

Excellent!


Visitor Reads: 498
Total Reads: 564
Comments: 4

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