Skellywag

Monday, March 13, 2006

Bad Poetry: The Beast

Glinting claws arrayed scratch 
Aural sparks on the granite air:
Bows appear as rippling fur
While cymbal jaws snap echoes.
The polished underbelly of wood and silver
Glints with every flick of the baton-tongue:
Faces recede into scales.

Bruckner's 7th seems better without
The encumberance of specs!
Henley Symphony Orchestra


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