POEM – Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Rita Hardaker
Local Plett resident, Rita Hardaker has composed many delightful poems over the course of her life, and here is yet another glimpse.
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
How do you keep the music playing
How do you make it last?
Words evoke memories
Time out of time
Translucent variegated shades from the past.
How do you keep the songs from ending,
Who will compose more music, each day?
The pianist tinkles, lingers on a lying miss-note,
Composes, erases the melody he wrote.
A sax in the night, a sad haunting refrain
Notes from the heart played again and again
The streetwalker, the addict, the tramp hear it too
The refrain is old, to them, nothing new.
From the half dark of the alley
The guitarist is strumming,
Retunes the strings, in tune to the humming
Another lost soul, the drugs too expensive
The fear, ever near.
The nightclub is closed, the patrons long gone
Unplugged musicians gave their last sing-along
In moody blue, stands a lone trumpeter,
Lips pursed for a final high note.
A jagged splinter, piercing the air
The mournful blues, his life, his veneer.
Bony bones curled to ward of reality
The booze-riddled tramp lies crumpled and wasted
There are no tomorrows there was no today,
The bottle is emptied to the last drop
The world is still spinning, please make it stop!
The streetwalker, legs aching, has plied her trade
So much given, not enough made
Cold-hearted takers, sated, prices debated.
Her beat is uneven, her heels need repair
Her coat no defence for the frosty cold air
She makes her way home,
This time, alone.
A shrill siren shrieks far away
Fades like the stars to the ghost light of the day
The chorus of cats, slink off the wall
Scatter, unite tonight, to sing of their plight.
No lyrics fill trebles and bases
Discordant notes like jigsaw lives, stay
All only intervals, broken turntables
Joining those that live for the night that is their day
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams,
Which comes to all of us they say.
Poem composed by Rita Hardaker