Walked by a window, saw myself in that,
Indiana Jones takes a morning stroll,
Arranged to meet my wife, I have her hat,
So there’s time to fill; the poets on patrol.
Over the bridge there’s a flower show,
The annual collision of colours has started,
Met a friend on the way, said “hullo”
Introduced him to my wife’s hat, then we parted.
Flowers versus people, seems like even odds,
Sister says to Alex “stop running”
Totally bemused he stops…
She starts … that’s cunning!
. Indiana Jones and the blooming mess,
. What for … it’s anybody’s guess!
© Tim Grace, 13 August 2010
To the reader: Impressions by nature have a lasting effect. The look of myself reflected in a shopfront window was what caught my eye; there at my side was Indiana Jones. Together, as described by the shape of our shared hat, we were on our way to a flower show to solve a blooming mess. For the intrepid visitor, a flower show offers much in the way of spontaneous visual content; none better than the antics of siblings at play … a colorful display indeed!
To the poet: This poem is sketched out of three moments that quickly unravelled into a sequence of novel events. With twenty minutes to spare, I sat at a picnic table sandwiched between two families and began to write. The hat, the friend, the missing person, the children in dispute all assembled into this playful poem. True to the notion of a sketch, a poem like this has to be of the moment; I had to freeze and divorce myself from the action to capture its spontaneity.