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The Beehive.

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  • The Beehive.


    Interval
    A release of conversation
    Above me
    Vivaldi lingers in the blue mushrooms

    Theatre smell
    Music dust in crushed burgundy
    Climbing the stairways
    To the halftime bars

    I sip overpriced whiskey
    Amid a peck of cheek kisses
    Murmur of nothing talk
    And a fog of stale Chanel

    She stands by the window drapes
    Isolated by timidity
    I engage her
    With the price of a smile

    Elgar easy on the lifting strings
    As the Nimrod casts it spell
    Oblivious
    To two empty seats


    The Beehive is a name given to The Royal Albert Hall, the Mushrooms are sound disks on the high ceiling back lighted in blue. A poem on where i first met my wife.

  • #2
    Just vibrations on the ear.
    Rose like, this to her
    must sound as sweet.

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    • #3
      Quite engaging John! Sounds like a magical night!

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      • #4
        Once again thank you both for reading and your comments. Yes indeed a very special time. Actually the Beehive, in spite of the Blue Mushrooms, isn’t that great for sound unless you sit in the right places. While the Festival Hall is near perfect for listening to music.
        I very much appreciate your comments, thank you

        John.

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