Notes About The Poem
Craig Cornish's Forts And Castles Contest ...20 Oct 25
Makeshift Fort
Strains of notes shuttle me back
to my grandfather’s makeshift -fort
crammed with songbooks, bows, and pipes.
Here, we would empty our shoulders
from a rough sail;
he scattering fiddle tunes on painted halls--
his eyes half-closed ,melting the noise
of an anxious world, of teary wrongs.
‘Bathe in night's luster ’ he mused,
smitten by some Gerhwin's refrains...
and my rubber spine would bend with
violin strings weeping till we drowned
in trusses of orchestral magic...
Sometime in fall, dirge of nightfall exhumed
his lust for old charm...
and my eyes fall on the moat of vagueness ,
lost in the maize of this space
utterly cold.damp. unsung,
plucking his strings so hastily uninvited.
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