This poem is based upon 'Landscape with the Fall of Icarus' by Pieter Bruegel
Also inspired by Musée des Beaux Arts by W. H. Auden~
No farmer or merchant felt the sound
That Icarus made when he had drowned
Icarus splashed and kicked and flailed!
Dying, crying to those who sailed
“Help me, help me! Direct your course!”
But those merchants felt no remorse
Icarus gave a final wish
To a man attempting to bait fish
Dozy, the fisher went to sleep
Then Icarus died, and no one weeped
And a farmer who had heard his needs
Felt far too busy planting seeds
Since that painting it’s been years long
Yet I find Bruegel was never wrong
No one ever feels the pain
Another Icarus has attained
So where is Icarus now?
We are an Icarus when out with blues
We read of Icarus in sickening news
We see an Icarus in city streets
Begging, craving for food to eat
And though we all are sick of this,
The world won’t stop for Icarus
Two sons had 'Peasant' Bruegel
Pieter 'the elder' nicknamed hell
another known as 'younger' with 'h' in his name
second son Jan ,also with his art,found fame
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