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Trilogy 2
ABBA Trilogy
To Magda P., in grateful remembrance
of her support in hard times
QUINTESSENTIAL SONG
-a crystalline sonnet-
Upon
hearing that ABBA’s “Waterloo” won the all-time award of the
Eurovision Song Contest celebrating its 50th
anniversary
As long as
eyes will glow with passion,
as long as hearts will throb with joy,
as long as words will summon teardrops,
as long as sounds will rouse delight.
till people ride love’s rollercoaster
along the ebbs and flows of hope,
till souls will treasure all its glimmers
and tenderness will have a price,
a polar light will still be shining
on birches and gum trees alike.
Its symbol—spanning all the ages,
enduring like the stars above
and all the songs epitomising
will be a winning Waterloo.
FOUND POEM, LOST LOVE
(N.B. This
is a “found poem”-at least in part. The lines in Italic
come from ABBA songs)
It used to
be so nice, it used to be so good
and I longed for nothing more, just my small universe in
order.
There was something in the air that night,
less than the chill around my heart, but piercing like a sword.
It was like shooting a sitting duck,
more or less, or like a grounded plane being shelled at,
defenselessly.
The loser has to fall
and I was crushed beneath the unexpected.
Finally facing my Waterloo—
(and not the first one, either), I knew the drill, picked up my
stuff and went away.
One of us is crying;
still, oddly enough, I’m not quite sure it’s me.
You were always sure of yourself.
now you’ve vanished into thin air, refusing my eyes as a mirror.
When the pretty birds have flown,
chances are, I won’t live on the same street, in the same
parrish.
If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend,
for it was feeding my soul, broadening its horizons.
So I say: Thank you for the music
which you made sound, setting the spheres in motion.
We’re here for chess
—cynics would say—we can’t control the moves.
My Lord and God isn’t blind, he knows no karma and he wants that
I have a dream, I cross the street…
THE SONG AND THE GAME
-a pseudo-pantoum-
inspired by ABBA’s “Chess” musical
The globe
engages in a game of chess,
The warring camps have sent ahead their spies.
A neutral song—so daring—gently flies
To menaced souls imparting its caress.
The warring camps have sent ahead their spies
Grand Masters strive to show all their prouesse
To menaced souls imparting its caress,
The soft song helps the morning star to rise.
Grand Masters strive to show all their prouesse,
Both keenly seeking the rival’s demise.
The soft song helps the morning star to rise:
It comes, like angels, harmony to bless.
Both keenly seeking the rival’s demise,
The colour of their kings they wish to stress.
It comes, like angels, harmony to bless,
The soft, sweet song, stronger than battle cries…
The colour of their kings they wish to stress!
The cutting edge, that severs all the ties!
The soft, sweet song, stronger than battle cries,
Does not explode, but conquers nonetheless…
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