SkySpace

I hardly ever look up at the sky
It's disappointing a lot of the time
I hope that something makes me laugh or cry
Or be entertained by funny cloud mime

It's disappointing a lot of the time
Stars; the moon; black, white, grey and just plain blue
Or be entertained by funny cloud mime
Sky stories are told; they're all untrue

Stars, the moon, black, white, grey and just plain blue
I'm told the sky is filled with dreams to chase
Sky stories are told; they're all untrue
Above us is wide open empty space

I'm told the sky is filled with dreams to chase
I hope that something makes me laugh or cry
Above us is wide open empty space
I hardly ever look up at the sky

So Jim's cousin is writing a trumpet concerto called "Skyspace", which will have it's world premiere later this year.  I liked the name, so sat down and BOOM![1] one hour later this was sitting on my hard drive. Just to be clear I, and I believe no one in the entire world, has heard the concerto, so I'm inspired solely by the name. That said, if I happen to inspire anything I will be happy to be credited.

On another note, these poems are all very gloomy, aren't they? They read like a talented and literate seventeen year old nursing a grudge against their parents/ teachers/ ex-/ the weather/ getting up before noon. It's not like I'm depressed for days, or weeks or months on end and the poems are letting it all out. I don't know, perhaps that's what the pantun or pantoum brings out; the constant circling and the inevitability of the ending dragging dark words, phrases and images out of me.

[1] Actually "Hmm. Tap tap tap. Slurp. Tap tap tap. [silence]. Taptaptap. Tap. Hmm."