Ken's Poetry

Jazz In The Park

The Octagon, Dunedin

Jazz in the park,
trumpets in the brassy air,
thrilling with trills dark doorway ears
echoing on cathedral walls and spires;
trombones sliding down marble steps
their melodies melting in old veined stone.
Out of tune the white gulls calling
jerk with the saxes over the circular sky
and pigeons grumble with piano chords
jigging on the bricks by Robbie Burns.
Feet about the Octagon tap
in lazy mimicry the drums’ crisp beat
till out of the great crescendo falls
applause in gentle raindrop peace
as I, pen poised compose …
nothing that you could play.