Hi Matt, Frank, James,
Thanks for the comments.
No, Matt, I'd never heard of Underwater Moonlight or the band that played
it. I guess it's been a subject for stories ever since people began to make
statues.
And, Frank, I guess a few of the stories have them coming to life secretly,
at night or whatever!
And James, yeh... I guess it could appear, in a loose-ish kind of way to
appear as a sonnet. But, as you say, I wasn't overly bothered about a five
beat/iambic pentameter length of line. Each line seemed to chose its own
length...
Bob
>
>
>The Statues Of Prague
>
>They stretch and yawn, clamber down from plinths,
>from lintels, canopies, and balustrades,
>to crowd into some seldom visited square
>where they murmur in their ancient languages
>of what they've seen since the last time
>they gathered like this. Expressionless faces
>begin to smile, some give stone cracking laughs
>at the follies of people, their fickle moods,
>the arguments, quiet confessions of love,
>while others dance slowly or sit and play cards
>until dawn pinks the sky when they sigh, return
>and hoist themselves heavily to where they're seen
>so high above us with looks on their faces
>we can never reach, so single minded, so alone.
>
>
>
>Bob Cooper
>
>(who hasn't got a cow in there anywhere!)
>
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