Notes from an abandoned poem

In poetry
              as in all other arts
the medium
              really is the message
Four notes on the piano
              a sonic cultural landscape
instantly recognisable
              can ferry the mind
back and forth
              as in its simplicity
it evokes and moves
              and satisfies

Harmony and rhythm
              are our touchstones
the palpability of the keys
              because art is hands-on
percussive shapes
              and sounds and colours
and textures drawn
              from inside ourselves
from that insatiable appetite
              for beauty and truth
for love and for life

The fields around Arles
              alive with light
the cloisters of St Trophime
              the arches of St Hilaire
the ruins at Ventadorn
              where stone hangs
upon stone
              Mt Segur where the wind
and the rain vie for space
              and Pound’s final
penitent perception
               ‘to be men not destroyers’

John Lyons