I am moved by Lady Percy 's expression of love. CLICK HERE - see if you agree.
Otherwise my novels, short stories, verse, family, music, memories, vulgar interests, detestations,
responses, apologies. I hold posts to 300 words* having found less is better than more.
I re-comment on comments and re-re-re-comment on re-re-comments.
* One exception: short stories.

Saturday, 9 April 2016

Une strophe rechauffée

In recycling earlier posts, you have to come up with a good reason. Otherwise folk think you think the stuff's so good it shouldn't be allowed to lie for ever in a shallow grave. None of my verse is that good.

But, hey, I've come up with a reason. My refurbished eyes now read music scores. Those little tadpoles swinging from telephone lines actually mean something. That surely makes this worth a re-run.

The post-op Festival of Light

The eye is clear, its former glum opacity
Has gone – good riddance halo-ed mysteries.
The eye now views a fine geometry
With knife-cut edges at its boundaries.

The lens digests these spectral coloured bands,
It takes advantage of their separate states,
It meets the needs of newer light’s demands,
Responding to the changing brain’s dictates.

And now the book spines say: Just look, read me!
While CD cases shout orchestral chords.
Under the influence of clarity
The patient thrills to unforeseen rewards

I saw but barely, swayed by ignorance.
Cleverer now, I dance the photons' dance.

Thanks to Mr J. Deutsch, Anna and the team.
Hereford, November 19, 2014


Roderick Robinson

5 comments:

Avus said...

It certainly reflects your joy at clear vision once more, RR. To have that returned to you must have been wonderful.

Rouchswalwe said...

Oh, very nice. I read it out loud ... musical and delightful!

Roderick Robinson said...

Avus/RW (zS): Thanks for your responses. At the first post-op check-up I passed a copy of the sonnet to the surgeon (Mr Deutsch) who then passed it on to the nursing team, notably to Anna who held my hand throughout the op. Hand holding is standard procedure, a way of allowing the patient to signal if he or she needs to move in some way. It also acts as a reminder that one is still a member of the human race despite the odd if painless sensations experienced under local anaesthetic while the scalpel is doing the cutting.

At the second op for the other eye Deutsch asked me about poetic developments, remembering me from the dozens of ops he'd subsequently performed (these ops are all over in less than 20 minutes). A tiny moment of recognition.

Lucy said...

That is nice! All crisp and sharp with its short lines and precise words, just like the state it celebrates.

Roderick Robinson said...

Lucy: I was looking to turn the technicalities of the op into the hero.