"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Thursday, April 30, 2020

R.E. Slater - The Maestro







The Maestro
by R.E. Slater


I went to the barber to have my blonde hair lopped off,
he uses scissors, not clippers, asking how much?

I say short! Short enough to last two months!
He nods with a humph, snip-snipping away.

Shortly, swiveling me about, facing a mirror,
I see it wasn't enough and ask for shorter.

Now barbers may comply, but stylists do not,
stylists, especially, like hair longer not shorter.

Trade being what it is most barbers will agree,
if too short, no business, snip-snipping, snip-snip.

A few hairs at a time, not too many nor too much,
My pockets emptying as we spar with each other.

Snip-snip, snip-snip, each hair falls, clip, clip, clip,
the barber works 'round my head crying, “Done!”

“Look in the mirror! You couldn't ask for better!"
I do, seeing again, how desperate the strokes.

Do I ask a third time, to cut my hair shorter?
Risk a grumbling barber? Daring his ire?

Every time we meet we amiably chat. But he
knows, as I know, what the other one wants.

Not two months, I think, maybe one, looking,
till woes and wits are bantered again foul or fair.

Delighting chirping clientele, listening, snickering,
waiting their turn at the chair with grand Maestro.

Ah me! Think I, should I question the great Artiste?
My dear friend who takes such great pride in his work?

Or do I chance a third round with less results?
“Its Grand!” says I, paying coveted shekels.

Thinking, never have I met a barber
who is poorer, more clever, than I.


R.E. Slater
April 30, 2020

*Dedicated to my dear friend Jim,
ever ready to serve and befriend


@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved



No comments:

Post a Comment