My good buddy and regular poetry contributor Son of Sonnet launched his new Locals page last week at https://sonofsonnet.locals.com/. It’s $10 a month for all sorts of goodies—poems, poetry readings, etc. And the price per month drops as more users sign up.
As one of the chosen subscribers, I recommended a topic for a poem: my hilarious little release Péchés d’âge moyen, a short collection of twelve original piano miniatures. Son—as always—delivered the goods.
To be clear, this wasn’t an easy assignment: he had to write a poem based on twelve very short piano pieces that were largely written (initially) as part of an inside joke on the Internet. He consulted me on a few elements of the poem, including the cover art, an original painting of mine called “Apple Picking.”
With that, I give you—reprinted with permission from the poet—“The Sins of Middle Age” (originally published at https://sonofsonnet.locals.com/ on Wednesday, 16 March 2022):
The Sins of Middle Age
By Son of Sonnet
Prompt by Tyler Cook
An apple picked by hand,
Which twinkles in the eyes,
Contains the life that spans
Until the holder dies.
This man, he dreams of blessed lands:
Of times in which he wished to be.
The essence of the desert sands
Were all he saw among the trees.
He wrote of what he yearned on paper scraps,
But always was he stuck in fantasy.
Collections of his paper turned to maps
Of his evolving grand theocracy.
The Portly Politico 
Brilliant poem, SoS. Very deep, very existential.
I wonder whether, at some point in the future, we might see a little performance poetry, with Tyler providing an instrumental in the background? The odd note, here or there, can be poetry enough. 🙂
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I actually did that once in college—my Sociology 101 professor had us share talents on Friday mornings, and I collaborated with a poet and noodled jazzy saxophone behind him while he recited his piece. It was fun. Maybe I could noodle out some dreamlike saxophone bits for Son… just as soon as I get my saxophone repaired!
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It all depends what he writes, mate. I’ve always associated sax with cheesy romance flicks or crappy sex scenes. Something like the above needs a soft touch on the piano, maybe one or two notes at the right time.
On that point, I tried to write a sex scene in one of my stories. I don’t care how good you are as a writer, sex scenes always seem to appear bad. As a creative writing test, I’m going to write it again but in the negative space and see if it’s possible to write one without it sounding stupid.
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You haven’t heard me play sax, dude. Zero cheese. I’m a jazz and rock ‘n’ roll saxophonist. I could certainly do a soft touch on the piano; indeed, Son’s poet is based on _my_ piano music! So that would be fitting.
I didn’t take you for the type to write smut, Ponty. Perhaps The Portly Press could publish your first work of erotica.
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Excellent poem and one worthy of inclusion in any anthology of modern poetry and by that I do not mean the rubbish that passes for poetry in so many instances in these self obsessed times but proper, well written, meaningful verse that is a joy to read.
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I am really hoping that Son will collect his poems and publish a volume or two. Perhaps I should launch The Portly Press to start publishing some of these works.
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No way! I’ll keep that one to myself! 😂😂😂
I didn’t think you’d go for cheesy sax. Too much class! 😀
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