Cloth cap on his head
and at his feet another
for coins, he stands firm,
defiant; his thin music
pierces the shrieking
din of the nearby work-site –
shrill, yet quite forlorn. 


4 thoughts on “Whistle-blower

  1. makes me think of a black trumpet player outside Union Station a couple of springs ago….he was superb, and I put whatever I had in my pocket into the cap. too bad he wasn’t selling a CD! RT

    • Wellington is a city of buskers; we have our share of Suzuki students, rogue tromboners and would-be channellers of Jimi H … and we have our regulars, including the gnome-like John, who with considerable skill plays the sopranino recorder (very shrill) with earplugs in his ears. But the white-bearded and cloth-capped subject of my poem is new to me.

  2. Pingback: Whistle-blower is a street preacher « cross-ties

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