Ponte Vecchio…
With a bilious splendour,
The reflective olive green Arno lurks in shade,
Slinking from yonder sunlit blue flow,
In the lee of the manic Ponte Vecchio,
A magnet spanning the river,
Attracting a disorder of dishevelled iron filings,
Or innumerable buildings blustered around the bridge
By gale, squall, or typhoon,
Held still, in a clutter, tight, yet disarranged…
Chaotic, a hotchpotch,
Box upon box,
Muddled, not aesthetic,
Claustrophobic, yet estranged,
A profusion of empty windows
On copious, scissored cardboard models,
Befuddled, yet mesmeric…
And with a nauseous beauty,
The reflective olive green Arno peddles in shade…
But this complex mirrored image by a blade is slashed
And a buttress falls axe-like to ensure serenity is smashed…
Pete Ray
Scene of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, September, 2013…
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