In between writing new works, this one is first in a series of poems I call, Refreshing Oldies. Each of them taken from my first book, a volume of 100 titles, "Kicking Leaves Barefoot" 2003. This poem is dedicated to the memory of my late wife, who loved the great voice of Luciano Pavarotti .

Sharing Pavarotti

I am hearing the perfect voice on my car radio,
forceful, tender, its tonal enunciation
and lyrical phrasing are flawless.
A voice greater than Caruso. Tucker, McCormick
and Bjorling; surging, youthful, vibrant.

Stunned, I absorbed old words anew, calling
the radio station to be told about a new
Italian tenor under contract with the
Metropolitan Opera in New York City.
The newfound voice is my secret for now,

Later I find her entranced by television, hearing
the golden notes of my new singer reaching
her musical soul, a white handkerchief and
three hundred pounds under a loose fitting suit,
a giant operatic tenor of romantic arias.

On the sofa she joins me in mutual rapture, and
perfection in an acclaimed heart-voice.
The best tenor of our time's final note, and
she turns to say that his gift captures
her heart, confirming our sharing Pavarotti.


2003-2007 F William Broome