Discovered in its case
Strapped to his drowned body
The violin he played
Aboard the Titanic
Salt water that flooded
Into straining lungs
Had no time to destroy
This well-built instrument
And even though the bridge
Looked unusually frail
When correctly tensioned
The strings still sang sweetly
Mozart, Handel, Schuman
Haydn, Paganini
Old favourites, hymn tunes
Nearer My God To Thee
Too sad to be endured
The fiddle was condemned
To decades of silence
In a dusty attic
Brought out again at last
On show for a few days
Then sold at auction for
Nine hundred thousand pounds
The violin he played
Aboard the Titanic.
© David Subacchi
David Subacchi was born in Wales of Italian roots. He is a well known poet in the UK especially in Wales and the North West of England. His English language collection ‘First Cut’ was published by Cestrian Press in 2012.
