Friday, December 16, 2011

SONG FROM MY SOUL

This violin is my pen, I am the player.
I use this tune to ink teary words.
I peel my haunted soul – each layer–
As I make my song on these chords.

See not my tears as salt waters–
They are are but rivers of seasoned grief.
They flow for me, for sons and daughters:
Silent but pregnant with unbirthed grief.

I have seen thirst standing in the river;
Hungry I've been, standing in the barn.
Where some have smiled, there I quiver;
Orphan I am, I look for my father's arm.

I slow no tune to make you somnolent-
But my voice shall tear down walls.
I am knight. I string my lance, my instrument:
Listen, a troubled soul, helpless, calls.

2 comments:

  1. tHIS is a wonderful poem...I like the picture more, it tells more words than you can imagine...
    Can't say more or I might make this beauty sore :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sueddie, even your poetry nature appeared in your comment here.. you had to rhyme MORE and SORE...was it deliberate?

    thanks you sire

    ReplyDelete

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