… or is it a scythe,
the curve like a blade,
for a clean, sharp death
in the moonlight?
No, I think it must
be as it’s called,
a fine instrument –
for a folk song
or a soft ballad:
moonlight and roses
(played with just
a hint of frenzy).
I’m no musician
except in words,
tone-deaf since birth,
yet I crave this
impossible dream,
this sweetly shaped
tune-maker, of so
delicate few strings.
If I could play
a poem on that …
I think it would be
a hymn, or symphony.
It might be enough
that I could then
embrace dying,
perfection attained.
Note: Not in danger of imminent death, I think. But I am 85, so both death and the limits of attainment come closer.
Written for NaPoWriMo 2025, Day Five.
Beautiful poetry! I especially liked these lines:
ReplyDeletethis sweetly shaped
tune-maker, of so
delicate few strings.
Thank you!
DeleteGreat minds think alike, Rosemary! We were both inspired by the guitar shaped like the moon. I love the way you ponder in this poem, start with a question, and continue into the romantic and whimsy – and I love the ‘hint of frenzy’.
ReplyDeleteThe 'hint of frenzy' was one of the terms we were invited to use.
DeleteI very much enjoyed your piece too. Although our poems are very different, it seems our emotional and aesthetic responses to this lovely guitar are similar.