He knew her;
hands had polished
fingers handled frets
heard her song
to depths of his bones
leaned against her
like lover’s want
need pressing bow
pushing and pulling at her
until her heart spilled out
what he drank in with eyes and ears
sunshine in his eyes,
he tracked the score
sung to clouds scuttling over horizon
while she un-gutted her secrets
when he could no longer
hold bow nor tighten tune
to her voice
he slept with her
like an old man sleeps with his old wife
cradled into each other
and let bones speak
their membered music
Author notes
I choose # 3 picture prompt
In a list
A contest entry
- Black and White Images by silverscent.
525 points, ended October 7, 2008, 23 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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You went exactly to the place my heart went when I saw the pic. There is no instrument more soulful than the cello.
No poet more than you -
"he slept with her
like an old man sleeps with his old wife"
I loved that line. This was beautiful, and very fitting. -
very clean, sensual, a perfect poem for the image. Good luck in the contest
Love, Lane
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This is wonderful. You're writing is not something I come across often, it's strange and flowingly poetic. I love it..
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My God, you are such an incredible writer, my Sister.
I feel your words as though they were my own ~
deep in my bones, sacred in my marrow.
Magnificent. Bookmarked. Always ever in awe of your gifts.
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I wish someone knew me this well. Tender... loving, cradled into one another and let bones speak their membered music! Excellent!
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