Like an art fastening to the air,
Dexterous machinery as the harp
Slices at his heart, she smiles and lifts
The scene to something magical and out
Of either of their hands. She played
Like a jesuit harlequin, melting scenery
And blending his bones to skin;
Goosebumps in every breath taken
It's just the two of them left in the world
And nothing could take that away.
For a moment time ceased existing,
Their senses lost consitence and all
They knew was to enjoy; player and the guest,
Buyer and the festival, lover and the loved,
Killer and the ******. How he loved to be
Trapped in her tiny beating hands as they sang
A ****-a-doodle-dee, kept peacefully in check
Until the morning through the window set
I'll never talk about what it's not, but I'll tell you what it is
It's the jaw harps sound, clear as spring water in open mouths
It's an echo clear in a budding clearing
And clear enjoyment in the crinkling eyes of a crying wish
And as for my old mentor, his name was Kitten Lips
Because he purrrrrred when he performed on it
Tuesday 12 - Closed it out with a true story. Had some fun for an hour in change. GG.
With poets' sinew, the dream I have will be
played like a harp until I wake.
Until the time comes
I hope one day...
the elixir that remains
in my mouth will last
until death comes.
that dances amongst
the beating chambers
of your heart strings,
the harp’s tune;
their staff to
Poem about a girl I dated who could sing.
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
Liquid silk drips from my fingers
My thirty eager fingers
Playing thirty eager chords
on my white and sprawling harp
Plucking at the strings
Like threads fine
silver and white
(it is night)
It is night and the world is dark
but for glimmering on my harp a single light
lamp like spotlight, hot overhead
i stretch my toes where they balance me on the ropes
sitting by cold glass
i watch the word go by
with my eight beady eyes
and wait for that promising fly
(it is night)
It is night and the word is still
but for my fingers plucking at the strings
of a heart-harp-home, contrast to my dark-clothed figure
silhouetted in the windowsill where i have a woven a tiny, quiet song
do you see me? ive been there for a while
The symptom of an income
Bank accounts and whereabouts
A deadly game we play
Forever young and steady
Regardless of the say
Can we talk tomorrow
It's better just that way
What goes on in your glowing head
when you sit in front of your harp
eyes wide shut your fingers thread
and pluck, syncing with our heart
the way you majestically play
fills my ears with angelic tones
stunned, I can't look away
from your heavenly flowing bones
Harp forged from Hephaestus' gold
pluck and pick easy as a river's flow
soft harmonies of Philip Glass enfold
and just for a moment, forgotten woes
Wedding bells in mind
Play the harp with all her heart
Watched a video of a woman playing beautifully on the harp.
A heart shaped harp.
Sits in the room.
Mirrors displaying each side of the harp, on each side of the heart.
The darkness fell on one side.
The light on the other.
As my heartstrings sowed hands of silk and thorns.
As I play the harp in the quiet room,
The light formed flowers,
The darkness formed thorns.
But all in all.
It made me.
It all adds up to a perfect plan.
To a beautiful flower it blooms.
So the darkness and pain played a part and so did the gloom.
All happens for a reason! All played a part and it's okay if you are messed up! God still loves you! And he is here to help!