"dulcimer" poems
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
3.4k
Her touch, a crescendo, our bodies harmonizing, sound journey.
Heartstrings vibrating in tune, passion bringing, sound journey.
Empty concert hall, without her, echoes in the void.
Mind's dulcimer weaves memories, drifting, sound journey.
Like two violins our bodies now begin a sweet duet.
Our passion a crescendo forever building, sound journey
Fingers tracing landscapes of desire, soft curves exploring.
Our breath, a soft flute, seeks the hidden embers burning, sound journey
Her body a living instrument, vibrations of pure sound.
Powerless, I must follow the maestro's commanding, sound journey
Like a master perfumer, our love's fragrance ages gracefully.
Chords of vintage cello bowing passion, resonating, sound journey
Her lips, a harp's lush glissando, heartbeats suspended.
A honeyed kiss, notes lingering; in silence orchestrating, sound journey
On celestial strings; notes drift in the cosmos; starlight whispers.
Our souls forever stardust on windstrings, meditating, sound journey.
In Gaia's Soothing Haven, our hearts forever on love’s journey.
Notes of desire linger softly, sonnets drift on our sighs.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 5:59 PM UTC
I have drempt:
Lucidly, she dyes the edges clay-colored
Eyeing eye she aligns her body with the North Star
She shivers without notice
Ocher eyes alive
she speaks in new forms of divination
And the weather is in her palm
Trick of light trick of eye
Her sigh awakens 9 Ravens
without thought
She is
Caught in the spider web
Spun
Autumnal ghost
Beneath Harvest moon
swoons at the bark of the dire wolf
Without care
making eye contact
Running fingers through the silver fur
Paying close attention to scars
Letting him drink
From lips of pink
The milk of first-kiss
And leads him home
To a palace of bone
Humming tunes that only dogs know
Her head is light on his chest
She listens to his heart beat
Beating Eagles wing
In time
In rhyme
A tune
Of runes
Smooth Aquarius
Flowing through the toes
Of purple mountains
Spilling waterfalls and
Filling frigid
Black pools rimmed
By moss caked stone
Leaves scarlet, and hay colored
Float aimlessly on the surface of her
Peaked
Ears Stung and bit of wind
She listens whole body tensed
bow string
face Sun stained
ethereal
Enamored
swimming in the aphotic
Lake of his soul
He plays the dulcimer of shadow
Next to fire
& the light of her blossom
exposing
Waterfall
flow
Through snow mountains
Piqued
His attention
When she dances languid
To
Forgetten tunes that only the owl knows
****
she dances star soaked
Scarlet tulips pressed
Fill every page of her mind
Preserved eternal
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
The castle songs, they drift tonight,
From Spain to the heights of Palmyra,
They ride the waves beneath moonlight,
Spinning sounds of dulcimer and lyre.
From where do you call, angel of the night,
From what castle, do you, my heart, inspire,
From the depths of my mind, your smile bright,
Stirs the embers of my desire.
So I send this poem, a voice in the wind,
To the angel of the night, I sing,
To a heart as parched as the desert sand,
True love, your kiss will bring.
Like the castle that rules that dusty slope,
O'er Palmyra's arid plain,
I'll wait from this hill with endless hope,
Till my desert's quenched with rain.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
I strike a hot match against those Front-Porch-Sitting-Mowing Freaks who live across the street.
I'm out there every morning;
Afternoons, too,
My grass stands tall,
And my fingers dance lightly across my dulcimer.
I'm strumming 'Wildwood Flower', mistakes and all.
I get serious with 'Whiskey Before Breakfast', not well done.
But then I break out with 'Cripple Creek.'
And who can fault me for that one?
It's a happy tune, done well, or poorly.
Those **** neighbors sit across the way.
They don't even bother to stare.
Something has changed.
There is still no sparkle in their eyes,
But I am happy.
It isn't my job to entertain the world.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Dulcimer...
play me a song
'bout all the wrongs
that I have done.
Sweet Dulcimer...
in your strings and swirly grains
lie my life's story
and the way my river runs.
Ol' Lucifer...
leave me alone
for it's a long, hard road
that I have gone.
My darlin' fair...
in your sweet and lovely face
I see longing... I see despair
I see sorrow and despair.
Somewhere in the misty moonlight
I hear her music play
Sweet Dulcimer
take me home.
Sweet Dulcimer...take me away.
February 2013
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
My dreams are made of rusted platinum
dried shut under the light of your eyes.
At least in day break
these tongued tones
will tug more tenderly
on the touch tone tendons of your torn heart.
I'll wrap the veins of my beating heart across the moon
and strum songs on the wax taught dulcimer
wrote them wet and ruby just for you.
I remember how you said you didn't trust the sun
and so I swallowed it whole to make you feel safe.
The burning pit in my gut that pushes me forward
is from you.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:42 AM UTC
Why?
The burns fade in,
Deep,
Forming scars under the skin.
Scars so bold they burst,
A cacophany of shrill screams scratch softly,
Ever so softly,
At the thin skin of my inner dulcimer.
"Why?" he shouts,
"When the fire is set and the ashes,
That dark grey matter of life itself consoled,
Congeled,
Converged,
Are spread,
You do not rummage through the spoils of the spill!"
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 3:21 PM UTC
She opines a parable of the heart of Appalachia , wooden instrument , with goose quill adding song to the immense beauty of this great land , familiar as the cry of whippoorwills at dusk is the dulcimer ,
captivating , raw emotional purveyor of mountain folklore ........
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
When my pillow is drenched with tears, my mind filled with fear.
She still avails herself to me
Even when their cruelty ****** me,
she gently dresses my wounds.
When I can't sleep at night,
she is my dulcimer lullaby
Even when my teeth's peak,
when my cheecks lift,
when my heart jumps so high
And when my eyes gleam so bright.
She still avails herself to me
She connects so well with ears,
wipes my tears,erase my fears
She is my music!
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 1:11 AM UTC
I
-dulcimer clatter opens the sun, first fruit-
timber fathoms/crystal veils
on all steps, crossing all human borders
untethering wood
from forest, until only the green element remains
to purify the soul
an alpine afterimage, shadow-display
(creature of Earth, moss-backed & yowling thru the chaotic sleep
of October, you see it's symbology in your tea, sharpening its
obsidian hands against the seastones,
imprinting loveliness into the rock, to be worn by tides,
replaced by death absolute)
The fabled Black Horse (shadow-self) waiting solitary at a
gas station, an imprisoned dreamer inside
its gaping jaw/saturnine, coldness
of daybreak, clouds at their Atelier, my head
feels a pressure, been awake too long,
breathing in through the nose/out through
mouth, monastery of the mind in need of clearing.
II
Soft/soft/skin/fury
embrace, catharsis, collision of
two individual energies
pent-up and cast/release
like a skeleton net::onfire
(kissed, consumed
elated, recurrance)
closeted eternities
cycling back into the
wind (hanging willow)
calling to the seeker, gold,
purification & lightness/mouthcurl washed in silence
(your own body, rising tide)
welcomed crucible of chilling air
& my black and
white vessel,
electricity spirit-
whispers
“valley swimmer, elude me”
FLASH OF LIGHT
III
…. The widewaking world
unspun-
theatric elucidation,
emergence of a great snake
a wisened flower, sprouted from exile
blissful rejuvination of
the ivory leaves, at once!
I wrap my throat in a Munich scarf
(pattern-blue)
walking upon the softness of
Grötzingen (angel's eyes speaking)
an orchard, where the last gardener's tireless
work lay like a dreaming ossuary
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
a day flies by and whiles away
drawing lies and smiles alike
like filings to the lodestone
babies' cries flay the sky
sunlight bright in my right eye
shining in dulcimer tone
in this park no broken tiles
just mild breezes, soft sighs, and ample time
to delight in Spring coming into its own
a wild-eyed man asks why we try
and rightly plies for answers nigh
and questions what we think is known
and waits impatient as we fry
in blind stupor as our minds belie
that we might in fact be all alone
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
I'm in love with a dulcimer,
she feels good in my hands,
I finger her strings
& she loves me back
with her sweet melody.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
they took her to the doleful traitor’s gate,
where none could save her life or bring release,
along the river to a heavy fate,
no harp or dulcimer to give her peace.
the world had turned away, the tudor rose
in ruins at her feet, the fickle king,
inconstant, needing sons, the river flows
with royal blood where sorrow’s angels sing.
“to jesus i commend my soul,” she cried,
she wore damask, her mantle was ermine,
poor cramer heard the cannon as she died,
he fell and wept, forgave her every sin.
the strings were broken on the violin,
that sang no more for laughing anne boleyn.
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 4:33 PM UTC