STRINGSA Poem by Bear
Picture by Jean_Paul Avisse
Strings of sinew strung on a craftsman's sweat and tears, Meant to capture the inspirations of youths liberated fears. But proves to be more akin to confinement of a prison cell, For the many hours of practice it demands, thus a living hell. Strings drawn taut to reverberate in appropriate pitch and key, In hopes of creating emotional sounds that sets the soul free. Woven together so as to net and capture the remotest of notes, So that every sound is heard in the full richness that it promotes. Strings that are placed in the hands of student and master both, To give life and meaning to each, forming a bond and mystical oath. They gladly donate the time and dedication to master the skill, To make their instrument speak freely all the emotions they feel. Strings that sing in glorious rapture the bounty of the hearts content, Or cry out in the misery and despair a broken heart has spent. Music made to touch the soul comes to us dancing on the wind, Be it an enemy or is it our one and only life long friend. Bear © 2015 BearAuthor's Note
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Added on July 26, 2015Last Updated on July 26, 2015 Author
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