A Poet's Shadow

Coming out from the wall’s core,

from beyond a blind window,

I can hear knotted harp strings

playing a soft tune,

lulling asleep all ages phantoms

brought back to life in the shade.

 

The poet’s eyes are freezing them,

carving everything in stone.

 

Somewhere behind the corner,

in the mists of my eyes,

a revolving door opens

towards the old attic

where the moon keeps turning around

like an old gramophone.

 

Always the same tune...

Reviews

[Emily B]

a haunting melody, to be sure

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

thanks for your comment. I chose harp because it is my favorite musical instrument. I think music is not haunting...for me it is soothing, peaceful, opening clear skies...in fact although I don't have musical gifts I think music is above the other arts, below architecture ---this is only my opinion.

[Emily B]

i didn't mean haunting in a negative way :)

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

indeed you are right, i understand what you mean :) something beautiful, always in our memory

[Emily B]

absolutely