Soul of the Strings

For Tempest, the spirit who lives and breathes, but only emerges when the hollowed wood is lifted, and the preferred scale offered to the Ear of the Divine.

Soul of the Strings



Your strings carve their way through hardened fingertips as I flutter my wrist,
Wrenching the anguish from the souls of the sophisticates
My lithe hand curls round the bow with the elegance and precision of a calculated crescendo

The resonance gathers inside your hollow curves, springing from the recesses of my human soul
The scent of rosin drifts like stardust on our wave, thrust into battle by your equine blade

A cascade!
Five hairs break loose in the fray, dancing like serpents as we charm them
We sway and they sway, we yearn and they yearn, we give and we take away

We are the wood stained red, and the strings pulled tight
The bow, piercing through the smoky light
We are the artist caught in the rapture of sound
High on A minor, never leaving the ground

Applause!
Our prize, it has come as they rise, eyes brimming with joy and with pain
On the stage we stand with our weapon in hand
You and I, we are one and the same

Heartless, Tempest, for they are all slain,
And next movement we�ll slay them again

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Hey diddle diddle, this cat on the fiddle is fabulous. just great.

[lori c]

okay maybe i am way off base here, reading too much into this...but here goes...there is a sensuality to this poem. perhaps it is just as it appears, a musician, his instrument, and their inseparableness. but i certainly saw more, a human relationship. mellow, exciting, passionate... loved it.

[Brenda Sue]

Very well written. Beautifully penned. Great job.

[Nicholas Hallows]

In this poem you really tap into the sensual soulful aspect of music and definitely convey the soul of the strings. I really like your descriptions which bring the instrument to life and connect the soul of the player with the soul of the instrument. I was trying to choose a favourite line but I like too many of them. NH