The Man and His Sitar

Alone he sits upon a stone

Beneath the morning star,

And weaves into the languid world

The strum of his sitar.

 

In solemn silence, soothingly

He plays his repertoire,

Which flows as though to only be

For him and his sitar.

 

A simple silhouette he seems,

Known neither near nor far,

Without a home, without a name

Except for his sitar.

 

Yet in a blink he vanishes,

As would a shooting star,

And wafts into a memory-

The man and his sitar.

-EDP

Reviews

[Tyla]

I like how the poem's form has a simple silhouette that compliments the image of the man sitting on the stone.

[Chris]

This way - life can happen in view of your effort...
Chuckling here.

[emipoemi]

....but it's not supposed to be a funny poem....W.o.E?

[Chris]

it isn't the poem that's funny - it's how we deal with it.

[emipoemi]

very apt, I say, very apt.....and sage at that

[H L Rose]

I love the rhythm here, which is perfect for a poem about someone playing an instrument. I also like the image it brings to my mind, of the silhouette of a man with a sitar, against the night sky, vanishing. I feel like I can see it.

[emipoemi]

That's the kind of experience I attempt to create in all my poems. Thanks for reading. I'm glad you enjoyed it.