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Night music
they did not seem to take
the least notice of it
did not seem fit for it
the great harp
that I hear in the garden
after dark
Poèmes sur le thème : harp
Poèmes sur le thème « harp » sur Poets.by.
Vita aquatica
all go by water
talk to the water
desire to get in water
a dress of ten thousand hands
the water received the water
and they made a great deal of joy
this day I left my harp
for a city of herring
Marking time
a song is fatal
the note is as gone as ash after I play it
who having great need
to meet myself at the harp
take for granted that time
is knocking nails
Classical cockerel
In the morning din,
the cock had a harp and violin
played to an inquisitive hen-house end:
to go within.
The day the music died
My song died,
a note gone to ash.
My flageolette got an ague.
My shot harp sat
in a bed of nails.
Interiority complex
For kindness I stumble
and tell not heart but harp,
give the country of my mind
some night notes.
A minstrel’s life
I drink with a seaman,
a half moon and a barber,
play harp for a bit of meat
and send broke thoughts.
Rain
Today the rain
is an aged man
a gray old man
a curious old man
in a music store
Today houses
are strings of a harp
soprano harp strings
bass harp strings
in a music store
The ancient man
strums the harp
with thin long fingers
attentively picking
a weary jingle
a soft jazzy jangle
Joseph Dixon
Who carved this shattered harp on my stone?
I died to you, no doubt. But how many harps and pianos
Wired I and tightened and disentangled for you,
Making them sweet again—with tuning fork or without?
Oh well! A harp leaps out of the ear of a man, you say,
But whence the ear that orders the length of the strings
To a magic of numbers flying before your thought
Through a door that closes against your breathless wonder?
Is there no Ear round the ear of a man, that it senses
Through strings and columns of air the soul of sound?
I thrill as I call it a tuning fork that catches
The waves of mingled music and light from afar,
The antennæ of Thought that listens through utmost space.
The Harp
I HAVE a harp of many strings
But two are enough for me :
One is for love and one for death;
And what would the third one be?
Before I learn another note
I may forget and go,
So while my hand is light and sure
I play on the strings I know.