Please Scroll Down For Fresh Mind

The Harp & Violin

 

Years of night and day,

creek eroding, widening the earth,

singing growth to verdant greens.

Liquid of life flows, quenches thirsty lands.

Roots burrow moistening tongues, replenishing leaves.

Hungry plants strengthen -- can sway to nature's breath

and mimic their dark silhouettes.

 

The harp and violin share

sweet melodies of plucks and strokes

among sleeping serenity. The moon shines

down on vibrant strings. Tones of partial gold lead

stars, twinkling a dance to the enchanting voice,

the singing crafted wood.

 

Tightly drawn horsehair of the rhythmic bow rubs,

to and fro along with pinches

upon the plain fingerboard, creating a calm river --

soothing lullaby of life. Peaceful fluttering plucks

blend into shallowed resonating fibres, like falling drops

during rested swan's early morning bath.

 

The day sun, shining high through fresh winds,

caressing ethereal touch upon the river waters.

The harp and violin play tribute to the gayety of midday.

Flesh plucks speed across tight strings, jealous

violin loses bow; pizzicato solo.

Glaring day's water,

enwrapping warm air,

splendor plants and trees,

share the celebration of life under the blue sky.

~~~~~~~

 

Fresh Mind

 

Eyelids slowly part and open,

sleepy eyes blur, veiled by the sunlight.

New day warmly wraps my vision,

fresh mind awakes, thinking young and bright.

 

Warm thoughts first rush inside my brain,

often linked with emotions of love.

These feelings wash my heart from pain,

almost like the sweet soar of a dove.

 

Cold thoughts follow along this trail,

then lurk within waiting for their chance.

Sadness arrives when warm ones wail,

and complain of my horrors they dance.

 

Mental strain of a crystal mind;

longing gradually drains my nerve.

Afraid my sad tears will entwine,

I bargain with my spirit's reserve.

 

As the day ticks with chilling facts,

suddenly I read sweet words that blind;

break my sadness and it's contacts,

I shed tears of joy through a fresh mind.

 

© Copyright 2000 Kenneth JP Drysdale
Published in Write On's Poetry Magazette

 

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