Poetry is my great love. I scribble my soul down over @ Somewhere a Melody
here is a poem that is featured in my poetry book also called "from allegro"
"from allegro"
The day wanes, I strum broken chord from fret,
Taut strings refract negative space,
hollowed womb waters tremble with birth pains.
Sound rebounds like a glimmer of sunlight, from a fallow field,
greener since the ploughing ceased.
Whispering the world is a bridge, pass over it,
But build no house upon it.
Song shuttles back and forth weaving a one piece tunic,
I touch the hem and am healed.
This music is an old Mongolian woman feeding me soup,
telling me stories, ladeling prayer beads from work worn hands.
Grey armies collect like silt at the mountain brink.
She simply unravels the beams the goat hide and the prayer mat as she always has
and they fall to their knees prostrate.
