I Hear Guitars a' Calling

Written by: Terry O'Leary

I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling When sinking suns relay their flames to fairies on the wing Igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze As day becomes a yawning ash beneath a starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling from the clouds within the skies, With tunes which flow as purple drops from sad and weepy eyes Of silent speaking troubled souls who stand alone in grief, But hold the vastness of the stars within a trembling leaf. I hear guitars a’ calling from the beat beneath her breast, The murmur throbs of passion and a sensuous unrest That rumbles deep in silent woods before the raging storm And splits the air in morning meadows bursting green with corn. I hear guitars a’ calling in the gentle splashing rain, Which summons with a soothing purr upon my window pane And conjures up a childhood dream within a vagrant breeze Entwining me in cryptic webs of misty vortices. I hear guitars a’ calling from the waves on distant shores; They’re crashing out their monody upon the mystic oars Of phantom ships within the dawn and midnight caravels, A’ sail on seas of raven wings to moonlit citadels. I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles; They’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas, While waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze, And closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling from the deserts of my mind; They’re howling of a hollow land adrift on empty time Where pathless sands are blazing hot, the sun is standing high, A thirsting dog is barking faint’ with tongue that’s long and dry.