Best Harmonicas Poems

London

The tour of London begins
 In the streets of my mind,
  Through past and present
   Intrinsically entwined,
    Through people and places
     It's heart we will find,
      Through fellow travellers
 ...

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Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to...

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When cowboys sprawl 'round the camp fire after the days work is done,
They strum guitars and tootle harmonicas and sing to have fun.
Real cowboys don't sing Honky-Tonk or She Done Me Wrong stuff.
They leave that to rhinestone cowboys, considerin' it to be so much fluff!

Real...

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Begin by swinging from chandeliers when home
Wear matching multicolored harlequin costumes
Equip yourselves with harmonicas and bazookas
Keep lubricants and trampolines near by for safety

Practice lunar landings in your room to
Resume your activities in the great outdoors

Do sex outside in a car when retired
Bring a partner and...

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Do it without trying
Begin by swinging from chandeliers when home
Wear matching multicolored harlequin costumes
Equip yourselves with harmonicas and bazookas
Keep lubricants and trampolines near by for safety
Practice lunar landings in your room

Resume your activities in the great outdoors
Do sex in a car when speeding
Bring a partner...

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Memories of childhood.



I weep hidden among the shadows of my stained glass window.
I long for the scent of magnolis when the wind blows.
Sunrise over plantations casting shadows,
under the old oak trees,
with dangling moss, as the winds toss,
the echoes of children's voices through the air.
Dream! Do...

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4% mnm
Mountainous syllables can never really tread lightly across a rope bridge. But living in a cabbage house is fantastic fun for many leaves make many rooms and many rooms make much rubbish. Don't trip over the staircases. Nor the bins. Nor the fireplaces. Be...

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2 Dollar's of Whiskey Bourbon 
My sweet Jubilee, 
To toast

My throat is drier 
Than Country Music Heartache
And tired double bass
In downtown New Orleans's 

Backwater Blues 
Scratching Cotton field tune's 
Backed by Harmonicas and Flutes 

Rag Time,
Swing Time
Jazz Time
Line Dancing

Play that Banjo Boy
Like its the 4th...

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It was long ago,
Whilst I was still going to college,
Way back during the dawn of mankind,
Still living with my first wife, with my parents,
And my beloved mutt-dog, Rippy...
A smallish, black dog,
Long a part of the family,
He loved cheese, like all Bells,
And hated harmonicas, I guess,
As...

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4% mnm
Mountainous syllables can never really tread lightly across a rope bridge. But living in a cabbage house is fantastic fun for many leaves make many rooms and many rooms make much rubbish. Don't trip over the staircases. Nor the bins. Nor the fireplaces. Be...

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It’s Thursday evening, almost nine
foot-tap, fiddle, and banjo time
with juke-box tales of love’s romance
the county jail, a second chance
for bourbon belles or backroad trucks
mail-box motels, living on luck
from one horse towns to city bars
acoustic sounds that drive guitars
harmonicas with prairie dust
Americana, steel mill rust
cornbread kitchen,...

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In love we trust

Limitless passion and joy
Overwhelms our senses
Violins and harmonicas singing
Endlessly we hum our song

You forgot about the time
Our attentions riveted to each other
Undying in its fervor...

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Blood upon the keyboards
harmonicas in flight
Chasing notes across the score
horns that greet the night

Eighty eight’s to hemorrhage
reeds that bend and break
Music dying then reborn
—trumpeting our fate

(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)...

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Our holiday was musical
(The food was yummy, too)
Because our grandkids each received
A shiny new kazoo.

To add to the festivities,
Another gift revealed
Harmonicas, which both of them
Did very proudly wield.

With latkes, dreidels, presents and,
Of course, the candles lit,
Our Chanukah was lovely and
My cookies were a hit.

We won’t...

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Empty streets,
Naked trees,
Flowers,
Sighing,
In rhe chill autumn breeze,
With some gypsy ladies,
Dancing a salsa dance,
In a field of sunfliowers,
Surreal waves,
With windswept kisses,
Empty canvases,
And benches,
Waiting to be filled,
With hues and innovative styles,
A hymn hummed in a mango vineyard,
By an enchanting lady,
Tambourines and harmonicas,
Filling the cafes,
Miracle of beauty,
Miracle of...

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