Best Horn Poems
He assembled in darkness the corroded horn
by familiarity and sense of touch.
Then cast as thunder into the empty night
long tones void of musical melody.
Sustained tones, fierce and woeful
in succession paraded the street.
Each note precisely chosen, unfurled
and carried aloft in chilly air.
The flickering street lamp understood
as long shadows on a cobbled walk
slow danced in the warming glow.
But the music was not for them tonight.
The musician’s voice transformed
and angry staccato flares broke.
Chop, chop and chop on the mighty tree!
He watched it fall dead against unfeeling brick.
Snapping of limbs and morality
but the tree was just a thug anyway.
Indignant “Quiet downs!”
rained from high-rise windows
mingling in the blood of the fallen;
and tears…so few tears.
Still, the music wasn’t for them tonight.
Yet they could not escape the song,
that guileless voice in the darkness,
which once again transformed.
Weeping heaves bellowed through aged-brass
amplifying every tremble of the lip.
Pitiful notes, harsh on either end
and broken by uneven vibrato,
yet piercing in their rawness,
turned away the wrathful storm.
Tremulous begging it seemed,
accompanied a hopeful plea for dawn,
which lulled to sleep the very stars above.
The moon halted to listen as well,
before tucking itself in, cathartic,
as the pitiful busker concluded his song
of remorse for un-lived dreams
and unspoken things
The music wasn't for them tonight.
10/18/15
In a chariot of fire in the sun
blew a pale horse and pale rider’s last breath,
and on your grave sings a boding raven
in the shadows of the valley of death.
Where no graven image rise from its bones,
only a cold wormwood wind on death row
pipes through the rushes beyond the tombstones
where time cut short above stood still below.
But far more does sound a haunting in me
as if your faint voice my ear passing through -
and I trapped betwixt next world and earthly
sit this day communing with God and you.
Yet I fear death itself I shall not mourn
when diviners blow its fiery flamed horn.
Written: July 1995
Christmas Yule Tide Horn Haiku
what a dearth of mirth
welcome Jesus and His birth
beyond all worth on earth
saw star in the skies
by three men who had been wise
met with much surprise
much to our delight
brought star did show in the night
Jesus brought much light
waited for a while
then saw Jesus with His smile
one day was on trial
on Jesus relied
who on cross was crucified
felt sorry inside
was such a great loss
Jesus dying on the cross
we would turn and toss
we had grieved and grieved
by God His Son was received
are greatly relieved.
Homeless with Those We Miss
we have the homeless
along with the loneliness
died and them will miss
Jim Horn
Through whispers that furrow the silence, the cursing horn sounds,
Over plains of shadow the dusk of night descends all around.
Hyperion of night glows with embers beneath lids of silver light,
In silence watches over sparse poplars, caressed by the moon's delight.
Dreaming of the scent from deep, dark woods, on the lake's mysterious wave,
Begging for comfort from the stars that weep in the realm of the forgotten, their enclave.
Thirsting to trace hurried steps, to journey beneath the starry sphere,
While the rhythm of seasons softly ticks, like a clock in the night drawing near.
Linden flowers shatter over celestial metaphors that echo in night's thrall,
From the glittering dawn to the borders of dark eternities, overarching all.
Through the centuries, as legatees on Earth, his steps will remain unswayed,
Like a gold coin rimmed by fate's bright light, ever vibrant, always unstayed.
Lord of the stars, a young noble robed in romances of elation,
With night's locks cascading, the forest patrols in hushed revelation.
Like a sage of silence, tethered to solitude with ancient ties,
Treading paths that angels step, in the crickets' twilight symphony, the bird descends and flies.
With eyes that embody the infinite, thoughts nobly uplifted in cosmic sprawl,
He reclines on the forehead of time immortal, a monarch in high-walled hall.
You've poured magic through the gates of ether, unlocking the most treasured enigma, cast,
In the celestial chamber you unwittingly sign your name, on scattered parchment, on a constellation vast.
Apollo of oblivion, from your searing, touch-me-not zodiacal trace,
You spin the stars like a rosary, forever set as their vigilant grace.
when we cut and paste
even if we made much haste
will not have any waste
when where what why who
we only needed a few
which we know will do
with eight different words
which will start with w
My other favorite word
which I will like is wonderful.
Can you imagine when we would
remove letter w from our alphabet.
we look with him here
pitiful and very sad
latest news stay tuned
A captive of your ontology,
a tiger in a cage
Doomed to look with borrowed eyes,
your life played out on stage
You pace the floor incessant,
as anger builds within
And hear the distance calling,
feeling trapped, an alien
Will that trumpet ever reach you,
by whose Archangel you’re reborn
Will redemption come to free you
—if Saint Gabriel blows his horn
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Written By: D. Collins 6/14/24
There's nothing better than a trumpet, trombone, and sax.
Screaming out tight tones on full blast.
Synched and tuned to make our hair stand up.
Cracking all glass products around the club.
Then, a sweet-talking flute comes in underneath.
Followed by a little Lee Oscar, the harmonic beast.
Damn!!! That would sound good. Music to my ears.
The soul-stirring sound that'll bring a man to tears..........
Haiku was by Horn
Soon again will be re-born
Night or early morn.
Want to inspire
Give God my whole entire
Set world on fire.
Bring best out in you
By letting God always do
Make your dreams come true.
Am starting to see
When so sinful I may be
God shall set me free.
Religion receive
And no longer will I grieve
When in God believe.
New end now in sight
When I will pray every night;
Have found much delight.
In heaven have been,
Finally free from all sin
Amen and Amen.
Jim Horn
I always had Angie Under My Thumb,
one day I heard her honking her car horn.
What had she just done with her anger,
my candy apple red vette she did Paint It Black.
She was yelling back at me,
You Can't Always Get What You Want.
Now I will Tumblin Dice for release,
my new car is a big mess.
Her blue Mustang car playing The Rolling Stones,
a car of Wild Horses sped off in a flash.
No more Honky Tonk Women for me,
guess I will go back to my old friend Ruby Tuesday.
Jazz Horn
Now put your left foot forward.
Next put your right foot ahead.
See how that works?
See how the workings of these two appendages
Facilitates the outcome
Of one continuous forward motion
To where you’re going … in this world?
Welcome, my friend,
To this deliciously dark dish of desperate cravings!
Look all around you as we walk this stalking street.
See all the dark places.
Where countless lost souls huddle in bare survival,
And share the hot knob over a weak fire.
I can hear a jazz horn, way off in the distance there.
It’s surely there, and it reassures me I’m still living, here.
Maybe some words by Langston Hughes might be nice right now.
Please, my friend, do me the honor.
Oh, I see. You don’t have your poetry anthology.
And it’s dark too.
Let us then visit the old pawnbroker
Mr. Tattoo Neck knows the price for our private fears.
Piss puddles and crushed beer cans.
And an old used tire hanging hopelessly
By the cracked front window.
I see the world is one inch closer to doom since last we talked.
May we rest in peace, my friend.
Any murders lately on the street?
I hear the blond dish in Shire Apartments has moved out.
Black sooty smashed gum and litter of coupons and girlie guides.
Only one killing this week, my friend.
The butcher from 27th street; the guy who never talked to anyone.
His bowling ball is in the window.
Life is hard. It knocks you on the head when you least expect it.
I hope I make it.
I don’t know if some ******* will come in here and shoot me in the face!
I live my whole freaking life scared!
It’s ridiculous that we all have to be hostages to these evil people.
The city grows darker at night.
I have noticed it because I live mostly with the night.
The night is my secret lover, and there is no other.
The city is as dark as nothing in the middle of nowhere.
Something bigger than a final sunset is needed.
You know what I mean, my friend?
Here, I will buy you that jazz horn there.
You can sweetly serenade me,
And lovely night naked,
As we make love here
In the calming mad darkness.
pillar of trumpets
are no match in a garden
for the hummingbird
Pollution Control Horn Haiku
Pollution control
Clean environment for soul
After taking poll.
Form:
Another Gin and Tonic Horn Limerick
Must I drink another gin and tonic
To tolerate Trump who is moronic
Jumping from hole to hole like a rabbit
Constantly complaining when cannot have it
Grows on you like a plague that is bubonic.
Jim Horn
Hey little horn, where are you born?
Hey little horn,
where are you born?
Hey, little unicorn,
do you eat corn?
I'm a narwhal and want a treat
do remember I can't stand too much heat
I am very sweet and clear
and I don't fear
BECAUSE I AM A NARWHAL the great
Form:
Really Good Rap Song Horn Haiku
There are scores and scores
Of stores that have gone away
Too much have to pay.
When small star twinkles
Will we see all the wrinkles
As each one mingles.
Can you mingle late
Because you did have to wait
And anticipate.
Might mingle later
And prefer percolator
Coffee creator.
When things will percale
We should stand in a circle
Pray for miracle.
This won't want to miss
Really good rap song it is
Can be hers or his.
James Hilarious Thesarious Horn
Bolivia, NC