Flute Player Poems - Poems about Flute Player

In the subway, a flute player, at his feet, cents, and dimes. He is young, skinny, large peppery Adam’s apple bobbing, all sharp elbows and pursed lips, an old time preacher channeling Bach, not hell-fire, but more the flame of creation. At a distance, watching him hunched over the notes - too shy to stand in the presence, I interlope; try not to intrude. Is the breath in...

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In the subway, the flute player (cents and dimes at his feet). He is young and thin, all sharp elbows and kissing lips like an old time preacher channeling Bach. Watching him hunch over the notes I can't help thinking if the breath in his lungs comes from God or hunger. Then I wonder if I who hunger after so many things should even ask that question?...

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The girl picked up the flute and played. It sang and sang and sang; Sometimes low like a wild cat’s purr; Sometimes high like a songbird. Sometimes loud like a charging bull; And sometimes quiet like a whisper that dances in your ears....

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You gave the street a tune of flute Taught us a lesson not just the tune Holding the flute you struggle the life You are a teacher taught us life Blindness wasn't a barrier to my life Humming a tune you survive the life Wait a minute you people who run! To offer a value to this...

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Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three, he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday; remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be... by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny. He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut, as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem...

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