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The harpist’s fingers grazed gut strings
like spelunkers mapping caverns—
each pluck a stalactite dripping resonance
into the concert hall’s velvet throat.
Each pluck releases trapped ancestral light,
burnished sparks dissolving in the air
as notes cascade—not melody, but prayer
unfurling from the reverent dark.
Delicate hands sweep over the strings
Stirring chords and melodies meet,
The harpist gently plunks and pings
Producing music soft and sweet.
She does not smile, concentrating
On the nuances of each crescendo,
Tenor of the performance elevating
Each measure a startling innuendo.
The climax brings a stirring rush
Exhilarating orchestral responses
As over the audience falls a hush
The music its hearers ensconces.
Written July 16, 2022
By chance I watched a wonderful harpist play
Karolyn is her name and she always makes my day
Every other Sunday she’s at my favorite coffee shop
She’s so good I watch her till she has to stop
She plays many of my favorite songs
Which inspires me to sing some of my favorite sing-a-longs
I enjoy Sunday afternoons when I can watch her play
For her work is therapy for me and like a musical ballet.”l
As if she stretched
both sides of her smile
in pizzicato,
then lets go...
Each note ascends,
circles her head
like a halo.
Cascading strings
send shivers through clouds.
‘Nine’ giggles —
the proverbial
cumulus-
humulus.
The harpist angel
weaves her fingers
in ancient frolic.
The instrument,
rocks like a baby
in her mother’s arms,
with wings upright.
Tight like friends,
bound to serve,
their souls are one.
The shalom of
solitude
and harmony,
sympathetic
vibrations,
and God’s love.
4/13/2021
Anacreontic Verse
Sponsor: Silent One
Each line 3-5 syllables
29 lines
She plucks her harp with passion seen,
A passion, passion, passion seen.
Her face, as summers had once been.
Her face warm thaws a freeze.
Now climates changing seasons tease,
The seasons, seasons, seasons tease.
Yet she with passion plays with ease.
Yet she plays, sharing joy!
Her lilting music, calming ploy,
A calming, calming, calming ploy.
Every note doth the cold destroy!
Every season well played.
Her spring, new life, a future swayed,
A future, future, future swayed!
The way it was then gone, delayed.
The way now, danger waits!
Her summer score, song, dancing fetes,
O dancing, dancing, dancing, fetes!
Kids holidays, all that relates.
Kids holidays, such fun!
Her autumn music does not shun,
It does not, does not, does not shun!
Naked trees or hibernation.
Naked, quiet, nowt stirs.
Winter, her music weeping tears.
She's weeping, weeping, weeping tears.
Her harp playing belies her fears.
Her hand succumbs, now froze!
She plucks her harp with passion, seen!
Her hands succumb, now froze!
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4/14/18
New Poems Only - Poetry Contest, sponsored by Emile Pinet
harpist gold ringlets encircle her face plucking silver strings
1/2/2018
Silent One/Monoku: Colours
Ethereal harpist
my soul you caress
infusing my tune
with a sweet happiness.
Gently you pluck
at the strings of my heart
giving my song
a new meaningful part.
I seek you in darkness
beyond what is real
and cling to the ways
your soft touch makes me feel.
I hold to you tightly
and wait for the night
where fantasy reigns
over all that is right.
I dream of the comfortable
warmth of your arms
enchanted by trinkets
of heartwarming charms.
Words on a page
cutting right to my soul
filling my emptiness
making me whole.
Each of your words
like a soft gentle kiss
remind me of life's
simple pleasures I miss
In such sweet surrender
with you I could live
for you know not to take
till I'm begging to give.
Ethereal harpist
caressing my soul
playing my heart
to the measure of whole
A lifetime of emptiness
left for to deem
to wake up and find
you are only a dream.
-Jeannie Cronin
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