or the spoons
but read it accompanied by something
the French horn
the harpsichord
the balalaika at the bus stop
the burping of a favourite uncle
on the runway as passenger planes take off around you
the Saturn V rocket launch was a clanger to the metal munchies
i mean i could go on
but i won't, because going on would be going on
the soul, the guest of the body,
needs nourishment, and calls for a poptart dad;
but i will go on, because this poem, read, as in a reading,
would be good to read out loud, accompanied by or standing alongside
the eruption of Krakatoa
If we'd lived in olden days
days of yore
the golden days
and I were a troubadour
I'd serenade you with my lute
unless I had a flute to toot
or go more than the extra mile
and sing a song to make you smile
not with the end of a lance
would I beg my lady's favour
but gallantly request a dance
mayhaps a carol we could savour
to fight and kill the dragon
and do it all with no fear
I'd pull Excalibur from the stone
for my dear Guinevere
The Lute
This is the time of meanings,
secret codes, suddenly appearing
unexplained. This is a dark time
at the tippling edge of day.
Now I speculate about what I am seeing,
I link it to impossible theories.
.
This is a state we are warned about.
If anyone knew about this,
they would feel the danger.
I know the danger, the fear of it
rumbles in my mind.
Yet it gets more distinct
like the strumming of a lute.
Lute
Lute para
ter pensamentos
de criança
o máximo
que puder
você sempre
terá energia.
Eu tenho sido
bem sucedido
em pensar
como criança
por muitos anos;
nunca descanso,
de fazer sempre
mais e mais.
I lived to find silence,
chasing hither and yon
till morning turned inward
reaching deeply beyond
Now firmly embedded
inside of myself
my eyes turned away
—from what’s spoken unfelt
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
women playing the lute contemplating God
a woman sits
by herself playing the lute
deep in contemplation
thinking of God's love
for her
thinking of the devil
and his temptations
she continues playing the lute
all poetry contest
Lute
Curved, inviting, light,
it has the look of antique ships,
a galleon bulge of straight-grained woods.
Fretful cat-gut cords
coiled taut by silver screws
above the calibrated neck
conceal a thousand foot-pound pirouette.
Child of Sirocco and Spain,
veils, fans, brocade, and lace,
olive, vine, and orange surprise,
its plangent sound irrigates the moonlit air
peeks through black-eyed jalousies.
Dowland, Cutting and our solid Bach
crocheted arabesques of tuneful notes
like pearls, rubies, emerald stones,
to pluck or tease from that dark pupil
a winking smile of treble Sun.
The rhythm of lute
Awakens true veins of love
All from ear to heart
-October 28, 2018 Chattogram
Parody Song for Lute and Harp
The cobbler who mended the princess´s shoes
Fell in love with her feet and declared his love.
But the princess was quite chocked, said…no.
Sad cobbler sat in his shop repairing waders,
Farmer clogs and polished officers riding boots
The cobbler who mended the princess´s shoes.
The princess had shoes to repair, sent a servant,
But the cobbler needed her feet to make a fit.
He fell in love with her feet and declared his love.
He mended her shoes touched her ankles to make
Sure the shoes fit and the princess´s was thrilled
Made him a courtier of her dainty ankles and feet.
I thought i knew what I wanted
But so I was wrong, it's something different
My heart hides from he surest of faces
Thinking its fear of getting hurt again
Now i know that was only half
Of what I feared haunted
My mind, thoughts, and dreams
These words, you'll find, are true
Son coeur es un luth suspendo:
Sitot qu'on le touche ill resonne