jaw harp
listen to my voice
it is your voice that I breath through, though
your secrets are whispered but by my arouse
speak my thought
o sing me
harp
to the mouth at the mic
on one side
the awe-maker
on the other side
the awestruck
harp
to the ear at the air
invisibly gained
bleed the crowd
there is something about
the simplistic shape of a conundrum
an ancient voice in modern mouth
in cartloads for the few to quell
where ice finding comfort in flames
many a throat bending breath
singing like electric birds of paradise
fully charged and chirping
hum and twang and cooing purr
songbirds, my blackened raven
thaw from towers, steel beauty, caw
across tropics, canopies and solitudes
sweet openings to a midnight's play
oh warm to my lips, my songbird, warm
we fill each other, marry
beyond the cartoon spring in Scooby Doo
like a stag on a mountain’s rippled rove
a dimensional wormhole letting feelings through
bringing words of secrets, a couple’s love
an instrument whose song comes from within
a pluck, the kiss upon the lips
my meditation, a distant lawn mowing
bring me syllables served in porcelain cups
and the shaman knew its cosmic worth
a healing voice like a Tuvan’s throat
deep flames that crackle in the hearth
or further down to magma’s note
the twang, its cry articulates
with the warming drizzle of chocolate
I wanted to be
an electric guitar,
to vibrantly run my screams in
melodically riffs and solos...
Turning my pains into art...
But I'm just that... lone cello
how bitter and silent
dies of thirst in a corner
without performing any blues.... !
A musical instrument my soul is
Yearning to be tuned
For
To perform heaven's symphony
Under
The direction of the divine!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 April 2021
.
My guitar sings, swings, dances
Those strings do-see-do; circle
Left, right, then form a big square
Tensions are released.
Surrounded by silence and draped with a linen sheet,
to keep dust from your natural sheen,
and protect you from direct sunlight;
not from the loneliness and gloominess of your night...
How thrilling and gratifying was to hear
the gleeful or moody notes,
when these careful fingers
played an octave: either lower or higher!
Never abandoned for a long period,
always tuned-up, free of dust and ready for play;
a companion that loved being spoiled,
by letting me improvise the melody of the day...
Let me see myself in virtual reality, stately and taut,
sitting in my stylish pose, and hit the keyboard,
transcribing a musical comedy by sharp memory
as the chords make up my distinct harmony...
Be dormant no more, come alive and rejuvenate your tones:
as the spirit that inspires the mood of your melodies; bring back
all the tenors and sopranos to this forgotten stage so dark,
and let them sing the arias they choose within the range of their keys....