A vine in winter weeps
for the loss of blossoms,
for the loss of summer,
for the loss of laughter
like a music's strummer.
A vine in winter weeps
for the wind's soft blowing,
and the song birds calling
while children are playing
in meadows entralling.
A vine in winter weeps
as loneliness engulfs
a snow white and frozen
landscape with dark shadows
of nature forechosen.
A vine in winter weeps,
as a lonely figure
wanders a country lane,
a wayfarer in search
of a balm for his pain.
Categories:
strummer, winter,
Form: Monchielle Stanza
Sunflower field of yellows and oranges
Green leaves apparently hiding the krazy cat
A one-eyed pirate who sneaks and slithers
Field’s golden fiddler strumming in time
Strumming his truth
Strumming his heart’s blood
Strumming and strumming
Strumming in time
Comic book colors parading in krazy cat’s head
Don’t ask me about this field at midnight
Silk and pearls, better than Iowa’s corn
That’s a hint and you’ll get nothing else
Strumming my song
Strumming my sorrow
Empathy oozing out of my pores
China Cat sunflowers guarding my secrets.
My golden fiddle dancing her unique tune.
Quintessential secrets of the krazy cat hidden.
I am the strummer.
I am a sunflower.
Categories:
strummer, music,
Form: Lyric
The stars, they were shinin' when Harry came home;
And the moon, it was big and bright.
He quietly promised no more to roam,
So, we danced in the firelight!
When Harry came home, the people were singin'
As he playfully tousled my hair.
When Harry came, the bells were ringin'
And bluebirds in the air!
When Harry came, sweet scents of summer
Lingered all around us.
When Harry came home, the banjo strummer,
Like the night, so melodious!
When Harry came home, he kissed my lips,
As the brook moved through the trees;
And stood there, hands on hips,
With eyes that seemed to tease.
When Harry came, my heart beat faster,
And gave a sudden thrill!
When Harry came home, moon of alabaster,
And faint laughter from Blackthorn Hill.
Categories:
strummer, bird, emotions, happiness, home,
Form: Rhyme
I am the toucher of lost hearts
Allow me to reach into you
So the rivers of pain may part
The words I speak to you are true
I possess an ancient power
Allow me to reach into you
I come to you in morning hour
Relief is but a string away
I possess an ancient power
With practiced fingers I do play
Your heart becomes my symphony
Relief is but a string away
You live within my poetry
Your heart becomes my symphony
I am the toucher of lost hearts
So the rivers of pain may part
For are you? Fantasy character contest.
I think all poets possess magical powers.
Categories:
strummer, fantasy,
Form: Terzanelle
Limerick : Once a tongue-twisting Pop Man-Eater
Once a tongue-twisting Pop Man-Eater
Went on rampage with just her Strummer
Tunes she hissed were so sweet
Crunched Frenchmen by the fleet
Watch Out ! ‘Merica ! for this Nor’-Easter !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
strummer, holocaust,
Form: Limerick
I remember your fingers
upon my teeth.
We were
bread and butter;
I was le Sac and you were Pip,
a strummer and a quip,
the mesh of wet and dry
that even distance.
But how long it’s been.
My wires are shaky, achy
with desire.
Once ago,
you put your money where your mouth was,
and you took me home
and you kept me there.
Now you’re broke
you’re condensing down.
And you’ve got me quavering the silence,
longing for the final touch.
I burned and resurrected
to be this Grand Piano.
And it was you who took me!
My strings are rigid
from temptation of your wrists.
Holding on to my keys
willing for you to play
Manmade
me to use me
But I’m breaking in limbo,
away from you
and I am too late
to mend you.
Categories:
strummer, introspection, loss, me, me,
Form: Narrative
Quiet! Quiet!
No distraction or reaction
to the situation
of creation
unfolding syncopation ...
a blues distillation.
As the sax-o-phone
does groan into a tirade
the parade of ticks and tocks
licks and knocks
reverberate from the drummer,
bass strummer and pi-an-o
to congeal into real
high fueled blues.
Up and down the scales
the moan wails
a lascivious groan
lusty riffs thrown
by metal and ivory
into the ether to
sway with a sashay
under a blue moon.
Categories:
strummer, music
Form: Free verse
Quiet! Quiet! ... no distraction
or reaction
to the situation
of creation
unfolding syncopation
with a blues distillation.
No words to disturb
the ears of fears that leers
from behind walls in the night
creepy crawlies all in fright
from a blues light.
As the sax-o-phone
does groan into a tirade
the parade of ticks and tocks
licks and knocks
reverberate from the drummer,
bass strummer and pi-an-o
to congeal into real
high fuel for the blues.
Up and down the scales
the moan wails
from a steamy groan
lusty riffs thrown
by metal and ivory
into the ether to be
swayed with under a blue moon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` for Amy Green's contest
Choose One, Have Fun .... "Jazz"
Categories:
strummer, music
Form: Free verse
A pale imitation of the moon
Strumming the strings of its light casually
In seemingly unwavering lines through a disk of
Two dimensions onto my three
Like Columbus imposing his world on the world
Illuminating the room, with indifference to
Science or my prose or poetry
Or my ambivalence as to the character of my words
As my hand, skin tinged by the Earth and the Sun’s arrangement
Clutches the jaundiced page
And my mind, in awe of Earth and Sun
And Science and Light, struggles to count
Like a lost driver on a lonely moonlit black-blue highway
The coordinates of its home on the x, y, and z planes
And beyond
Of this mammoth matrix stretching far beyond
All horizons, every vertex, anything we can see or imagine
And one understands that this is a proof
But what it proves proves uncertain
Except for those who believe, it is knowledge
And for those who do not know, it is belief
And for those who do not believe, it is a fantasy
But a fantasy they should wish to believe
Categories:
strummer, faith, life, nature, on
Form: Free verse
A voiceless emoted summer ran amok the muse music's mandolin strummer.
Essence of antiquity wander and sulk...
Arched building's olden archetecture is many awsome massive like hulks.
Gargoyles perch at building eve's set...
Mine eyes have failed to adjust to
strange one's yet met.
Opera houses are filled up to the rafters...
Performed by artist's well talented crafters.
Rained downpours hard on French cities...
Stray alleyed dogs searching for unwary kitty's.
Food scraps are missed by many a moungrel...
Other scraps are found by rats that are half filled with fungul.
Hotels done swamped with bedbugs that bite...
Time to leave this country b'for another wasted spent night.
Categories:
strummer, death, mystery,
Form: I do not know?
No matter what the people say
this here man has earned his stay
a man of freedom speak
a man in times rarely weak
but i did not know him through
though i wished that dream came true
born a rugged man
he had seen e'ery land
and i wished that i could have been there once
just to meet him and listen once
but the days
they come too fast
and we are here
reminiscing of the past
Redemption Songs
we have so many
our friends that have come and gone
all left their redemption song
Joe why did you so softly leave
leaving us to weep and grieve
but you taught so well
through your stories tell
shadows long on the ground
reggae, rock, and hip-hop sound
come what may in this here life
i know you had a loving wife
and of friends
you had them all
to the end
beyond that wall
we loved you so damn much
your words had that touch
and now we've come to the end
and now we are lost without you friend
so listen we to your works this long
your lasting redemption song
*To a great man, Joe Strummer*
Rudeboy John
Categories:
strummer, music, people,
Form: Pastoral