Friday, July 29, 2011

Violin strings

Violin strings, unsure what she’ll say
tightly strung bows, wrapped in fingers
dragged... across scalp
Screaming Notes, made from hair.

Four strings tuned - to a fifth
holding bridge, till tensions part
and vibrating sound - echoes
singing, unwound starts  
the opera walls cry, as
fingerboards pressed…deep
changing pitch……

On your feet, you stand
with buckled knees, which clang
the sounding post, digs deep
in "F" holes, that scream away
supporting bridge, as flying tails
whip about, and waggled chins…sag.

Violin strings - die away…..
freeing hands stop their play
a quiet sound, fades----… 
until a teardrop - quivering
lands upon

- the stage.


  1. My favorite instrument of all time.

  2. Breath taking, absolutely breath taking...
    My soul is moved..
    Thank you.


  3. Love, love, love the fourth stanza! Beautiful work!

  4. You are such an amazing poet.

    This is a masterpiece, David. Really moved and touched me.

  5. I feel and hear the chilling dissonances -
    "dragged... across scalp
    Screaming Notes, made from hair."
    - up to the climax, silence and release of teardrop. Just brilliant.