Discord in D Minor
by Frank Watson
we imitate the history
of sound and soul

but the notes go on

unconscious, an


orchestrated dream

of shhhh shhhh

in whistling 

wind
and baby trees


we feel the rays

of Sun pulsating

to bake our skin

in tanned effervescence


along a highway, silent

with whispers of just

our mind or was it

the wind fondling our hair?


in sudden traffic

the start, stopping

horns grind us

to powdered espresso


but we’ve reached the

business of clicking faxes

and printers and... do you dare

interrupt?


oh music of sand

or shape from chiseled granite

what new tunes have you played

into our memory’s ashes?


for once this land had cattle pounding

the plundered grass with hoof prints

and blood that danced in daisy chains

but now we feel just tiny tremors 

and the swish, swishing

ferry pushes the river waves as

dogs hint of barking distance

and land creeps along the bow


Her eyes are dark and wet

her soul is out of tune;

etherized we sit beneath the moon

in discord’s false duet


but nothing more will happen


as I write and 

                        drop


my pen


            
                 the sound will

     fall


to the end







Note: written for the 5/5/2012 dVersePoets prompt of "music".


All writings and translations are Copyright © by Frank Watson, also writing as "Blue Flute" (2011-2014).
Year: 
2012