Sharing today with The Sunday Muse #222 (congratulations, Carrie!!!). Come and see the other poems!
It's madness. You can see it.
You can't see the music in that spiral.
I can. *sigh*
Just like you can see the smoke.
The kids'll be here soon.
Then we'll hide it in the rack.
Play something safe. Sinatra.
There's nothing safe in Vegas.
We're not in Vegas. This is Texas.
Seedy, oil-town Texas. And this?
This particular spiral is madness
out where the cows won't go.
Give it here. I'll sleeve it.
I don't even like the water.
It's brown and thick and rolls
like it wants you off-balance.
Like it knows the oil's moving through.
You come in smelling like salt
and staring at the yard
until even I think it's tilting.
That salt's good for us.
But this--I heard him play.
He's nowhere near here.
I bought him a guitar at seven.
But she took him, sold it.
Bought that fiddle.
And then the devil taught him.
Put it away. The kids are here.
-- Chrissa (wyndolynne)
I can feel the heat of the sun and the fire of the passion of playing that fiddle in your lines Chrissa! Wonderful!! Your note at the end makes me think of the Frost quote, "the only way out is through"
ReplyDeleteLuv the dodging and arrival of the kids at the end. Who wpuld think mom and dad played that kinda music in that Texas heat😁😁😁
ReplyDeleteNic one
Much💖love
Robert Johnson and Jimmy Page can relate, or so the scuttlebutt says!
ReplyDeleteMuSic and, more muSic ir makes the world a wonderful place! :)
ReplyDeleteI now have Charlie Daniels in my head 🎻! Love this Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteMusic makes the world go round. I carries emotions and sounds that speaks to whoever interprets it to their life and mood. This is great writing, so visual and engages the ear. I too am hearing Charlie Daniel's. :)
ReplyDelete