Instrument of DeathA Poem by PeteWhen I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest. - Thoreaumy abled hand wraps around its narrow neck tightening a chord sliding back and forth on its constricted throat plucking dark truth strumming sweet sorrow squeezing the last remnants of breath taking its life while introducing it to a slackened death playing a sucide note holding it close killing it taking it far with this catgut, stringed guitar © 2021 PeteAuthor's Note
|
Stats
44 Views
Added on May 27, 2021 Last Updated on May 28, 2021 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
|