Music

he plays for pennies
on street corners,
magic fingers creating
music no one appreciates.

the playing more important
than the reward,
no amount of money
could restore him.

she hangs wind chimes
in the house,
away from drafts,
loving their beauty,

but unable to tolerate
melodies until he returns.

Written for the Imaginary Garden challenge to use the photography of Gemma Wiseman as inspiration.

Both Photos the property of Gemma Wiseman. 

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12 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

12 responses to “Music

  1. The second half of this is absolutely exquisite!

  2. silencing wind chimes, waiting for his return… Love that image.

  3. “..but unable to tolerate
    melodies until he returns.” I absolutely LOVED that part. It’s nice to see you’ve taken two images and written separate poems on them. Keep writing.

  4. So love the connection to the two images! As if there is one identity on the outside but a real inner identity! Beautiful!

  5. …really like the emotions evoked in this piece…

  6. hedgewitch

    Great connection between the two pictures, and the people once woven together that remain two divided parts of a whole.

  7. Shawna

    “the playing more important
    than the reward” … Like writing, I suppose.

    “she hangs wind chimes
    in the house” … I do this too. Then I can strum them with my fingers when I want to hear them sing.

    “but unable to tolerate
    melodies until he returns” … What an emotionally evocative ending. Ths is very good.

  8. This was a great union of the two photos~ I loved the ending!
    Well Done 😀 It struck a few chords with me~

  9. How beautiful the relationship between the two–he who plays to play despite lack of appreciation on the street and she who silences even wind chimes because she wants no music but his. It is like an O’Henry story in embryo! I pray for their future as if they were real.

  10. So wonderful….your choice and the blending…..very lovely….creative…

  11. Nice!! Mark…I love how you’ve created this image of stilled chimes for the pain of music bringing memories…well written!

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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