Forbidden Well
Music is not my muse.
Daughter, wife, mother
of singers of songs,
I listen with joy, pride.
I sway in synagogue
to haunting ninguns.
At the symphony
I admire mastery
but no poetry comes
to me from music,
sacred well from which
I cannot drink deeply.
Victoria Hendricks
April 19, 2010
Ok. I wish I could have spoken my truth about songs as well as you...But, then, that makes you lyrical, now, doesn't it? =D
ReplyDeletehttp://lindagoin.com/
Thank you Linda. this was a hard prompt for me and it feels good to know it connects with you -= with someone. I'm going to go check out your blog now.
ReplyDeleteHi Victoria,I understand this to be a comment on the absence of the thing, a poem that metacomments -- if that makes sense. In and of itself very lyrical. Nicely done.
ReplyDelete-Nicole
Thanks for visiting my blog Nicole. Any I agree, my poem is aboutthe experience of the absence of something present for so many I love, and so many in the world in general. I', glad you, and Linda, too, found it lyrical
ReplyDeleteI definitely understand what you are saying here, Victoria. You enjoy music, appreciate it, but it does not bring about poetry in you. Different people have different muses; and that is just the way of it. Your poem expressed your feelings well, and (as the others said) lyrically!
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