Violin Plays by Adele Brown

on

|

views

and

comments

Violin Plays

She holds on tight to bow and strings, yet,
it is her body, curving and rounding,
on inner caverns that gives music
its beginnings:  Soaked in water for ease

in bending, the oak swerves and slips through 
shadows that dance between light and dark.
This maneuvering churns sound, pushes
and strains it through the instrument’s S-

shaped openings, so the filtering 
leaves the dull and baser notes behind
with their thwarted efforts to break free.
There they linger and die leaving their remains

to stain instrument walls and floors with rusty 
water marks while the sublime breaks free,
hovers, and rises.  It is song that rivals
the sirens’ call, a summoning 

that draws all within hearing 
to willingly relinquish the freedom 
of windswept decks on sailing ships,
vessels banking seamless horizons

where water takes a deep breath and
lifts its swollen breast to meet the sky.

Adele Steiner Brown, professor, poet, and writer received her BA and MFA from the University of Maryland. She lives in Silver Spring, MD, and teaches at Montgomery College and UMGC. Her poetry won awards and has been published in The Maryland Poetry Review, Gargoyle, So To Speak, Smartish Pace, and The Northern Virginia Review. She published two full- length books of poetry, Freshwater Pearls and The Moon Lighting and a writing workshop book, Look Ma,,“Hands” on Poetry.

Featured image “Violin (139307167)” photographed by Michael Tighe to be licensed via creative commons 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Share this
Tags

Must-read

Two Poems by Jack Giaour

art opening   instead of a gun you use a camera   amputees are your subject    /these poor people/ you say   the walls of the gallery are dark prints pinned neatly under spotlight   //life...

Two Poems by Emily Webb

LACUNA Another sun unfurlsover chewing gumcanyons, long gnawedby your foothold. A corpus colossus,hippocamping: you couchin fault lines, hammockedwhite matter. Stroke mewith each toss-turn —a neuron-starved bender. Hypoxia will...

One Poem by Charlotte Van Schaack

Writing On The Wall   Even with the fear of haunted place, everyone is trying to become a ghost.          As in the paid...
spot_img

Recent articles

More like this

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here