Herr Bach

[jim turner]

Ah, Johann,
what kenning should have named you?
Breast-soother? Ear-pleaser? Heart-warmer?
You gave us beauty, pleasure, wonder,
then with other riches
left them all behind.
They are still here, Johann,
your sounds, rippling in a silver stream.
But where are you?

Alone, I fear, sans paper, quill, and ink,
tantalized by chords you never dreamed
that dance and die like summer snow.
No violin, no drum, no wind or brass--
only, some will say, an old, unhappy harp
with broken strings no one will hear.

5/2/10

[judih]

excuse this, Jim,
but a thought came to mind

better an unhappy harp
than a happy harpie