You play on a clarinet;

I play on my old cello.

Your music is so poignant;

My music is mellow.

I can’t play from your music;

You cannot play from mine.

Our music must be transposed,

But will never sound the same.

I have longer fingers.

You have bigger hands.

You play some from memories

which I don’t understand.

I play from my own history,

You compose your own.

You have frightening feelings,

which I have never known.

Would you play my music?

Then it must be transposed;

but we can’t transpose our feelings,

Unless we are shown

how to draw out symbols

From the dark Unknown.

I love the music that you play

and I know you do love mine.

But can we play together

In some meaningful design?

Transposing keys and feelings

Is a difficult,dangerous task;

Much easier to play pretend

and never,never ask.

I cannot share your lifetime hurts

and you cannot share mine.

Is it easier to share happiness

and love of the Divine?

Oh,play your poignant music for me

with your meditativee art.

I shall listen with my ears

and listen with my heart.

And then I shall respond to you.

My instrument is here.

I am playing quite new music.

I feel you drawing near.

Suddenly we are moved to play

A completely new design.

I seem to feel your feelings

And I can hear that you feel mine.

Together we seem to make a work:

Torment and release.

This music is so tragic,

Yet its design has brought me peace.

Play on,play on,for now I know

I begin to understand,

without more words or gestures

except those from your curved ha

 

Did you ever have a lover
with long red hair?
For long red hair
I long to care.

Did you ever have a lover,
and then another lover?
For there’s added gain
if you feel no pain.

Did you ever have a lover
who loved your eyes
and never ever lied,
and let you cry?
Whatever was the trouble.

You’ll never have a lover.
if you have no time for others
for love needs care,
As well as hair!

Here and there are many lovely people
who live with their lives with scruples;
if you’re scruple free,
then let it be.

Oh, let it be is fine,
Except for the divine.
I want to be involved
For I can’t please all the folk,
Who touch me with their talk.
My heart has melted down…
and now I’ve grown a world
completely on my own.

Were you ever quite alone
Like a toad under a stone?
Did you ever hear a groan
as you wrote your own poem?

For you’ll never write a poem
that makes me laugh..
Because my feet are in the shower
but my body’s in the bath.
My head is on the shelf…
and I’ve lost all of my stealth…
Yet you will love me
Evermore.

Evermore and evermore
You’ll be standing on the shore;
Watching the horizon,
wondering how the world’s gone.

Oh, you’ll never be a poet,
Unless you make notes..
They take you to the limit…..
Love, whatever is it?

Evermore, evermore…
The words seem like a roar…
I love your heart’s deep core..

Let me write you more
And more,
And more.

Did you ever have a lover?