a second wail

Musician Haunting (II)

Through these others’ tunes

I cannot hear

The line, the sound

that I would write

My Music; killed, still born

by these that wish to return

Murderers!

My sounds are gone,

Lost to your chant; your wail, your hum

To hear my own again!

I would kill these foreigners

These invaders of my ears.

But they posses no life

And each leaves me, once writ.

One day.

I would hear mine own again.

ghost songs

Musician’s Haunting

Ghosts don’t exist, you die, your Maker says yea or nay.

No, there are no ways to talk with your ancestors

Yet, I am haunted; not by “ghost” or poltergeist.

Nay! For they are not.

Instead, I am haunted by song, by sound

Tunes I’ve never heard

Scores I’ve never seen

Music that was, that could have been

Tunes that never were, yet already are ancient

They wish to exist again, or for once.

I do what I can, but ‘tis futile

Through the din of tunes, I mishear much

If lucky, one leaves me a week.

Maybe one day, I’ll have but a few left;

But the writing is slow, and I fear...

More are coming