Sit still and hear the sitar of the past
Its honeyed fingers sweetening the brain
Rousing dusty senses as we dance
It lit our fire. Now relight our fire!
Bright clothes and dancing in the dark
And swaying to the Stones and Mama Cass
The ghostly arms of marijuana smoke
Reach out to tempt the present to fall back
Stony Now is losing to the past
Its present day is seen to put to waste
Our senses and the midnight mysteries
Of love and madnesses that we embraced
The barren Present has not proved itself
The promises it held did not take place
Our shriveled senses swell to recognize
The sitar's call back to the Garden's grace
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Author:
Lorna (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2018 04:06
- Comment from author about the poem: I might have used "senses" too many times - what do you think? When I read it it doesn't sound wrong...........
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments4
Thanks for the memory Lorna ! I was born in the 1980's but my Parents (who are still HIPPIES (internally) and have their CAFTANS and a great stash of LP's with awesome covers "The Age of Aquarius" The Beatles ~ Stones ~ Mamas & Papas ~ Dylan ~ Joan Baez ~ Ravi Shankar and the SITAR ~ so moving (movable frets & quarter tones !) so unpredictable ~ Divine Music The Music of the 21st C seems soulless Thanks for caring LOVE ~ BRIAN
A flow of mystery fills the lines of this engaging poem Lorna - - days of the sitar stay in the mind once its magic is taken to heart.
Your comment makes me happy Fay............. the magic is what I was intending....
Amazing write
Thanks Tony!
Welcome
Well I've read it a couple of times and it doesn't jar at all for me - super work best left as it is.
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