Of lost Celtic tunes

Mystic in voice,
notes from another shore
linger on when they can.

Reminding of strong limbs,
rolled sleeves
now in faded garment pale,
when lutes were loud,
golden and fullsome
as a bright harvest moon.

Mandolins carried upon backs
of wandering musicians,
they were hardy fellows
to say the least,
and their apprentice tunes,
melodies of night wonder,
traveling daytime dreams.

Forget-me-not songs
of how one wildflower
in a field full of red poppies,
found in contrast, another.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s