Musical Magic A Logarhyme Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

The ancient harper starts to play.
All background noises fade away.
We sit spell bound

We are transported to the past.
Times iron rule is overcast
by his sweet sounds.

The present ceases to exist.
The silver notes will long persist
to be profound.

The ancient harper cannot see.
His eyes don’t work effectively
He can’t look round.

But we can see and we can hear.
We’re privileged to be here.
Applause resounds.

The harper starts to play again
A soft and gentle sweet refrain.
I am dumbfound.

As are the whole audience
The music holds us in suspense.
We are held bound

By the spell the harper weaves
and will be til the harper leaves.
We’re still spell bound.

Saturday,21 November 2009
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