Frances May

Rookie (1991 / Wales, the land of sheep and strange accents)

Violin - Poem by Frances May

Bowing wide
fast and free,
horse hairs
sweeping over nylon string,
vibrato
and hear the notes
warble
an underwater song,
pluck
the sound of raindrops.
Wavering beauty.
a hunter's cry -
one minute,
a gentle whisper
the next.


Comments about Violin by Frances May

  • Rookie - 135 Points Sidi Mahtrow (5/4/2009 7:07:00 AM)

    Cat gut
    Stretched taunt
    Screeching like no other
    Cat could want.
    But atuned to make
    A sound that none would forsake
    As fingers pluck
    And bow does stroke
    Ever man and child can
    Love and understand
    The sounds of a violin.

    Do the still use cat gut?
    Did the ever?

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  • Rookie rago rago (5/4/2009 6:02:00 AM)

    fine and you splendidly presented in poetic voice.........thank you for your kind sharing. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 4, 2009

Poem Edited: Monday, May 4, 2009


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