Old Jaw Harp Poem by Clive Culverhouse
Old Jaw Harp
Aging man your shoes do not shine
upon jagged century's wooden floor
scuffed, swollen leathers, buckles
not laces, bereft of brush that buffed
they tap your time, just time for you
where ghosts still walk and gather
to hear, in a back room on folk night
plucking on your jaw harp, your empty
pint stoic, but full to you, as is the room
and crackling fire your applause, for off
eyes closed, you journey with the flames
forever the beat of your own story
at peace, long after closing time, play.
Another from PoetrySoup 'Your ability to intertwine emotions and thoughts with eloquent language is truly remarkable. The composition is exceptionally well-crafted, evoking deep contemplation and provoking thought.'
Also from PoetrySoup 'So many lines hit really hard for me including " eyes closed, you journey with the flames" " where ghosts still walk and gather" soul stirring! I love also the flow of this poem! '
I put this peom on PoetrySoup, here's a comment 'What a thought provoking and deep poem this is! Pleasure reading your work.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 12:32:27 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
PoetrySoup 'a thought-provoking read, Clive. I felt twinges of sadness reading of the man playing his old jaw harp alone, listening to the fire and its applause. I agree so often we journey with the same flames playing the beat of our own story after closing time. I'm wowed by this one! '