Her voice (that voice!) compels our modest throng
to listen with our quickened nerves, to heed
the heart-pulse of her tender-living song.
She doesn't falter. Not a note goes wrong.
She pokes us, plays with us, as if we need
such teasing; she enthralls our pliant throng!
Entices, captures us, till we belong
to her and to the music. Hear her lead
us deep into the sanctum of the song.
An ageless, timeless, polyhymnic tongue
sings in this woman of thirty and has freed
tears from the eyes of our soul-smitten throng.
From Gershwin tunes to '90s pop .... Among
news-blurt and noise-blare and blind-minded screed,
we find our haven in her sheltering song.
Is this some craft of an enchantress, strong
to humble us, to bring us where we plead
in unison, one meek infatuate throng,
to stay fixed by the bright spell of her song?
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 19 times
Written on 2021-09-14 at 02:26
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