Sunday, April 11, 2010

Flute by Night


Dark sounds in a minor key.

At night tide I hear the flute sing.


Leave your haunted world, poet.

Follow the leap,

shimmer of trills.

Waves rising and

swelling with the sea.


Sparkling black sand tosses

a shell ashore.


Luminous and void

the pearl within.


At the entrance lingers the flute’s voice.

Sorrow in the musician’s hand.




Diane Déhler

5 comments:

William Michaelian said...

Lovely, Diane.

Muser said...

I enjoyed this poem and the blog very much. Good luck.

B.Held said...

So beautiful! Lovely work :)

A.Decker said...

Haunted world, indeed. Very feeling, very visual, the poem itself is haunting.

And is that a mum in the pic? Something about the narrowness and spreading of the petals, stark white against the darkish background, goes great with the poem.

Very fine work.

Princess Haiku said...

William, Robert, B and A. Thank you for your kind words.