•
unquestionably joy
in a most unexpected place
the eyes of an innocent
cruel society deems disabled
bent and stooped
gripped and twisted
confined to constant care
and his rolling metal chair
his gentle eyes reflect a wonder
my heart has long since lost
by vanity extinguished
his spirit knows only trust
it pours forth from his soul
he rocks and waves
sways and vibrates
fully alive in the now
positioned near the stage
he is enthralled by the rhythm
enraptured by the magic
the guitar soars
the saxman wails
the singer roars
the drummer flails
he is consumed by every note
every beat
every nuance
he experiences an ecstasy
at which I can only marvel
can only enviously imagine
oh, if I could but feel the joy
this precious being feels
so complete
and unexpected
• • •
rob kistner © 2010
___________________________
this was good. i like the words
“the guitar soars
the saxman wails
the singer roars
the drummer flails
he is consumed by every note
every beat
every nuance”
the best.
well said…
A beautiful moment captured!
I guess music, and being able to play it gives back some (more?) of what misfortune has taken away.
nicely observed =)
This is lovely, Rob. Would that more of us could see with the eyes of this “innocent” whose joy through music you capture.
This is really incredibly beautiful! Loove it!
Nothing like music!
ode to insomnia
Also don’t forget to post your creative works at Monday Poetry Train Revisitedon Monday mornings!
This took me back to a jazz club I used to frequent with my son. Every Wednesday, just around the dinner hour, they’d feature a band fronted by a trumpet player who was probably in his late-60’s. The band had several regular followers that were even older than that and their response to the music always made me smile. One of them, a woman who must have been 80 or more, would occasionally have to jump out of her seat and dance. As hard as that must have been on her arthritic joints, she never seemed to notice. Another woman, would play the table she sat at like a piano, oblivious to anything but the music.
Thanks for taking me back there Rob. I hadn’t been in a long time. And the club’s gone now. So is the band I think.
Beautiful Rob!
‘confined to constant care
and his rolling metal chair’
Even these two lines suggest his triumphant spirit. Really enjoyed this poem.
Amazing what music does for us. Beautifully described. Thank you for sharing this on your lovely site.