Vagrant Symphany

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the vagabond , his emporium

lays down his orphaned head

a surrealistic pillow of pandemonium

a wrong note seals his fate

this night of winds enormous .

see his bones with softest hand

scattering peace to ten Peruvian mares

breaking hay bales upon this land .

 

do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .

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the vagabond , his performance

opens a bottle of cheap wine

a renaissance of playing cards importance

the ace of hearts laid out on paper wrap

this dusk of summer solstice , a waning chorus .

see his eyes ,unlike Chopins nocturnes , a dreams disaster

he sits nere turning his head on a delicate unshaven neck

a song of one long crescendo sighing from the pasture .

 

do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .

image

the vagabond , his Europa

stands staring at voices in the barn

the moon of Jupiter quiets his colt Lakota

a sweet note , the Garden of Allah where

all horses talk keeping secrets , digging up diamonds

with no alliance of violence to capture

the peace of their king , the son of Zeus

the vagabond with wounded fracture .

 

do you really exist

did I really see you that day

was it the flash of the bulb or where

senseless scribbles of pencil lay .

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did you tell me what they said

the horses surrounding you with warmth for bed .

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26 thoughts on “Vagrant Symphany

  1. outstanding
    breathtaking
    the music
    the photos
    the words
    curtsy my lovely friend
    I wish I cold have a drink with you
    listening to Santana and watching the wild horses
    that can’t hold us down.
    – Chrissy

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    • Hi Chrissy , my wild one …thank you for our connection and your sweet comments which always brings me smiles ….sorry to respond so late , life got away from me and I’ve been roaming in the fields of clover …hugs and love , megxxx

      Liked by 1 person

    • Hi my deer friend …sorry to respond so late , I’ve been wandering in the forests , the people causing me to be rather skittish … your presence is always like a refreshing drink of water from the rivers streams , thank you so much , Julie ….love , megxxx

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  2. I’m listening, Meg, to the way you throw open the curtains to Love’s charade, reach backstage and pull the symbols down off the sun’s mantle to arrange them for us on the stage, as if to say, can you see…? It was fleeting. But real nonetheless. We have to catch it when it flashes across the sky. It’s meaning was never discrete; rather it was carried by a constellation of moons, card games, and gentle animals that sleep standing up, to stay near to the sun’s warmth…

    Love
    Michael

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    • Deer Ellen …I was just now reading your gorgeous and courageous poem while you were on my site ….I feel very close to you in spirit and am so grateful for your beauty shared …I’m not surprised that you love horses too …may your evening be filled with stars on the soles of your feet to guide you on your journey …love always , megxxx

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      • Beautiful comment, Meg. I do feel a connection, too. And your picture looks like my best friend from childhood, second in closeness only to my husband. She died a long time ago and left a gaping hole. She loved horses big time! An added connection to you. This horse pictures are fabulous! Mucho love, Elken

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    • My dear friend Christine …I’m sorry for such a late reply …struggling a bit with my writing …I’m pleased you liked the music and this poem …thank you so much ! Love and hugs , megxxx

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  3. Your photography blows me away Meg! I had no idea you were from the north country now, I figured you to be an artist in the Pacific Northwest! So glad to find you on-line! Take Care, Dale DV

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  4. I love the mythological indirect reference to Apollo, when he is depicted as a Solar God with his chariot of horses flying above the sky a a symbol of the compass of time.

    πŸ’«πŸŒŸAll horses talk keeping secrets , digging up diamonds
    with no alliance of violence to capture
    the peace of their king , the son of Zeus
    the vagabond with wounded fracture πŸ’«πŸŒŸ

    Besides, I think that the beginning of the poem is absolutely powerful

    πŸ’«πŸŒŸThe vagabond , his emporium
    lays down his orphaned head
    a surrealistic pillow of pandemonium
    a wrong note seals his fate πŸ’«πŸŒŸ

    You nailed the use of metaphors and images here… A cosmological and sociological poem at the same time. Excellent, dear Meg!… Hugs and all my best wishes! Aquileana πŸ˜€

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    • Dear amazing Aquileana .. Your blog has opened different pathways for me as a poet and so your comment dwells deep with gratitude from my spirit ..your understanding of my subtle weavings that try to venture into ancient worlds means so much to me …and I so humbly thank you ..warm hugs of love always , megxxx

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Meg I read while listening to the music.. And marvelled at the captured images and the conjured lines you wove our imaginations within the symphony of such majestic Beings..
    I especially enjoyed this line…… “the Garden of Allah where all horses talk keeping secrets ,”.. me thinks you are a Secret ‘Horse Whisperer Poet’ πŸ™‚

    Sending love and hugs your way Meg.. Suexxx

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  6. Did it really happen half a century ago? I went on a Caravan trip with Santana. Sitting back in a lazy-boy chair watching a galaxy of dust mites orbiting in the morning sun.
    What did Freddy Fender know about wasted days and wasted nights.
    Your post with the sun light playing a symphony on a vagrant hay burner brought back a memory more potent than cheap whine.

    Like

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