Old Man's Song

His fingers, prone to tremble,
Clasp a chord’s geometry,
Attempting erstwhile ease,
While his voice, rough from age,
Seeks remembered harmony.

Defying his infirmity,
He makes his joyful noise,
And plays and sings his past–
And does it
Well.

this poem fared well in a poetry forum. I’m surprised that it gets no comments here. It is not my best work, just my latest.

I liked that, Ierrellus, though I don’t understand - Clasp a chord’s geometry.
Why don’t you add a few more verses to it?

But cheer up. I composed a poem in April and it took til October to get some response.
I think that many of the poets here have left the building. But I may be wrong.
It has only been a week for you.

Thanks, Arc. The geometry is the pattern fingers make in playing a chord on guitar. This is the first new poem I’ve done in awhile. Maybe it came out half baked. I only intended to show how making music can transcend physical handicaps.

I find it a good verse, if I may make a suggestion, equally half baked, perhaps, but instead of geometry, I would suggest calculus, or, calculate, calculated, since it was through harmonics that trig-calculus arose.

Clasp a chord’s calculus does sound better. Thanks, Orbie.

No, Ierrellus, it didn’t really come out half baked at all. I didn’t get that sense.
I just don’t know guitar lingo that’s all. Someone who does would have understood it. I thought it was some kind of metaphor. :mrgreen:

Yes, making music can transcend physical handicaps or that the struggling to transcend handicaps can make music among other things. Or is it the same thing?

Sometimes we don’t always understand a poet’s poem but in hindsight it will maybe make a lot more sense. A guitarist would have understood it.