frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

post

2015–

defi

2009–2013

belle

2007–2002

dada

2002–1999

sundance

1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

8 May 2009

my guitar hands

cradled broken in my hands
strings unfit for melody
cracked from years of unbelief
chords escaping wistfully

a song a glance a serenade
flailing rhythm increpid rhyme
a beat a chance another day
to crawl to stand to make it mine

tired eyes abandon sight
lost in fleeting worlds unseen
hopeless ears my music make
floating soundless in a dream

a song a glance a serenade
flailing rhythm increpid rhyme
a beat a chance another day
to crawl to stand to make it mine

 each morning   i come in peace   with one final kiss   looking for you   castle in the mist   Bakery Square   dreaming of you   airport   black and white   It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.   Trudging down the street.   one more day   my guitar hands   what a night.   Why did they need both the Atlantic and the Pacific?   as this morning's light   the king