Music Makes the Death Suns Forgotten

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

The primitives believed that music came

From magic or the sacred caves of night

Where hidden goddesses expressed in flame

The voodoo of their hearts.  This spell was light

Produced as sound and rhythm, and the notes

Became the paintings on the cavern walls

And ceilings.  Chanting shamans’ smoking throats

Filled up the underground unpainted halls

With beasts on surfaces that came from beats

Beneath ghost melodies—or beats combined

With incantations echoing the bleats

Of animals in hunting days behind.

  The music and the images and death

Hear my prayer (O for the wings of a dove) – Mendelssohn – YouTube

    Became much later Mendelssohn’s brief breath.

~ Phillip Whidden