Haiku 12

Beethoven’s walking
beside his brook. Arm in arm,
each row is swaying.

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The World of Beethoven

I could have been a great poet
but there’s a haven among the stars
and it calls to me: Beethoven! Beethoven!
and in response I have no words,
only the tones of a majestic soul
moving through the world. I choose to live, Continue reading “The World of Beethoven”

Airwaves

For all I know
the gull up high
may ride the tide
we call the airwaves.

A movement never heard
by Beethoven or bird
beats upon the shore
of 92.4.

Where I pocket storms,
an orchestra performs;
the lightning confined
to galvanise the mind:

and I have glimpses,
when all around is dark,
of the rising sun
the Maestro bravely won.

So long ago,
he turned some mighty dial
so we could hear
the joy that’s ever near.