John Herlihy, Poet and Ongoing Contributor, Shares His Latest! - Complementary Music of Love

 

Ballad of the Oud

by John Herlihy

 

The sad music of the oud flows on the waves of ancient seas,

The notes float through the air on the breath of fresh breeze.

Such sadness is heard in the strings, so many years of sorrow,

An ancient instrument with roots in grief here on earth below.

Through an extensive range and cultural heritage, the oud sings,

Known as king of the instruments and the instrument of kings.

 

Invented by Lamech, a descendant of Adam, so legend claims,

Fashioned from the body of his deceased son and his remains.

The myth of the biblical Lamech directly links the oud to grief,

Grieving his beloved son, the image of the oud provided relief.

The ballad of the melancholy oud both song and mythic story,

That appeals to the heart of the ages with its honorable glory.

 

Rosettes over the sound holes on boards of cedar or spruce,

A rounded pear-shaped body as if resembling a bowl of fruits.

Fruits sublimely did emerge as music to reach expectant ears,

Music that would often reduce the listeners to streams of tears.

A short neck to play notes with more fluid, voice-like motion,

Microtones as in-between notes expressive of musical devotion.

 

The oud played with Sufi poetry as symbol of the soul’s yearning,

Found in courtly love poetry as the instrument of pure longing.

Medieval times witnessed the oud to represent cosmic mystery,

The more enlightened time of the Renaissance sought harmony.

The oud took its shape during the Islamic Golden Age of theory,

Scholars and musicians refined its design to enhance musicality.

 

Each region of the globe produced its own enriching style, tone,

Drawing from the essence of their own culture, light from bone.

The Arabic oud of the desert sands warmer and deeper tonality,

The Turkish oud in the land of the sultans penetrating musicality.

The Persian Barbat, an ancient lute, played with distinctive clarity,

The oud of Andalusian Spain an instrument focused on its tonality.

 

Present-day music incorporates the oud with jazz, flamenco,

Eliciting harmonies from strings by the subtlety of virtuosos.

Listen to this music of the ages as if being lost in its valuation,

As in intricacies of oriental carpets one loses concentration.

Music to echo our ancestral sentiments as peals of thunder,

As Adam’s ancestor sings a simple ballad of magical wonder.

 

As a lover of ancient cultural lore, I take up the oud in hand,

I have never played the oud before, I accept your reprimand.

Still, I have now completed this treasured poem that I wrote,

Who is there to stop me from playing this one exquisite note.

To pluck a single string, as if plucking a flower, with such care,

To listen to and to witness the sacred musicality of its prayer.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Beautiful in its coverage of historical significance!

Birth of a Poem

by John Herlihy

These poems – well, they just keep on coming,

They come from where, humming – drumming

On the balcony, at the bus stop, or on the bus,

I dictate them on my phone, to us, to us, to us.

Rhythms soon begin to gather, then to mount,

Ideas begin to spill forth I cannot rightly count.

Breath to make us breathless, hard to breathe,

Fresh words filling the page that cannot deceive.

Bright sparks to capture before riding the wind,

That turn into a conflagration unable to rescind.

Fire as smoldering embers burning in the heart,

Left behind ashes, aromatic incense to depart.

Felt not as pain but ache as the poem is born,

The verses, flow, finish, from imagination torn.

Hand-scripted with an ebony ink-tipped feather,

Dandelion seeds in the wind ride thru heather.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Ah John, you were born to be a poet and remain throughout...

Ode to Childhood Innocence

by John Herlihy

Ah, to be as little children, to live as children forever,

To run thru streets lit by sunset, have to go home never.

To wrestle my playmates, being tickled into frantic laughter,

To play together knowing they will be friends forever after.

To take a deep breath as a surge of exultation passes through,

Any more happier than this in life I never knew.

Riding my bicycle through the empty streets for pay,

Delivering newspapers to my neighbors at dawn of day.

All the other children still sleeping in their beds,

Sledding down winter snowdrifts on painted sleds.

Ice skating across a frozen pond under a starlit sky,

Blowing bubbles into the air without knowing how or why.

Whisper to my imaginary friend and never feel alone,

All trappings of my later life pared away to the bone.

To wake up in the morning without worry or care,

With full reliance on my night whispers of bedtime prayer.

At the breakfast table with my oatmeal feeling like a king,

Playing melodies on strings of my heart as my voice did sing..

Expressing all of my childhood emotions without pretense,

Reveling in the magical wonder of sweet childhood innocence.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Are we not capable of childhood innocence as adults? Thought-Provoking

This Is What It Means

by John Herlihy

This is what it means to be an infant:

The days are as long as a year.

This is what it means to be a child:

They want days to be longer than they are.

This is what it means to be an adolescent:

They want days to be shorter than they are.

This is what it means to be young:

The days are short, but the years are long.

This is what it means to be middle-aged:

The days are long and the years run along.

This is what it means to be old:

The days are long, but the years are short.

This is what it means to be elderly:

The days are short and the end is near.

This is what it means to die:

Minutes or hours gone, a few seconds left.

This is what it means after death:

An ageless journey into the beyond.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Somehow my memories don't match yours until the very last stanzas...Different lives???

John, thank you for inspiring us once again

to force contemplation, wonder, and awareness

May we find the place where your words lead

For God is speaking through many these days

to HIS people across the world, not just one small group

but to all He has Created...

May we Listen...

Gabby