Seeing Bluegrass

bluegrass banjo

Bluegrass splashed on all the walls
dripped on the window panes
slipped out the doors
and painted through the air.

Pickers eased to solo turns…
of Dobro…silver luster shine
mandolin…mint and lilac, purple
fiddle…lemon yellow flashed
with lines of tangerine
banjo…copper, blood orange bright
bass…midnight blue, tobacco

A reed-voiced tenor
sewed words to melody
against the drum and pulse
of step dancing in that hall…
each stepper’s will and breath
implicit with shared need
of just tell me caller man
and I shall follow you.

Bonnie Marshall

Artist: Unknown

15 thoughts on “Seeing Bluegrass

  1. I’m reminded about synesthesia as I read this gorgeous poem. Are you a painter too? My favourite lines in this are those you close with.

    1. We lived in North Carolina where I fell in love with quilting (oh, there are master quilters there) and bluegrass… in that old barn…we sat on hay bales. Quilting is the closest I come to art. Thanks, Sally.

      1. My mom is a quilter and I’d say it is definitely an art form. The colours and patterns… I really liked the poem’s multi-sensory feel.

    1. Yeah…my mother made me wear s hat…I stuffed it in our mailbox on the way out. Small rebellions…that and others, help us to grow up…become confident. Thank you for reminding me of it. Smiles…

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