Silent strings

They stood there looking at the guitar
Staring at those loose strings,
Strings which once produced lovely music,
With memories attached to each one of them,
Of times when the songs spoke their hearts,
Of days spent fighting over those words,
Lips almost sealed, words almost lost,
Rendered wordless, rendered speechless,
All that survived, was silence.
The Silence was heavenly,
But spoke loads of unspoken,
Creating almost a haunting music,
Making sounds of the unknown,
Like, Amidst the tall pine trees,
The slow cold wind, that blew,
Narrating stories that felt untold,
As though, adding life, adding that extra zing
Like the sound that came from
That “seventh” string
Telling tales of the beloved, for the beloved.
Which no one cares anymore, or so it seemed.
Silence, can be a really really quiet,
“Nope!”, it just so seemed

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I was feeling very sad after poetry Thursday wrapped up, was kind of searching for motivation, so my friend Darlene who writes at daisies @ pluckthepetal.com , introduced me to Totally Optional Prompts. This weeks prompt was something which I found extremely difficult to write upon, hopefully I made some sense out of it.

The prompt was an old Chinese poetry which goes

“Your seven strings are like the voice
Of a cold wind in the pines,
Singing old beloved songs
Which no one cares for any more.”

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