The curtains now depart <br />and silence does replace <br />the whispers of true art <br />his voice subdues its pace. <br /> <br />He speaks in melodies <br />intense, in soothing tone, <br />and on a golden fleece <br />fine words are resting prone. <br /> <br />No ear can now ignore <br />what man and God created, <br />received by every pore <br />all souls become sedated. <br /> <br />Eyelids soon fail to carry <br />the simple load of lashes, <br />at first they blink and tarry <br />remember happy bashes. <br /> <br />Each limb feels warm and pleasant <br />'umm' goes the beating heart, <br />from Priest to simple Peasant <br />they float, for this is art. <br /> <br />Sweet sounds drift through the layers <br />of human skin and bones, <br />as all become keen players <br />and copy precious tones. <br /> <br />A poet in hypnosis <br />holds many thousand hands, <br />walks through a sweet psychosis <br />that mankind understands. <br /> <br />A poet uses senses <br />deep eyes, sharp ears and lips <br />he walks through all defenses <br />and sleeps on lonely ships. <br /> <br />You see a true reflection <br />inside your glass of wine, <br />firm stare in your direction <br />as if to say 'you're mine'. <br /> <br />A metronome of fingers <br />blood rhythm of the ages <br />the music always lingers <br />no words shall live in cages.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-stage-poet/
