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Connie Post

Poem of the Day (04-14-2018)

April 14, 2018 by The Poetry Box Leave a Comment

To celebrate National Poetry Month, The Poetry Box is sharing a Poem-of-the-Day, selected from various anthologies and individual poet collections that we have published over the years.

National Poetry Month, 2018 - Poem of the Day at The Poetry Box

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Let it Be” by Connie Post, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

Let it Be

When I was nine
Paul McCartney’s voice
seeped through the bottom cracks
of all the doors in the house

“When I find myself in times of trouble”
how a young girl plays
the same music in her room
as if the singer knows
her name
her crumpled, simple thoughts

“Mother Mary comes to me”
how a young girl
believes the man inside
the record player knows
when she is taking off her dress

“Whisper words of Wisdom”
how a man’s voice can understand
there is no mother
no words
no rosary bead
sturdy enough for this heavy a prayer

“Let it Be, Let it Be”
and she does
Let it be, only to let it fall
as she swallows the rosary
the beads, the cross
the song

and it crumbles
like the lyrics
that broke in her hand
upon learning
how to leave a room


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Filed Under: National Poetry Month, Poem of the Day 2018 Tagged With: Connie Post, music, National Poetry Month, poem-of-the-day, Poems about Music

Luciano Pavarotti by Connie Post

December 1, 2016 by The Poetry Box 2 Comments

“Luciano Pavarotti” by Connie Post, published in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music, released November 12, 2016 by The Poetry Box.

Luciano Pavarotti

(1935–2007 ~ San Francisco Chronicle)

In the last moments –
did all the crumbs of lost notes
fall beneath the table

Did every aria run through his veins
until his breath was like
an ovation
extended, longed for

When his eyes were closed
did his music flow like
cream on the underside
of his marrow

Did he stand in front of thousands
again
holding his hands high
the applause flowering
at his feet

or, as the lights faded
like an old lantern
did he remember
that he was the son of a baker
go back to the days
when they sang together
in a modest church

Did he remember
as he departed
that bread was rising
and falling
being broken and
and passed

countless loaves
leavening
steam
all over the windows

Filed Under: Pushcart Poems Tagged With: Connie Post

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