Poems from the Recycling Bin

All Tuned Up

when I play

there is a small feeling

a curious feeling

like the crescendo moonlight

on the steady ocean bay

the burning beach so bright

the sun beating away

like the lithe deer prancing

to the melody of the sky

the joyous criminals dancing

not caught in their lie

and when strings plucked

and when strings tightened

and when strings strummed

and when strings perform I—

I have a curious feeling.

If only I had a soul.

                                                                                    * * * * *

So, it's a simple poem. I hope you enjoyed it. Can you guys figure out who the speaker was? Reread a couple times and I think you'll get it (if you didn't on the first). Comment; feedback is great!