NaPoWriMo 2013 #4

This poem is inspired by a fabulous musician called Avi Adir who I saw performing on the street in Istanbul last October.


On the street with the tramway from Taksim Square

It seems there are musicians busking everywhere

Halfway along the rails near the Ada bookshop bar

Fifteen Turkish folk singers sing songs from Ankara

The sweetest song that night came not from any tongue

But from the dulcet fingers of some hippy with his hang

On a carpet covered cushion of yellow blue and green

The hang rested on his knees like an upturned soup tureen

A crowd of people gathered as he wove his rhythmic spell

Each carefully chosen note clearer than a crystal bell

Far far sweeter sounding than any bell that ever rang

Now ever since that night I’ve been searching for a hang


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