Tag: Sitar

Mizrab

My index finger hurts like hell
from playing sitar
A sadistic plectrum
called a mizrab
pinched tightly on it
A tortuous tool
George Harrison
likened to having a
weasel latched on your
finger
I’ve convinced myself
the sacrifice is noble
Suffering for my art
Deep grooved callouses
deforming my pointing digit
and I still stink at it
Sitar is a lifetime thing
and I’ve pissed half of
mine away
Whatever
I’m still gonna play

Benediction

Dispatched some eight minutes
or so ago and told to cross
one-hundred fifty million
kilometers
comes a benediction
A small piece of the sun
streaming through the
palladium window
spans the family room
and lays hands upon my
sitar in a shining
silent blessing

Siren Song

Yule is now stripped
from the room
Incandescent yellow
usurping red and blue
Sitar
Surbahar
Guitar
returned to their places
in full frontal
bare-stringed glory and
with their seductive curves
and sexy voices they
wantonly beckon me
to come
and play

Butterfly

I can master nothing as the
butterfly I seem to be
Attracted to the sweet
nectar of sound
I alight lovingly on an
instrument’s petals
tasting its bounty but
never staying long
Some other flower’s song
will call me and I’ll follow
My hands covered in pollen from
surbahar
guitar
flutes
dobro
mandolin
sitar
doumbek
What’s next?

Tuesday Morning

The willow oak is
still holding many
dead leaves
A grieving mother
unwilling
to release
from her clutches
those lost children
whose winter has come
and in the background
Ustad Vilayat Khan’s
Raag Bhairavi alap
sings from his sitar
and I hear her tears
in each sweet meend