Iraqi Orchestra
Heroines and heroes,
Members of
"Baghdad symphony orchestra"
Dressed up to the nines,
They play ensemble.
Plucking
rhythmic melodies
with harps,
Their patient fingers.
Maestro,
A disguised,
May be a cursed angel.
Lighthearted,
Ancient and mellow.
He swayed a fragile wand
and rainbows simply glistened.
Behind Omar,
He blew a French horn.
Sustained then intense,
Ascending sounds of violins,
As they played many,
Ali or Zahra or Maysoon.
They Played
chromatic tangled semitones.
CĪHAN or Ezo or ZĪVAN
and tambourines are fine
and Sinan
resonated some walls
of a crumbling hall,
With woodland sounds
of an old English horn.
Sublime the flute,
Dear Miriam.
Dearest jewels
a stern orchestra.
Humble,
No match intonations
of New York.
No match wretched Vienna,
But uniform.
Sunnis, Shiites, Kurds,
Christian Assyrians,
Turcoman,
And Jews in Diaspora.
Modest repertoire,
known mischance prone!
Extremists shun them,
Audience fled away.
Sometimes, the reign
of selfish Saddam.
Blind wrath
of mighty uncle Sam.
A laser guided missile
landed on them.
Still they perform,
Enchanting sonorous tones.
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