Titled The Psalmist Creed, emerging poet Asford Psalms’ weekly poetry column consists selected poems from his yet-to-be-released debut collection.

Here is Orchestra:


When that music plays, I am stolen away.

I can sit all day and listen; over and over again.

When I first heard it, I lost all say.

It touched my heart and I fell apart.

But I enjoyed it this way.

I heard the voice; my soul had no choice, so it lounged back and rejoiced.

I felt the play from the maestro’s own cane and the lovely display.


The violin was played.

The trumpets relayed.

But the sax had me in chains.


Music was made.

The piano was played.

But the cello had me; mellow.


His hands, sustained.

The piccolo was played.

But the bassists were insane.


The angels were near.

Coz the harp was here.

In a line, from the front to the rear.


The flute was backed.

The conga was struck

The drums had joined but it was not the last.


The triangle was single.

So the tambourine joined the mingle.

And the maracas ended the pack.


Music was made.

Over again.

My heart beats relayed.

And my mind was made.

That whenever you play.

In any which way.

I will enjoy even in a dismay.


You led the part.

That stole my heart.

And I really love that fact.



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