#mandolin — Public Fediverse posts

Thinking of Vivaldi, 5 Poems by Richard LeDue

After Vivaldi

Vivaldi dying penniless,
knowing his music was out
of fashion and that he was doomed
to be forgotten
makes poems like this
accept that they’d be lucky
to have a 2-dollar afterlife
in a yard sale
and that while they go unnoticed,
the silence probably cheered
at the thought of silencing an old master,
until being left speechless
by the sort of resurrection
worthy of its own sonata.

~~

Alive Enough to Make Noise

Vivaldi’s ghost probably believes
it’s in heaven and not trapped
inside some notes of music,
which isn’t the worst
afterlife I can imagine,
while the rest of us are alive
enough to make noise
like a fly buzzing
against the hell
of a closed window.

~~

A 300-Year-Old Prayer

A cello praying to God
in a sonata
hundreds of years old
proves Vivaldi had a soul,
or maybe at least knew enough
to make one with his music,
and it all makes me feel
like another illiterate peasant
who needed to believe
in Latin as much as in heaven.

~~

Vivaldi’s mandolin

still whispers to me
about those afternoons
sitting alone
in my parents’ living room,
looking outside and only seeing
inside myself,
so sure no one was listening
that I could never imagine
writing a poem years later,
thanking a dead man for dying
a little less than the rest of us.

~~

More Haunting

Vivaldi was the first composer
I heard and remembered the name of,
back when I was a university student,
so sure what brand of beer was best
and that poems needed to rhyme,
only to become a whisky drinker
years later and discover it’s best
to say poetic things unpoetically,
while Vivaldi is still there
like a ghost that doesn’t care
that he’s dead.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

Thinking of Vivaldi, 5 Poems by Richard LeDue

After Vivaldi

Vivaldi dying penniless,
knowing his music was out
of fashion and that he was doomed
to be forgotten
makes poems like this
accept that they’d be lucky
to have a 2-dollar afterlife
in a yard sale
and that while they go unnoticed,
the silence probably cheered
at the thought of silencing an old master,
until being left speechless
by the sort of resurrection
worthy of its own sonata.

~~

Alive Enough to Make Noise

Vivaldi’s ghost probably believes
it’s in heaven and not trapped
inside some notes of music,
which isn’t the worst
afterlife I can imagine,
while the rest of us are alive
enough to make noise
like a fly buzzing
against the hell
of a closed window.

~~

A 300-Year-Old Prayer

A cello praying to God
in a sonata
hundreds of years old
proves Vivaldi had a soul,
or maybe at least knew enough
to make one with his music,
and it all makes me feel
like another illiterate peasant
who needed to believe
in Latin as much as in heaven.

~~

Vivaldi’s mandolin

still whispers to me
about those afternoons
sitting alone
in my parents’ living room,
looking outside and only seeing
inside myself,
so sure no one was listening
that I could never imagine
writing a poem years later,
thanking a dead man for dying
a little less than the rest of us.

~~

More Haunting

Vivaldi was the first composer
I heard and remembered the name of,
back when I was a university student,
so sure what brand of beer was best
and that poems needed to rhyme,
only to become a whisky drinker
years later and discover it’s best
to say poetic things unpoetically,
while Vivaldi is still there
like a ghost that doesn’t care
that he’s dead.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

Thinking of Vivaldi, 5 Poems by Richard LeDue

After Vivaldi

Vivaldi dying penniless,
knowing his music was out
of fashion and that he was doomed
to be forgotten
makes poems like this
accept that they’d be lucky
to have a 2-dollar afterlife
in a yard sale
and that while they go unnoticed,
the silence probably cheered
at the thought of silencing an old master,
until being left speechless
by the sort of resurrection
worthy of its own sonata.

~~

Alive Enough to Make Noise

Vivaldi’s ghost probably believes
it’s in heaven and not trapped
inside some notes of music,
which isn’t the worst
afterlife I can imagine,
while the rest of us are alive
enough to make noise
like a fly buzzing
against the hell
of a closed window.

~~

A 300-Year-Old Prayer

A cello praying to God
in a sonata
hundreds of years old
proves Vivaldi had a soul,
or maybe at least knew enough
to make one with his music,
and it all makes me feel
like another illiterate peasant
who needed to believe
in Latin as much as in heaven.

~~

Vivaldi’s mandolin

still whispers to me
about those afternoons
sitting alone
in my parents’ living room,
looking outside and only seeing
inside myself,
so sure no one was listening
that I could never imagine
writing a poem years later,
thanking a dead man for dying
a little less than the rest of us.

~~

More Haunting

Vivaldi was the first composer
I heard and remembered the name of,
back when I was a university student,
so sure what brand of beer was best
and that poems needed to rhyme,
only to become a whisky drinker
years later and discover it’s best
to say poetic things unpoetically,
while Vivaldi is still there
like a ghost that doesn’t care
that he’s dead.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

Thinking of Vivaldi, 5 Poems by Richard LeDue

After Vivaldi

Vivaldi dying penniless,
knowing his music was out
of fashion and that he was doomed
to be forgotten
makes poems like this
accept that they’d be lucky
to have a 2-dollar afterlife
in a yard sale
and that while they go unnoticed,
the silence probably cheered
at the thought of silencing an old master,
until being left speechless
by the sort of resurrection
worthy of its own sonata.

~~

Alive Enough to Make Noise

Vivaldi’s ghost probably believes
it’s in heaven and not trapped
inside some notes of music,
which isn’t the worst
afterlife I can imagine,
while the rest of us are alive
enough to make noise
like a fly buzzing
against the hell
of a closed window.

~~

A 300-Year-Old Prayer

A cello praying to God
in a sonata
hundreds of years old
proves Vivaldi had a soul,
or maybe at least knew enough
to make one with his music,
and it all makes me feel
like another illiterate peasant
who needed to believe
in Latin as much as in heaven.

~~

Vivaldi’s mandolin

still whispers to me
about those afternoons
sitting alone
in my parents’ living room,
looking outside and only seeing
inside myself,
so sure no one was listening
that I could never imagine
writing a poem years later,
thanking a dead man for dying
a little less than the rest of us.

~~

More Haunting

Vivaldi was the first composer
I heard and remembered the name of,
back when I was a university student,
so sure what brand of beer was best
and that poems needed to rhyme,
only to become a whisky drinker
years later and discover it’s best
to say poetic things unpoetically,
while Vivaldi is still there
like a ghost that doesn’t care
that he’s dead.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

Thinking of Vivaldi, 5 Poems by Richard LeDue

After Vivaldi

Vivaldi dying penniless,
knowing his music was out
of fashion and that he was doomed
to be forgotten
makes poems like this
accept that they’d be lucky
to have a 2-dollar afterlife
in a yard sale
and that while they go unnoticed,
the silence probably cheered
at the thought of silencing an old master,
until being left speechless
by the sort of resurrection
worthy of its own sonata.

~~

Alive Enough to Make Noise

Vivaldi’s ghost probably believes
it’s in heaven and not trapped
inside some notes of music,
which isn’t the worst
afterlife I can imagine,
while the rest of us are alive
enough to make noise
like a fly buzzing
against the hell
of a closed window.

~~

A 300-Year-Old Prayer

A cello praying to God
in a sonata
hundreds of years old
proves Vivaldi had a soul,
or maybe at least knew enough
to make one with his music,
and it all makes me feel
like another illiterate peasant
who needed to believe
in Latin as much as in heaven.

~~

Vivaldi’s mandolin

still whispers to me
about those afternoons
sitting alone
in my parents’ living room,
looking outside and only seeing
inside myself,
so sure no one was listening
that I could never imagine
writing a poem years later,
thanking a dead man for dying
a little less than the rest of us.

~~

More Haunting

Vivaldi was the first composer
I heard and remembered the name of,
back when I was a university student,
so sure what brand of beer was best
and that poems needed to rhyme,
only to become a whisky drinker
years later and discover it’s best
to say poetic things unpoetically,
while Vivaldi is still there
like a ghost that doesn’t care
that he’s dead.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved