Unwanted SymphonyA Poem by BeckyPractice makes perfectMinor chords echo At a slow, funeral pace A symphony of loneliness Just another hopeless case. A sudden crescendo Followed by angry trills. Oboe solo laments, Brass feature thrills. Dark bass notes smother The hopeful voice of flute. Trumpet fanfare interrupts, Warm clarinets follow suit. Percussion pounds a rhythm On old worn-out plastic Conductor misses a beat Woodwinds go spastic Melancholy beauty fades Replaced by a fairy dance. Fingers fly on keys The notes start to prance. French horn changes tempo High brass speeds up too The rest duck and cover As the violence barrels through. The runaway band Slows down once more Stops feeling the moment And reads from the score. The conductor heaves A great sigh of relief Disaster is averted Though respite is brief. The symphonic band begins To play the the next work This time, they're sight-reading Sneaky accidentals lurk. Piano solo is near, In the key of C sharp Followed by tubas And a few notes on harp. Cheerful jazz melody Rings out in happy joy Before the storm breaks Thunderous drums destroy. The performance ends On a clashing suspense chord A cymbal crashes in the silence And harmony is restored. The music plays on It falls on deaf ears A treble choir sings But no one wants to hear. Because no one wants To get lost in the beat To forget all their worries To rise off their seat. That feeling is dangerous Society has decreed. The musicians can play on But must read from the sheet. Practice makes perfect, And perfect they must be Because anything else Might make people feel free.
© 2017 BeckyReviews
|
StatsAuthor
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|