Solo

Jazz band started a few days ago.

I hold the sounds

Down.

I tell them

When to change and

When to slow and

When to speed and

When to stop.

Root

Octave

Third

Fifth

Flat seven.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Solo after

Solo,

Held together by

Me.

But suddenly,

They all stop.

It's just me

And the drums and

I hear my name and

It's my turn.

My fingers

Freeze.

I forget how to play.

I forget what to do.

They're all 

Staring

And I can't 

Even breathe right.

But then

My four bars are

Over,

And I can go back to

Holding down

The sounds.

Author's Note

My first solo in jazz band. Didn't go too hot.

Reviews

[Ron]

Well I for one am delighted your solo was doomed. Otherwise we would have missed out on this little gem of a poem. Yes the poem is about music but to me it catches perfectly how I felt when I failed throughout life. Also it makes me see how much I missed not having a musical education. I would have love to have flopped in a Jazz Band. To be invited in is a triumph in its self. If you give up music Liz have no fear. Writing awaits. "Repeat, repeat, repeat."

[Ruth]

It sounds really cool hon!
A jazz band ey? Wow:)
I like this a lot, very good flow to it, your work seems to have a knack of good scanning, that really helps :)
Great work!
xx

[Ed Hart]

first solos don't count, nor first anything else

[Robin]

locked up huh ?