Paradiddle Poem

Always hated the 

Paradiddle.  Band teacher 

In high school did a

Poor job of hiding the fact 

That he loved Jazz more than life. 

Jazz, was the only 

Place for rudiments, I felt,

Hell, I still feel.  Flams,

Single, double, and three strokes,

Never did a thing for me. 

I was one of those

Who played with their arms rather 

Than traditional.

Never wanted marching band, 

Strapped to a snare or bass drum.

It was the set I

Sought.  Snare, a couple crashes,

A couple bongos, 

A floor tom, ride, Hi-hat, and 

An inverted China crash.

Emulating my

Favorite bands' beats, smashing 

Away after school:

Practicing made me better

While it channeled my anger. 

It's good to see kids

Today, bashing away on

YouTube, in the age

Of cyberphonia. They 

Keep the organic torch lit.