O, wood that smells of lemon
While the songs make it sweet
Whose bench conceals the evidence
Of music in its sheets.
Sight unseen of our own back
Silent before the tall, dark wood
Whose throat still rings when bumped
A chorus of old "shoulds."
Gelatin prints will separate;
Memories fade blurry into bands.
Music beached in childhood's shell
Was upright, never grand.
In a Nano-driven panic, people. I think I'm going to have to revisit this draft in November. However, taking a break for The Sunday Muse and Poets United Poetry Pantry this week. Then, back to shoveling words into the tentacles of my draft (which features actual tentacles...) and silently apologizing to all make-up consultants (er...one of the villains might be a make-up consultant...which is kind of a theme with me...let's just blame that on a lifelong possession of freckles). Hope you're having a good beginning for the coming week!
-- chrissa
Isn't that where all poetry stems from?
ReplyDeletePanic? Tentacles? Someone should definitely NOT inform the SyFy channel. :)
DeleteI enjoyed your comment as much as your poem. I have freckles too. Smiles. I LOVE Marge {iercy's poem about her skul;king past the disdainful clerks in the cosmetics aisle "like a raccoon". LOL. I so relate. Beauticians cant do a thing with me.
ReplyDeleteI remember being assured that fuchsia lipstick would make me look "just like Molly Greenwald" (Ringwald, for those non 80's kids). Wore it faithfully for months. :)
DeleteI enjoyed this very much.
ReplyDeletethanks :)
DeleteFind myself, looking back to one of my uncles and aunts home, who had an old piano, which I tried to play. Not that I could a tune, if my life depended on it. Had forgotten about this moment.
ReplyDeletesometimes the noise is just as much fun as the tune :)
DeleteA chorus of old shoulds...i love that line Chrissa! Brilliant as always! 😎⭐🌻i love this!
ReplyDeleteEnjoying the rhyming of yoyr drsft so far.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my Sunday Standard today Chrissa
Much💟love
This is lovely! The word-smithing and cadence are mesmeric … and that close ~ sigh ~ WONDER FULL!
ReplyDelete"Upright never grand" seems to imply that hopes that you might find a career in music was squashed by reality. As children the world beckons us but we each take our own wavering paths. Hope I'm still around in November to see the honed off version!
ReplyDeleteMusic beached in childhood's shell
ReplyDeleteWas upright, never grand.
Very much so! But a child retains far easier in memory that they can be easily recalled. May not be grand but still worth the listening! Great word-craft Sandlin!
Hank
Oops, not sure whether I pressed publish in my attempt to comment, or same just disappeared into thin air. So again!
ReplyDeleteYou are a true poet Chrissa - I love your words to bits and the close, magnificent!
Anna :o]
Dear Crissa
ReplyDeleteMonday WRites 165 is live. I invite you to link in
much love...
Nano-Driven Panic Poetry with Tentacles sounds like a fantastic new genre (I would read it *hehehehe*).
ReplyDeleteI really like the rhythm in these one, and the imagery--"Music beached in childhood's shell" is brilliant.
As one who briefly tried to learn on an upright piano as a child (before teacher and parents realised I was tone-deaf!) this is quite nostalgic for me.
ReplyDeleteyou've worded magic for the melodies .... and for some, indeed, it is a pleasure and pleasurable experience ... I really like the opening of this and then how it all just flows along, - do you write music? LOL --
ReplyDeletethis is lovely!
I am very happy with what you wrote
ReplyDeleteThis is really one of the articles that I think is very interesting in terms of its contents
Thank you very much for sharing this pretty good information
Cara Menghilangkan Bisul Di Pantat Pengobatan Alami untuk Menghilangkan Koreng Obat Kurap Di Apotik Cara Mengatasi Saluran Tuba Falopi yang Tersumbat Cara Terbaik untuk Mengatasi Sulit BAB Cara Mengempiskan Kista Secara Alami Tanpa Operasi Obat Gabak Obat Kurarawit Obat untuk Mengatasi Susah Kencing