First half of the recital
Twinkle twinkle Repeats
Varying levels of skill
From the scratchiest scratch
To the boldest tone
Composers names
In my mind and this scratchiest scratch
Of a performance dress
Tights constricting me in to
A gilded sausage
_____________________________
Terrified.
feel like hours passed
piano I’d practiced
Lost halfway through the song
A blank stare
A racing heart
A fast pace off the stage
Too much time spent
Learning the composers names
______________________________
The names come easier
I stop less halfway through
And when I do
I pretend like it was on purpose
Rather than running away
I sit In my scratchy dress
I still hate tights
I wonder what it’s like to play
Twinkle twinkle with a bow
_______________________
Great grandfather
The traveling fiddle player
A gypsy in his time
Letters home to his daughter
In my hand
Music beautifully notated,
staves by hand
his violin, unstrung, fading velvet,
sits high
I wonder what it’s like
To make it sing
_________________________________
Holiday, light and laughter
A violin, strung and delicate velvet
Resin and bow
Set beneath deep blue satin
And I set about to play
Variations of
Twinkle twinkle
Until it no longer scratches
As much as an itchy recital dress
As I realize I am finally, at 30,
In the first half of the recital.
________________________________________
very cool Alley
Pingback: Allison Crowe » Blog Archive » The Recital
aw, love it! i like the symmetry of the poem and it’s such a sweet story.
how is it sounding now?
this is one of the girls that came up to NYC a couple times by the way.
it’s funny; those white shells are starting to biodegrade.
hope you’re well!
ps your writing is really funny. not this one, of course, but the others!
& i’m glad u like to take pictures of your food, too.
i remember completely! the violin is starting to sound a LOT better hehe nice to hear from you :) xoxo
Lovely words…Being a musician I can’t agree more! Itchy recital dress :)