My Song Sung Blue-ish

[Wjames]

This poem is about Neil Diamond and a concert I went to a few years ago.

My Song Sung Blue-ish

Neil on stage, black jeans
shellacked on skinny, spindle legs.
Twinkling shirt,
bold lightening effects shoot I think "lightening" should be just "lighting".
across the stadium.

The audience  a mass of
grey hair, 
bifocals shimmering 
in reflected lights. I would cut "in".
 
His voice, deeper, I don't think there should be a second comma.
these days, quarried  
gravel from Brooklyn mines. I like the extension of the common metaphor.
His "Song Sung Blue" 
Caroline was still sweet 
while Rosie crackled
to a stampede of feet.

I danced, knees stiff, 
voice straining, notes
intoned at slower beats. "Notes intoned at slower beats" is very wordy, hard for me to picture.

Some old wounds tricked 
out of memory, batter 
against the moment, 
strangle my joy. This is nice, songs or smells always bring me back.

 I raise a fist in defiance. 
Yes, Neil, yes.
We are "Forever in Blue Jeans." Emphatic ending.

I enjoyed it, I'm more of a Young guy than a Diamond guy when it comes to Neil's, but anyone can relate to the narrators experience of old art that's been with them a while.

Welcome to the site as well.