LPiA-26 Nov. 9

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 9

Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a New Reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for the month of November. (or one, or six, or fifteen) Prompts may be revisited at any time. All members are welcome.

Topic : Write a poem inspired by a Musical Instrument.
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[CRNDLSM]

Investigation's proving quite a ride,
he drove to Dave's address to ask about 
his role as manager, seeing outside
a line of cars in the front yard. He shouts

over the noise, Dave rolls out from under
an axle and turns off the loud speaker,
accordians fading, 'I was wonder-
ing, does this violate non compete or-?'

Quick to reply, 'I want their location,
so what? Madison will destroy that place
without my help.  For clarification,
I want to punch her husband's stupid face,

but ive too much to lose to kill someone.'
The interviews have only just begun.

[dukealien]

Keyboard Angst


Like the piano:
until quite recently
it didn’t matter that
the letters had worn off
my PC keyboard.  Now
I have to look because
fingers do not find
the key I have in mind
and it’s blank.  At least
the ivories are marked
with ebony, but when
I hit a wrong one
there’s no backspace.

[wasellajam]

U-Turn

You left a guitar ensuring your return
before those early Montana snows
trapped you into another winter alone.
It sits unplugged, cased behind
the ladder to our loft,
a mini amp on the flat bottom rung.

What jumped to mind that made you head back,
to turn your blind eye towards oncoming traffic
in a sudden unpredictable swing?
I imagine a spring in your step,
no limp to slow a joyful float
over and out.

[Bunx]

I look at the stained maghony
how the lacquer reflects the light.
Its facing my bed as if resting,
I wonder if it dreams at night?

Does it remember the songs
played ontop of bending floors
that made me wonder if
we were falling through?

Maybe it felt the weeks
of my fingers on its strings
practicing in the Potomac
as cattle herd to hear.

I wonder if it felt laughter
when we played on countless
basement floors? Does it know
how many friends met at gigs?

As if it longs for vibration
a symbol in a equation
amplified by circumstances
strengthened by circuits.

I pack up my bass
to take to my friends,
letting it reflect light.

It'll dream when I do.

[RiverNotch]

Your neck will be my bugle.
Your lips will be my horn.
Your throat will be my syrinx.
Your cheeks will be my flute.

Your arms and legs for a lute.
Your breasts and rear for a drum.
Your vertebrae for a keyboard.
Your clitoris for a harp.