Music

[heslopian]

I wish I could play the guitar.
Then I could sing you what I've been trying to say
all these years in sloppy free verse,
as the strumming of the strings

reinforces each line and covers my lapses
in eloquence, the times when my neurosis
demands a thousand adjectives, so a table
cannot just be a table, but must be a

threatening or seductive table.
From the bark of my thoughts I would carve for you
lullabies about my mother,
not only stripping her for you and my creative ego

but weaving her into tapestries of sound,
where she would rest, a bright figure,
with a gollywog smile and Russian doll intricacy
beside her successor, my dad's second wife,

the drowned woman staring always at the sun.
And how we would laugh over steaming coffees
as some political fellow recites a poem about the war,
my guitar leaning against my chair and facing

him while he prattles on. The strap would be frayed
where it meets my neck and I would play for pennies
on street corners, not because I need
the money but just for the experience.

Music has always seemed so pure,
and me a jezabel in a monkhouse
completely ignorant of how to play it,
expressing my sin through random and silent line breaks.

[Ris Yerg]

Hi!
Very good work!
I think we all had (some have yet) desire to play music. As for me, long ago I found out that I'm very if I, well, don't do it! Ha-ha! Though, of course, it was a great disappointment ...
Enjoyed with reading.
Thanks.
R.Y.

[dudestir127]

Nice. Sometimes I too wish I could play a musical instrument.

[heslopian]

Thanks for your lovely comments, guys

[billy]

I wish I could play the guitar.
Then I could sing you what I've been trying to say
all these years in sloppy free verse,
as the strumming of the strings

reinforces each line and covers my lapses
in eloquence, the times when my neurosis
demands a thousand adjectives, so a table
cannot just be a table, but must be a

threatening or seductive table.
From the bark of my thoughts I would carve for you
lullabies about my mother,
not only stripping her for you and my creative ego

but weaving her into tapestries of sound,
where she would rest, a bright figure,
with a gollywog smile and Russian doll intricacy
beside her successor, my dad's second wife, what an exemplary verse

the drowned woman staring always at the sun.
And how we would laugh over steaming coffees
as some political fellow recites a poem about the war,
my guitar leaning against my chair and facing

him while he prattles on. The strap would be frayed
where it meets my neck and I would play for pennies
on street corners, not because I need
the money but just for the experience.

Music has always seemed so pure,
and me a jezabel in a monkhouse
completely ignorant of it, obviously this isn't true
expressing my sin through random and silent line breaks.

the whole poem is 4 sentences longgggggggggggggggggggggg which averages out at about 50 words a sentence (give or take)

that said i enjoyed it very much, some nice little nuances going on, like the guitar facing the politician. the wanting to busk for the experience.
the 4th was a great verse, my favourite. the comparison of mum and step mum was so good.

my main nit is the sentence run ons, for me you need to at least double, if not triple the amount to at least two sentence a verse on average.
for me the poem ends at monkhouse. again for me that would be a superbly fantastic end. the line; completely ignorant of it, feels like a contradiction if you don't want to remove the last two lines just remove that one...please

the 2nd person in the poem feels vague, i think mentioned just twice but it works, for me the poem is more about how we feel a little repressed, what we wish could do or achieve, and the need to break out boundaries.
it's also about regret that we aren't sure how to express. while the poem feels upbeat; it has undertones of sadness which temper the lightness of it and thereby making it more solid, giving it more depth.

for me it's only a small edit away from being very publishable. jmo

thanks for the read

[heslopian]

Thanks for the kind words and feedback Billy. I must admit I tend not to think about sentence length in poetry (as you can see), because provided the lines are broken up with commas and line breaks I don't think it a problem. I see what you mean though, especially considering this is free verse. By "completely ignorant of it" I mean ignorant of how to play music. I'll add that onto the sentence actually. Thanks for pointing out the problem there.

[billy]

with that done the last two lines work much better

[addy]

I really loved this one. ..."my neurosis demands a thousand adjectives, so a table cannot just be a table, but must be a threatening or seductive table."... those lines made me laugh out loud because god it's so true sometimes, isn't it for all of us? And your other lines after that are golden as well, with a perfectly-placed end. It's a perfect description of how poetry usually differs from music, and poet from a musician... how there's an almost neurotic focus on words and details as opposed to the pure abstract expressiveness that music could achieve, all written in a way that still demonstrates the different emotional power of poetry. Very affecting piece.

[heslopian]

Thank you very much Addy, and I'm glad you could identify with those italicised lines in your comment