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Chord before the crescendo (Free verse) by Caducus Echoes of death briskly marched
her percussion anthem slowed
and I stroked my broken instrument
Like Chopinâs viola.
Echoes of her life stopped
I shook like Harp strings,
Kissed her pursed silent flute
Where breath crafts music no more.
Echoes of a church choir sang
My boxed instrument burned.
A stranger in a dress spoke of you
Then I described you without words,
Through woodwind and echoes
And you returned one last time
In the chord before the crescendo.
Up the ladder:
Absurdly Hairy Quendo
Down the ladder:
Disregard the first line of this poem
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.0
Posted: June 22, 2006 1:27 AM PDT; Last modified: December 14, 2006 10:35 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.2384057 Overall Rank: 4062 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
[10]
ALChemy @ 71.75.188.128
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24-Jun-06/11:40 AM
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Reply
Alway's the fine craftsman Cad.
The first two verses are great. I lost you in âMy boxed instrument burned,â (think you could omit it) but the rest of Verse 3 is good, and the last line is great.
Oh man! Excellent! Sheesh....applause, definitely. Take a bow...this is fantastic... way to go Caducus!
This is hitting my favorite folder.
LOL...Alchemy...Same vote...we agree again! And you should know my rule by now...I never look before I vote or post, only after.
Dovina..."the boxed instrument burned." Why do you insist on literal and concrete, when this is piece is neither? Caducus, don't you DARE change this...the rest of us know what it means! (And, it is absolutely fantastic! 259 view(s)
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