His fingers, prone to tremble,
Clasp a chord's geometry,
Attempting erstwhile ease,
While his voice, rough from age,
Seeks remembered harmony.
Defying his infirmity,
He makes his joyful noise,
And plays and sings his past--
And does it
Well.
Ierrellus wrote:His fingers, prone to tremble,
Clasp a chord's geometry,
Attempting erstwhile ease,
While his voice, rough from age,
Seeks remembered harmony.
Defying his infirmity,
He makes his joyful noise,
And plays and sings his past--
And does it
Well.
Orbie wrote:I find it a good verse, if I may make a suggestion, equally half baked, perhaps, but instead of geometry, I would suggest calculus, or, calculate, calculated, since it was through harmonics that trig-calculus arose.
Ierrellus wrote:Thanks, Arc. The geometry is the pattern fingers make in playing a chord on guitar. This is the first new poem I've done in awhile. Maybe it came out half baked. I only intended to show how making music can transcend physical handicaps.
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