Friday, 27 May 2011

Towards a Definition of A Song

They hear mechanized sounds
From broken guitar strings
And old, decrepit pianos
At better times, they mix discordant
Tired sounds from their sound softwares
And they call this music

What music?
I want to hear their voices
Whether they be guttural or saccharine
I want to see their mouths round
Belting a tune from within their depths
I want to hear their voices
Without the noise of machines

Sing me a song live
Don’t lip sync
I want the quietness of the moment
Then hear your voice rising up
Up, up
In one song that will remain
Long after you have sang
Then I want to hear the serenity again
This I call music

C) Lorot Salem 2011

 From prompt in Poetic Asides With Robert Lee Brewer # 133 on "Priorities"


Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh so beautiful, Salem........those are the true voices, for certain.

Salem Lorot said...

@ Thanks Koko.

Raining Iguanas said...

Your words sing in this piece. Well done.

Salem Lorot said...

@ Raining Iguanas, thanks so much my good friend. I hope you are good. Been a while now and my apologies for it. I won't be a stranger.:)

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