It was expected to belong.
A boy who has his sights
aimed high,
who aims to make
his parents proud,
will show respectability
and rise above the common folks.
It was the driving force
that made me join the choir,
a voice of mediocre quality
would not disgrace the school
as it was mixed into the crowd
of screaming baritones,
of pubescent basses and the lone
and rather spindly looking pallor
who, as a rarity, was an essential tenor.
When teenage vocal cords perform,
there is an awe that settles in the hall,
or auditorium, it clings to dusty walls
and rests among the cobwebs of the past.
And hearts pick up their happy beat
as if to shout about their sheer invincibility,
each ear, as it partakes the sum of all,
of loud, angelic voices oh, so pure,
claims ownership of the collage of tones
impressed and stirred to greater deeds,
while restless eyes now roam, subdued
search rows of colleagues in the amber light
until they find that pair of mellow molecules,
look back into the innocence of all,
and tiny promises now sing a melody.
Herbert, this was a great piece that brought so much sound to the read. Enjoyed! It has my orbicularis oris region twitching in delight! Angie : b
H, this is perfect. As ever, a non-sentimental reminiscence and keen observation finelypenned into a poem that just has the reader right there, so well is the scene depicted, and in particular in the last stanza. Whose eyes haven't looked out for those eyes to meet, unsettled until they do... a grand write. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mediocrity is not a word I could possibly associate with you, my friend. I'm sure you sang like an angel! Skillfully described, this timeless experience in the school choir. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx