Ode On Transferring All My Cds Onto A Pc. Poem by Dan Reynolds

The soundtrack to a life may cause offence
if chosen from the tunes that we have bought.
Inclusive and abusive, in a sense
when dredging up the dirges we’d forgot

From early coloured vinyl 45s
through tape to four-track, CDs MP3s
a browse allows the winding of our lives
before our eyes, to unravel with ease.

The dreadful cheesy pop songs of our youth
were soon replaced by trendy troubadours
Then for a moment, Metal held the truth
and had us all head-banging on all fours.

Then rock and then progressive cast their spell
in their attempt to fill our tuneless void
Our pallet then was coloured in as well
(We’d alternate Deep Purple with Pink Floyd)

A flirt with fusion, then a jaunt with jazz
Embracing with the Blues, then R and B.
The commonality each genre has
Longevity of quality, can give no guarantee.


But somehow through these fads a vein was tapped
a string to follow through the maze of waste
From nursery rhyme to classical, we trapped
the essences to shape our music taste.

The reason I’ve narrated this curfuffle?

The random smiles that happen while
my iPod plays on shuffle.