When I was young..
I loved the trombone...
it's beautifully crafted horn
fed by long elegant tubing...
I loved the feel of it...
the caress of warm steel
against my cheek...
my lips placed gently
on the mouthpiece...
feeling the vibrations
down deep in the pit of my
....soul.
And working the slide in and out...
bass notes and treble all in one...
my hands gripping loosely
the shaft, as if guiding it
to places it hadn't seen...
and didn't need to see...
it was all in the feeling...
the auditory explosion of passion...
bringing it deep into my mouth,
then letting it slip between my teeth...
a glorious moan of ecstasy...
I loved the trombone...
and no one plays the bone...
like I play the bone.
It starts so piano piano 'When I was young../I loved the trombone...'(the reader is on the way to imagine a 90 years old man) , becoming gradually alegro, passionate by the end, an improvised cadence by a soloist to display performance skills of a performer. Wonderful piece of poetry and music.
Man, that is so sensual, like liquid gold dripping into the soul........
Sounds like you're a master at it Coachie. Nice descriptives. HG; -) xx
real piece of a musical tones you made in it's beautifully crafted horn fed by long elegant tubing... I loved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the audible explosion of passion...a glorious moan...clever write coach...congrats