Sunday, 12 April 2015

Poem Eleven: Brotherhood

I sing with a choir and I have written poems for them before, mainly the girls. I promised a poem for the guys to address the balance, so here it is:





To sing with men,

shoulder to shoulder,

painting bolder colours than black

on a lined, white, canvas.


The foundation of sound

grounded firmly in the bass clef,

notes felt in the chest like treasure

buried deep,


the roll of waking thunder or

rumble of tectonic plates.

Mid voices round the sound,

breath to the bass heartbeat,


the cushion of air

tenors fly on and rely on

like a hovercraft needs lift

to move forward.


Tree top tenors

add a little nightingale to the mix,

the citrus twist of notes

that gives tunes their bite.


In this tune and backing,

melody and counter,

harmony and camaraderie

bind us together.


Five distinct voices

adding their notes to the blend.

The joy, the honour, the privilege:

To sing with men.


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