Horrible title

November 9, 2006 at 10:56 am Leave a comment

“My Opus”

My opus finished,
its notes completed and checked.
Harmonies of brass and strings,
rows upon rows of chairs
prepare at the ready
for the conductors hand to raise.
Like great blueprints for great cities,
like the grids that confine our blocks,
the four-line structure of
confined ranges is now done.
The sound is ready to exist,
ready to be delivered to ears in theatres;
the sound ready for production,
to go from page to reality.
That there is something on paper,
which exists only in thought,
that needs a mass to be created,
that the composers work is never
the final product.
But who shall play my opus?
Who shall translate?
My opus needs ears,
but has no first-chairs,
no suits of black and white,
no theatre or orchestra.
So is it still there?
Did I create these pages?
Are dots and lines and a three lane-highway
of constrained creation really there?
No more, no more,
my music is not for ears.

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Dug Up another WIP

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