A Quiet Interlude
A Quiet Interlude
Blasting horns, redundant melodies
Saturated notes, callous basses
Piercing piccolos, thunderous drums
Wayward rhythms, hollow harmonies
Frantic tempos, nervous fingers
Pounding feet, agitated hearts
Clenched fists, throbbing migraines
Wrinkled brows, squinted eyes
Blood pressure rising to the limit
Soaked in nervous perspiration
Lunatics with blood stained horns
Grasped between their nervous fingers
Music warriors all worked up to
Go into battle waving their banners
“Do not rest until the
Music beast is conquered.”
Oh, how I need a quiet interlude
That nice easy feeling when
The gentle fingers of music
Knock at the door of my feelings
When beauty speaks to me in her
Soft whispers as she leads me to the
Inner domain of my melodious heart
I can hear angels singing hymns
And hear white doves
Flapping their wings as they
Circle around our lady of peace
Oh, that quiet interlude
Where madness sheds its cloak
And feels the warmth from outside
The warmth that music is
The warmth that
Quiet interludes make it into
The movie entitled, "Whiplash," inspired me to write this poem. If I were that drummer, I would have quit long ago. K.J. Simmons has no right to treat the musicians that way. Music is the language of love.
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