Fanfare for my Reverie
Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring” fills up my mind
and watches my prosaic thoughts unwind,
slowly slipping away like winter’s funeral
like a song of joy to its reluctant submittal.
A fanfare with adherent arms that enfold me,
brings me to the scene of springtime’s reveille
and places it inside of me to fire up my passion,
the new me, the me that became so venturesome.
I ran with it into the jungles of imagination
with a brand-new feeling and a thrilling sensation.
It loosened up the straps that bind me to myself,
got into my mind through magic and cast a spell.
The new me became a poet of that haunting sound
that echoed through me like empty rooms all around,
but rooms filled up with the scent of rose gardens
that left me with a new spirit and my soul cleansed.
Then the exploding drums drove me into the tempest
through its menacing teeth and into its fiery chest
where I could feel the lightning bolts on a rampage
as I slid down on their backs to my earthen stage.
But it lit my pen on fire as I wrote my poem
and the passion released my spirit to roam;
soft sounds like the touch of a feather,
then hell and dissonance all mixed together.
An ode to Stravinsky’s “ The Right of Spring”
that brings me to my poem and makes me sing.
