Music
Serene and beautiful the music flows
In measured waves around me, drowning care
When others play; but when I play it flows
Unevenly, with laboured faltering pulse,
Not beautiful and not at all serene.
With fingers tied in knots and nerves strung taut
I fight the music – more my foe than friend,
Enjoying first the battle, then the peace,
Either of victory or defeat, which one
It matters not; only the fighting counts.
‘Relax’ says Mr. Bryce ‘that phrase should sound
‘tranquil and smooth.’ (Tranquil, oh what a hope!)
‘Spread the notes out; don’t puff in little puffs…
‘Why are you playing softly – it says ‘loud!’…
‘And can’t you bring that melody to life
‘Instead of killing it? There are long gaps
‘After those trills; join them up. Try always
‘To listen to yourself and keep in tune
‘Don’t rush, sound all the notes distinctly; keep
‘Those fingers firmly down; breathe when you must,
‘Don’t burst your lungs, it spoils the even flow
‘Of the music if you gasp.’
Oh dear, I think
I’ll give the clarinet a rest and try
To play the pianola right instead.
Meg Rugg-Easey
