each word, when spoken
carries music & form
& when strung together
they can beome symphonies,
or links of a chain
when I was a teenager,
& wrote horrible poetry,
I used to hum while I wrote–
twisting sound like soft metal to suit
that constant, internal singing,
working & reworking
now, I know
spoken voice knows its scales
& does not need
such rough smithing;
anneal once
& burnish lightly,
as too much working
of soft metal makes it break
& a shattered voice
is not fit for singing
a good song sings itself, bursts forth, free and full of feeling, not bound by tapes and metres, the voice and throat joyous companions. the.feeling voice and flutey throat mature, perfect and mellow as the seasons flow.! Susan, you sing well…and it is joy to be touched by your songs. Not having money to pay for dinner, I will stop here!
Hah! Love the reference….and glad you liked the poem!