Acappella

She needs not…

The accompaniment

of music…

She has created

Her own muse

And knows how to use it

 

Closing her eyes..

Drawing

on tones from within

The gentle sway

Of her body

Signals when song begins

 

Alas…

One note escapes

Between her coffee brown lips

Instantly

Enthralling the crowd

Bringing the cries of children under grips

 

She places

Her hands in the air

As if motioning for time to cease

As her words,…

Gather speed like the wind

Signally a harmonious increase

 

Her voice

Is a low hum…

Lending to her African heritage

Listeners

Conjure connotations of cotton fields

Embraced by all of those in assemblage

 

Calling back to mind,

A span of time

When sonnet

Was a means of survival

Coming across

Like an old Negro spiritual

A good ole fashioned revival

 

Not to be compared

To the likes of

Leontyne Price

Her octaves are more of an earthy nature

Her pitch, pace and power

Resounds in your ears more than twice

 

Her essence

Evokes shivers

As her words cascade from her being

I close my eyes

In simulated spell

All that my mind should be seeing

 

Finishing off

With an elated cry

Of jubilation

She leaves the audience

On a natural high

Rocking the building off its foundation

 

The elderly

Wipe tears from their eyes

As they proclaim

Her performance was stellar

Music could not have done her better justice…

All glad she vocalized this song..

 

Acappella

 

Reviews

[EmpressPoetess]

Awesome telling here!Written so well I could visualize this scene in my head and hear her commanding voice.. Great job!!

[Lady V]

Beautiful and enchanting poem. It pulls from all of the essence of a woman. I applaud you on this one.


Live, Love and Learn

Lady V