Thread: And the Band Plays On

A tiny marching band
equipped with cleats
holds practice
on a field of flesh
doing drills daily
three years straight.

Dedicated diminutive drummers
never miss a note nor grow weary
as every beat bounces
off battered bones until I'm submerged
in agonizing reverberations.

The slide of trombones
make their presence known,
either subtly or full blown,
while missed batons
poke and perforate shattered skin.
Breath hitches to the rhythm
of a sadistic showtune.

The lilt of flutes
comes in waves
coaxing torn muscles
into spasmodic dance.
Each kiss of stick
upon xylophone key
entices a flinch
and too familiar squint.

The blare of trumpets
induces stammers
as wails fail to translate to words
while the band plays on,
and on, and on.
With never a game to go to,
rehearsal never ceases.
Lord how those cleated feet
love to stomp
and kick up clods
of a pasture past its prime.

Inner music isn't always melodious.
Sweet silence,
why have you forsaken me?

I found this very moving and sad in the sense that the band, a medical problem I take it, can't be escaped. I like how you show that, whatever it is (part of me thinks migraines, arthritis, or something worse), it's ever-present, whether "subtly or full blown". I think a band is a great metaphor(?) for this kind of ailment and situation. Liked the poem alot. Rich words and imagery.
-cae

Your metaphor is absolutely brilliant and unique. The marching band from hell, your ailments. I know your sad story and it amazes me how you're able to step outside of yourself and produce such good work.

I especially took to this:

Each kiss of stick
upon xylophone key
entices a flinch
and too familiar squint

Each kiss of a stick!

As always, your poems bring me alive. Funny or sad. Laurie

I'm finding it difficult to express how I feel about this poem without commenting the usual, clichéd 'beautiful's and 'wonderful's. Brutal honesty here in the form of the metaphor really draws a deep sympathy from the reader, and that gives a near-perfect effect to read the poem under.

The way it is written is perfect. The imagery is striking and thought-provoking, with a rich vocabulary put to good use without distracting from the flow with long-winded words.

Breath-taking, and one I will be reading again for pleasure a long time after this.

I think your use of metaphor here is superb, Lisa! The opening stanza actually made me cringe as I imagined the feelings. Then you hit me again when I reached this stanza:

The lilt of flutes
comes in waves
coaxing torn muscles
into spasmodic dance.
Each kiss of stick
upon xylophone key
entices a flinch
and too familiar squint.

Then a smile with this one, all be it a sad smile.

Lord how those cleated feet
love to stomp
and kick up clods
of a pasture past its prime.

Then the ending broke my heart, just a little.

Inner music isn't always melodious.
Sweet silence,
why have you forsaken me?

You've out done yourself with this one, Lisa.

I've thought long and hard whether to do what I'm about to, but I think a peek into my world will let people understand me better. Caelum, you hit the nail on the head with arthritis, systemic RA diagnosed when I was eleven. It was manageable until '96, and then it hit every joint, big and small, including both jaws and my spine. Fate, being the contrary bitch she is, wasn't satisfied with just that, so three years ago she threw me a curve. Misdiagnosed Diverticulitis resulted in six inches of dead colon which literally rotted and infected all of my abdominal organs then made its way into my bloodstream. I should have died but God has plans for me. I had a lovely colostomy for seven months which was successfully reversed. The lining of my stomach is destroyed, only scar tissue remains, my abdominal wall refuses to stay sutured, so next month they are going to install mesh to keep my guts where they belong, I look about six months pregnant because the only thing holding my intestines in is my skin. Seven layers may seem a lot, but not when you have to depend on stomach flesh mapped with scars to keep your innards in. Pain, I know, it never leaves me, hence the piece. Quite frankly, I thought it would bomb, am super glad it didn't.

Dear Caelum, Am elated at your words, and as I've already said, you called it right. Metaphor is correct. I always likened the pain in my belly to a marching band parading with cleated feet, that it could translate enough to move you made me ecstatic.


My dearest Laurie, who listens to me bitch and moan, I thank God daily for the benefit of your ears, or rather eyes. If I didn't step outside, I'd drown in self pity, not acceptable. I firmly believe that the only thing that has saved my sanity is this site and the people she calls her own. That I could stir you such brought me great joy. As to your favorite, I'm very pleased, used kiss because as it is so incongruous in that respect. Love you dearly, Laurie, you've been my support beam more times than you will ever know.


Dear SoNickSays, Your reaction to this piece was a blessing for me. I didn't think anyone would get it in the way that I had hoped. You quelled those fears. Such lovely words make it easier. You brought tears to eyes that have long been destitute, thank you with every fiber of my being.

I could write a thousand paragraphs in thanks and it still wouldn't be enough. Thank you, my dear fellow poets, may God shine his light upon you now and always.

Warmest,
Lisa

I'm really sad to hear of your plight, Lisa. I sincerely hope everything works out for you. I really do. Your bravery is inspiring.
yours, -cae

Oh Lisa, amid your pain you have managed to pull all the right strings. And your writing? A parade of excellently chosen words! Not the cleats this time.

I tried picking up my favorite parts but it seems I loved just about every bit of it. Chilling and sad.

Don't worry, Lisa. God, the Maker and Painter of the Skies knows and will heal you soonest. Amen.

I'm so sorry for the delay, my friends. As most of you know, my laptop died and all I was able to do is pop on for a few minutes on my son's computer for almost a week. There are many pieces I have to catch up on, whomever I missed, I'll be around as soon as I can. As fate would have it, they just brought home a carload of groceries which need tending. Rotten contrary kids.


Dear Cindy, We were posting simultaneously so I missed you first time around. I am so happy that the metaphor has been so well received, I honestly thought it would flop and I was worried that the entire piece would do the same for I fear it is too self indulgent. Nope, I didn't think it would work for others at all. I am elated it did for some. Glad for that smile, love, you know how much I love to poke fun at these things. Love ya, my dear friend, you know the entire story and like Laurie have given me a place to rest when I feel too weary to go on with your abundant support and kindness.


Dear Caelum, So very kind of you to return with good wishes. I'm not brave at all, hon, I don't have a choice. If I had been given an option I would have said "No thank you" and took off for the hills.

Dear Fox, Your eloquent words moved me to tears, so very beautiful. Your use of parade was oh so very clever and put a beaming smile on my face that grew tenfold with your final line. Many thanks, kind sir, and I so very glad you liked the piece.

May God bless and keep you all for your empathy, support and kindness. I truly appreciate your allowing me to vent, siphoning off a little steam keeps the boiler from exploding.

All my best, always,
Lisa