Divorce Bard's Blog

...Iambic pentameter is for the ear. Read it out loud.

Divorce Bard

Divorce Bard
Location
pretty how town, USA
Birthday
February 13
Bio
While the ashes of marriage #2 were cooling, I began a journal here in verse, to keep myself out of trouble. So far so good, and one day at a time. I took a hiatus this past January, and I missed it terribly. Writing daily had changed the way I think - not my opinions, but the process of thinking itself. So here I am back again, and hungry. I began with three rules: (1) Iambic pentameter, (2) Perfect rhyme, and (3) It had to be true (no hyperbole). I hereby amend rule number 3: If I'm writing about myself, yes, it has to be true. But it doesn't, if I want to tell a story.

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OCTOBER 15, 2010 12:04AM

Beginner Band. Thursday Oct 14, 2010

Rate: 14 Flag

My daughter has begun to play trombone.
Viola wasn't really to her taste.
And still, if I say "practice," then she'll moan
And groan, and find a thousand ways to waste
The time, before she'll open up the case,
And put her book of music on the chair,
Then raise the brass and silver to her face,
Becoming just trombone, and cheeks, and hair.

I sit beside her, helping with her scales,
Or half of one, from B-flat up to F.
(Last year I sat and bit my fingernails -
I never learned to read viola clef.)

Tonight, a scrape - a sound I can't abide.
She happily took out her plastic vial,
Doled out two drops of magic to the slide,
And sent me back in time a little while:
You may not understand, unless you've spent
Some time in love with heralds, of a kind.
The metal, and the slide oil, and its scent,
Leave tracings of a happiness behind.

She may or may not take to this cologne.
To me, it smells of being nearly grown.

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Comments

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I love the rhythm and rhyme of this one. Really a cool poem.
rated with love
Beautiful, as usual.

PS: What's the definition of an optimist? A trombone player with a beeper.

What's the definition of an old musician? A guy with a bunch of musician jokes where the punch line depends on outdated technology.
Finding her own way, your little one is, but glad to have you just beside, just knowing you are there. Lovely beginnings here.
"Becoming just trombone, and cheeks, and hair."

love this line! and the tone of the poem draws me in
wonderful that a parent takes the time, oh so wonderful!
Wonderful, like Vanessa, that one line snagged me right in :).

Rated for when to guide and when to support.
your parenting pieces make the role very alluring.
"The metal, and the slide oil, and its scent,
Leave tracings of a happiness behind."
I love this the most. Not to pick your poem apart my other favorite line to which I'm beaten is:
"Becoming just trombone, and cheeks, and hair."

Rated.
A little poetic taste of an experience that I have never had.
Great. Played the French horn forrrrever! Yes the smell triggers that certain somethin' somethin'.
A wisp of beautiful memories past and a gossamer glimpse of the future.

As always, DB, so wonderful is your poetry.
Hi RomanticPoetess, Ken, anna1, vanessa, Seer, hugs, Renatta, Fusun, Brassawe, tg, and Kate.

My ex-wife has begun her performance season, which means the kids will have extended stays with me, which means I go to an exhausted place, almost daily.

Please accept my heartfelt thanks for coming by and reading, and my apology for not being able to give you better than this thank-you. Thank you.

Goodnight!
I'm also quite taken with the image of

Then raise the brass and silver to her face,
Becoming just trombone, and cheeks, and hair.

Enjoy.
Loved it DB and good for you that your getting more extended time with the kids - tiring as it may be - it's gone all too fast.
I concur, enjoy the time, it is all too brief! Your taking an interest, helping will always be recalled. I know.
Band is such a bonding experience. You know all the smells and sounds of the various instruments, and they take on their own personalities along w/ those who master them best. I never achieved All-State Band, but had many friends who did. The music becomes the master at times...