The piano

After seeing the film of the same name, and further, writing a short essay on it, I felt compelled to write something more that addressed the voice (as it had become something of a fascination that transpired from my writing of it). Though the title explicitly speaks of a piano, it had originally begun as something relatively vain and autobiographical. Subversively, however, I believe it to be true of all artists in a sense.

My music is my voice,

it leaves my body

as I talk,

revealing what of me

I had kept within.

I construct my metre

with my mind

extending vowels and

consonants.

The songs I sing

are of many things,

and I articulate

at length

in a way

that only few

could ever do the same.

Is it my song

that keeps my company

enthralled?

For when those few

talk to probe me

and my voice is let

to fly,

my compatriots applaud me

and my lovers feel

desire.