Because we all want to write more poems.
practice
my husband can be found
of an evening, these days
playing the harmonica
for an hour or so.
tonight he said "I've decided
I will play every night. For practice."
such a thing
has never occurred before in our house:
the practicing of an instrument
every day.
it's something I used to do
when I was a teenager,
sitting down at the piano
every after-school afternoon.
it was joy, independence,
freedom. mine alone.
the piano.
now, in our home,
we have a keyboard
but I rarely use it.
I still like playing
but the joy has given way
to a kind of bewilderment,
because I don't know where
the passion to play went.
I fantasize sometimes
that we will make room
for a real, upright piano,
wooden, with tall keys that travel
and feel like real piano keys
because they are.
yet also when I was a teenager
I used to write poems
on a long sheet of paper
in a spiral notebook
with a pen,
and that was joy;
now I write poems
on an electronic keyboard
and that is joy, too.
but the daily habit
was long gone.
now you can find me
of an evening, these days
writing poems.
for practice.
for the joy of it.
- Jennifer Dixey's Shared Poems
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Comments
Jennifer Dixey
January 23, 2012
Permalink
I know this isn't actually poem.
It's just something I felt like saying.
Neil McKay
January 23, 2012
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I have an upright piano
I never play it but my son does once in a while. I even got the sheet music I learned in the 70s - The Entertainer and Send In the Clowns, which I was pretty good at. But I too have lost the passion. I used to play guitar a lot too. Now I just feel like I should be doing something else.