Sharps and minors, flats and majors.

Clefs, wholes, halves.

This army of music marches on me.

Relentless in its pursuit of me.


Twisting, turning, swirling,

Its substance changing,

Solid becomes liquid,

Its tide approaches.


Beats thump against me,

Bass, snare hit me.

Driving into my chest,

I am a willing casualty.


The tide rolls in,

The breakers engulf,

Rolling to the shore,

Where I stand unprotected.


Instruments turn their output,

Toward me without regard,

Amplified and battering,

Aimed squarely; I in their cross hairs.


Sands begin to erode,

Footing is becoming tenuous.

I am washed out to sea,

Into musical depths.


Now entombed in euphony,

A harmonious sea.

Where I will drift happily,

Throughout a consuming eternity.


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About John White

I've written off and on my entire life. It took years for me to finally take putting words together seriously. Now it's not, nor does it ever feel, like work. Writing daily has become habitual. No day is complete without words having appeared on the page.

Posted on October 2, 2014, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.

  1. Optimize, Coalesce

    I heavily dig this metaphor. Are you improvising or just listening?

    • At the time I wrote this I was listening to a pretty varied playlist. I’ve always loved music of all kinds and that evening listening with eyes closed just struck me in a way that I wanted to write about it. Thanks for the comment!

  2. Wonderful read! Thanks for following me, I have just done the same. Any suggestions on how to achieve proper stanza and other spacing when posting to this site? Unfortunately, I am not versed in html or any coding languages, so I’ve been posting using the “visual” format.

    I may just have to nab your clever notion of using Roman numeric to denote stanza and breaks.

  3. Conjures up some great images. I really enjoyed this.

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