Image borrowed from Bingstanzas stood still awaiting the cue
the entrance of the chanteuse
silent the audience waiting and wanting;
the more to scream
as Gossamer wings flapped;
angels certainly announced her
Bedecked in the finest costume
she entered our hallowed hall
as motes floated and flashing from argon footlights
those balconies lit the night's magic stardust;
in an atmosphere fantastic
as the static field cracked and popped
with expectant excitment
"tonight was the night of miracles for all
at The Opera Hall"
as the silvery voice emerged
the flesh-born coccoon exactly on key
the Maestro tapped twice to announce
and pay attention his baton
on the stand only taps twice!
The diva stood front and centre;
the performance of a lifetime
she swallowed nervously
as the swallow above her flew like a bat
"sing as if it t'were the last song ever to be sung"
she remembered his request
soon she'd be holding onto every sweet note
long past the midnight hour
as the moon romantically set
as she with the golden pipes could melt ears
she became quite grotesque
as her face enlarged; began to swell
and did begin to burst forth
"Such a sweet sound as ne'er been heard before"
No one seemed to notice her valent efforts as
corpulent material and spit
from heaving and heavy chest
pounded against a broken heart;
such emotion has never poured forth
to hear it's match on this liquid honey plane
an elixir to our senses that moment of expectation
as lungs filled to over-capacity and then released
sweet nectar enveloping us with a warm fluidity
keeping us safe; held us close
to her warm bosom of love
from the core of diva's fire
the diaphram's shook;
let loose it's diaphanous membranes
bellowed like a wolf in a volcano
releasing gases and juices
and loosening us from our chains
all who knew her sound knew
what to wear and when
don't come clad in solid elemental earthen ware
those bedecked in diamond necklaces
and golden baubles beware
like weighty shackles became the death knell
to the drowning fools
as she took us up with her;
higher up to the heavenly realms
where oxygen is more than rare
as we; to freely float on angel's wings;
she left us there
as this is how she did create her art
on the astral plane she staged her act
a play in two parts
Dante's Inferno or Heaven Can't Wait
she was nothing more than a genius;
her voice could do that!
as none could look away
so engrossed were we fledging beings
to become
all knew this diva's expiration date
would soon, like ours, seal our fate
"it's not over 'til the fat lady sings"
as all those murky memories
once sunk like a bulwark
now rising like a phoenix triumphant
she of the swan song of so long ago
spring renewal with every breath
"Sing little birdy sing" the Maestro extolled her
as she lept up in the air she kept us
a more than captive audience
she sung her song as we held
onto her every variation
her melodious range beyond any range
we've ever heard or been!
verses swirled and twirled
musica's most noted filagree
"Home Home on the range,
where the deer and the buffalo sing"
who knew the gifts she so soon would bring
as she bent to pick up the roses
to send her up after the show
the applause lauded her again night after night
diva sung an Aria divine
spreading her sounds on the set
upon her wispy feet
"A star is born"
after the final curtain came and went
and long after the rest went on their merry way
her own world revealed something
as up above revolved around diamond skies
suiting her up would be
an uncommon marriage of opposites
as those who loved and lived life
with gusto hung onto every musical line
and space that hung and clung onto mother
they stayed
hoping to hold onto her every note forever
like an apron string
The Opera House's reflection tonight
flicked in the rain and rippled and waivered
in the long extinguished footlights
the city coffers went Baroque
trying to revisit this phantom night
"The Maestro had left a paper
near the orchestra pit"
apparently to all who did hear
could see that this night
the notes had lifted from the pages
like life as a musical notation
the paper yellow'd and much mellow'd
thought to resemble someday
the old maestro's
corned beef on rye, anyone?
like the classic guitar he had pulled them
like a ham string
"all stops were pulled tonight;
houselights dim"
light as a feather we
the sound floated us
up past the rafters
past the balcony seats
we fly past half-notes
all those staccato'd time signatures
treble and bass clefs record the minuet
Maestro had certainly once considered
bound to sound like an endless bounty
heard stallions' hooves race over brooks
glisten to our listening ear
Synesthesia
"hold on tight Maestro called to all
while away, and all the while
we thought how could he, so coyly provide
this improvisional masterpiece
the notes practically lept from the page!
save the saving grace of our rapture
a place beset before the King
as those who were so enraptured
had sets the tone
finely tuned to the key of g
and the metronome finally melts down
perfecting the paradigm of the impossibile
our trembling hearts skip a beat
lulled by soothing sleep
to awaken suddenly
the clash of the titan tymphaneum
we are all awaiting the next oeuvre
the next opus of life's
unending crescendo!
"The Maestro has left the building!"
Jane Jones
aka: chiccoreal
Posted over on her site Chiccoreal
Listed as #92 over on Magpie Tales 48
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