Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “[W]rite a memory poem. This is one of my favorite prompts, because all writers can take a moment to dig through their own personal memories to find a moment (or several moments) to remember and write. The memory could be from your childhood, a year ago, a month ago, or even from earlier this week.”
Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “[W]rite a poem that recounts an experience of your own in hearing live music, and tells how it moves you. It could be a Rolling Stones concert, your little sister’s middle school musical, or just someone whistling – it just needs to be something meaningful to you.”
Today I offer a curtal sonnet mashing up the two prompts.
Earth, Wind & Fire / Chicago / and You
—for Renee
Your eyes twinkled in the half dark before
Earth, Wind & Fire exploded into light,
their sharp R&B swinging us back to
bellbottoms and platform shoes. And then more:
Chicago’s kickass rock lit up the night.
Mellow horns and brilliant guitar breaks blew
fireworks in the theater. Remember
when both bands took the stage together? Right
to "25 or 6 to 4" — bright brew,
magic stew. Best part of that memory,
though . . . I was with you.
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Chicago and Earth. Wind & Fire have been touring together for years. It was 10 years ago that my son Marty and I saw that double bill in Indiana. And then last year in Minneapolis, my partner Renee and I saw the two bands together. Always a great show.
Something I noticed, as a bass player: when both bands are on stage together, only one bassist is playing in any song — either EWF's Verdine White or Chicago's Jason Scheff in 2015 and Eric Baines in 2024. And sometimes the bassist at any point is playing the other band's song, like in 2024, when we saw Verdine White playing bass on "25 or 6 to 4."
Members of Earth, Wind & Fire and Chicago
on stage together in 2016. (The Wichita Eagle)
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Alan's poem fulfills both prompts with a heartwarming story.
Tuesday Evening, Yee Haw Brewery,
We Watch While We Play
The first time that I joined the jam, my choice
I made while taking ethnomusicology
and wanting to do more than just observe,
to be a part, commitment to a group,
he was not there, but they all spoke of “Doc,”
affectionately “Doc,” who was accused
of slipping maybe once a third when he
competed in two-finger rounds, denied
with near profane expostulations once
I got to meet him, what a banjo man,
and what a life of stories that he told—
I instantly liked him, generous and sly
and good the way some folks still manage good.
A younger man, he played all over, played
with famous folks before they made a name,
and taught some players getting started here
in bits of Appalachia that we love.
I can’t remember when I met him first.
It’s been some years. I don’t remember when,
but I remember how it feels when our
small circle can be close or might expand
to welcome who might come and play with us.
He plays guitar far more than banjo now.
Of late, we watch as much as listen, ask
him how he is with earnest care, and hope
that he will play again this week. He can’t
stay with us quite as long as he once could,
an hour's worth, at most, and then heads home.
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks!
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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1 comment:
Lots of “feels” today - loved them both. I think you’ll like my music themed poems from yesterday and today too.
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