Sing a new song. —Psalm 144:9
That song I sang
so long, so long,
so brimming with
sincerity,
I hardly can
recall the tune …
though it was something
like duh dum,
duh dum, duh duh dum …
or was it duh dah dum
duh dah dum …
I almost forget
I knew the song
at all, except
today a strand
of tune wound round
my thoughts just like
a scarlet ribbon
tied around
the pinkie finger
reminding me
I should remember
something, something
once so vital,
so important
now a blurry
memory.
And then the errant
strand of tune
was gone. Gone?
How could it end?
I sang it everywhere
I went. I lost
myself in its glissando,
fermata, sforzando
and painississimo.
I sang it ferocious,
I sang it tender.
The song, it was
my everything,
That’s all I can
remember.
All those music terms near the end go a long way in cementing the authenticity of your relationship with the song — with song in general — with your “everything” and so that simple “That’s all I can remember” at the end counterpoints so well, its simplicity. As if all the fervor vanishes quite suddenly.
I like the trying to work out the duh dum section, though I think it could be toned and tightened, as I as reader don’t know the tune and can’t hear it as you wrestle with it. Small point though, duh dum. Perfect title.
tightening the duh dum! ba dah dum!
I agree with anon the specificity of the music terms grounds and strengthens the poem.
And, as poetry is Called to do, this one serves as strong, thorough metaphor. ¡Caramba! the things that once were not the center of my universe—they _were_ the universe. Now, I’m no longer lost in them; they’re lost from me. Qué lástima.
And so it goes.