But Yields, If the Key’s Forthcoming



Holy Mozart! Miracles dropped in my lap.
A large audition-room for music;
On the stage, the Cadillac of grand pianos
Beckoning seductively, the master of the hall,
Abandoned, yet unlocked.
Its spirit voiced its siren call:
Aspiring musician, here you belong!
It wanted, needed a massage, ten fingers strong,
Intent on pouring out the harmonies
Confined misguidedly, intent on sweetening
Each dormant molecule of oxygen
As musical confection,
Enkindling ambient space with deep affection.

Human weakness is my forte;
And my strength, piano.
Hard the bench? I felt it not.
Duty called---you dared not let that keyboard rot!
A chord struck on the strings so finely tuned
Unleashed the sounds of heaven (you’d have swooned)
From a consonance ingratiating
Till it ached, it glowed,
It pierced the soul, it promised perpetuity.
Improvisation irresistible traversing all the keys in ingenuity,
Some major, minor, certain modes
Forgotten since the fiercest warriors of Rhodes
Strummed on the lyre and cithara,
An echo to Homeric odes declaimed to Helens
Elegant in pearls and onyx.

The hall awoke, yet reeled delirious in resonance of tonics.
A new veneer of sounding bliss
Now clung to walls like vintage gobelins,
Absorbing dominants, submediants,
diminished sevenths---
Instrumental deep-throat kiss.
Newly linked, we found nirvana.
Undetected, tip-toeing I stole away,
Ensnared in afterglow array
Illuminating hearts and minds uniquely bright
With sonic embers prevalent
Beyond the fall of night.

---Opera Rehearsal Hall, St. Louis

©2012 by Paul Hertelendy. This column first posted July 23, 2012.

Paul Hertelendy is critic and webmaster for the arts-review web site, and is also the Piedmont (CA) Centennial poet laureate. To visit his website, click here: PAUL

You can comment on this column online. Please address your email message to either "The Editors" or Paul Hertelendy at : Syndpack




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