Squeeze box

I think I am getting up,
I think I might rise:
The sound of music coming from
My neighbor’s house is not exactly a lullaby;
And I am pure insanity!

So he who plays the wood box
Square in a chair by a window seat,
I would hope be almost too heavy to lift,
Or would lockup;
But whatever the music means,

I pray would dissolve into thin air.
He shapes and misshapens it
Like a melon strolling on two tendrils;
I am writhing my hands in fortitude,
I am boarding the train for an institute

And there is no getting off!
By doing so, that hideous sound
Would ignore me immediately;
But my neighbor stares quite indignantly,
For you see he is tone-dead.

Copyright © 11/22/18 lance sheridan®
Squeeze box

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41 comments on “Squeeze box

  1. Tin says:

    Me gusta cómo escribes. Y hasta traducido al español queda chulo. Mi enhorabuena.

  2. Tin says:

    Thanks a lot, Poet.

  3. Anna says:

    It’s the music that goes around, the one that has no future, it will be in our head a damn wall” Sorry for the reference to a song by Ivano Fossati (Italian songwriter), but this has brought it to your mind. , Lance 🙂

  4. Nahid Khan says:

    Enjoyed every bit of it. Love the way you conjure up stark images.

  5. gatesinlife says:

    Hello there! Thank you very much for following my blog! As you can see, I am pretty new to this site, so at any time please feel free to drop in for a visit. Feedback of any type is of course welcome. I also look forward to visiting your site and taking a look at your work. 🙂 For following me, my promise is to A) Follow you back, and B) Visit your page frequently to provide feedback and/or support. I love having a good sense of community through writing, so you will likely find me on various community blog posts in the near future. Have a great day!

    • Hello! You’re quite welcome! And, many sincere thanks for following my blog! The same here- very much looking forward to reading more of your writing. Will be glad to. Thanks, have a great day as well!

  6. The poem and the illustration work very well together!

  7. Yep. I’ve had neighbors like that. LOL

  8. MOMENTS says:

    A beautifully written poem as always, Lance. We humans are born creators, weavers of poetry lines, artists painting sorrowful rivers or suns reflected on waves of a new dawn… photographers of all lights and shades, sculptors of graceful objects and delicious human bodies, humble dancers like myself veiling and unveiling perceived realities and states of mind, body and soul…ahh… musicians! Where to learn to play music and keep practicing without disturbing your neighbors? I partly feel sorry for the musician being labelled as the official annoyer (which is sadly true). Can this person continue to improve his musical potential skills without being a nuisance to others? At another place, another time of the day? Do our cities provide enough places for wannabe musicians? The end of your poem makes me smile: “he is tone-dead”, because it may well have a second meaning when read aloud: “he is stone-dead”.

  9. Fantastic way to express frustration-excellent! Thank you

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