Watch me as I make this up.
I’m not a music prodigy.
My left hand wants to stray to right.
My right hand has no say.
I’m not a music prodigy.
Arthritis makes my left hand hurt.
My right hand aches too much to romp.
No wonder I can’t play.
Arthritis makes my left hand hurt.
My right hand’s bones are in decay.
No wonder I can’t play.
Perhaps I should just soak my head.
My right hand’s bones are in decay.
I drop my notes and casseroles.
Perhaps I should just soak my head.
Piano may not be for me.
I drop my notes and casseroles.
My left hand wants to slap my right.
Piano may not be for me.
Watch me as I walk away.
Comments 2
Because my daughter’s friend sat at my piano and beautifully played a piece I wrangled with, I gave the piano to a much older acquaintance whose grandchildren pound on it. This gives me much satisfaction as does this poem, my first reading of a pantoum.
Author
Thank you, Marie! You are so generous to give your piano to your friend! I’m sure the piano wafts notes of love to you from those grandchildren.
The pantoum is a form I discovered last year, and it’s lots of fun. If you ever want to try it: https://www.writebetterpoems.com/articles/how-to-write-a-pantoum#:~:text=The%20pantoum%20is%20a%20poem,pattern%20of%20repetition%20of%20lines