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I would if I could I’d make a poem

Auditions

I would if I could I’d make a poem
the best you have ever seen
Then you’d see me as I see you
when I see your heart in me

I know I’ll need all the right words
and all in their proper places
I may also need a miracle, If
I’m to capture your embraces

I arranged to hold auditions
but so many words applied
‘big ones pushing to the front
the small ones knocked aside

Piled high in the wings together
all contending for position
Each one claiming a special
gift, an emotion or a mission

Some claimed subtleties of meanings
beyond their usage or their years
Others claimed ‘lyrical syncopation’
like some lexiconic engineers

One insisted – it could offer
Rhythm, Rhyme and alliteration
And simile and harmony
and a yet more syncopation

Those that failed were outraged
making war on the chosen few
in the end my poem collapsed
when they tore the thing in two

As I walked out at the end of the day
with my dreams of love deflated
I saw you with them in a bar nearby
singing a song that they’d created…..

…………………….My piccolo is a big oboe
…………………….beside your synthesizer
…………………….so bang my drum
…………………….and I’ll bite your bum
…………………….and we’ll have fun for hours

What do you mean?
The hell you were?
What, you were auditioning me?
What's he got that I don't?

…………………….My piccolo is a big oboe
…………………….beside your synthesizer
…………………….so bang my drum
…………………….and I’ll bite your bum
…………………….and we’ll have fun for hours

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