#SonicSound

Location

Manteca, California
407 Lancaster Drive
United States
29° 34' 45.1452" N, 90° 45' 30.9492" W
In the back of my friend's truck
I sit,
With one hand on the black,
Noiseless amplifier.
The windows are up.
Outside, the weather
Is cold and biting,
And my other hand is in my pocket
For warmth.
Down the highway passing
Cars, passing lights.
On the radio;
Moving pictures.
 
The day before,
We were inside a garage.
With sweat, with fire,
We played.
By the end of it all
Our fingers were numb,
Our ears rang, our bodies trembled.
The growling guitars.
The booming bass.
The dominating drums.
This was sonic sound.
 
And there we were.
There to play to people. 
To connect. To share sound.
And we arrive, eager and ready.
Hours of practice, of music,
Fire and rage
Coursing through our veins.
And when we stand on that stage,
Instruments in hand,
And the lights shine down on us,
We play.
Sound that rips.
Sound that jolts.
Sound that dominates.
 
To see people move
And dance
And shout.
In that moment, we are masters
Of our craft.
The audience and the artist
Are one.
This isn't for money.
Hardly for fame.
But we do this for the love
Of music.
 
To a plea for peace,
To a plea for heroes,
To those who stand at bus stops
And play.
To a league of musicians,
To the honor of friends.
To a united  front.
This is sonic sound.
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741