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Cheyenne Yacono May 2017
Click clack click*
We left the comfort of the amethyst curtain
Onto the stained wooden stage
The room is wide and filled with echoes
I stare into the red seats where identical faces sit
They show no emotion and I want them to feel
Feel anger, joy, sadness, something
My instructor paces across the stage towards the microphone
Hello
Suddenly the words that were to follow turn into muffles
All I can hear is my heart beat
They sound like quarter notes
The muffles end once my instructor is back in my sight
He exhales and smiles
The burning lights make him look like a god
He raises the baton and I forget everything
1...2...3...
We play the keys robotically but we breathe humanity
The notes trace our fingers and play your heart strings
Our slurs curve your lips into a smile
We want you to feel joy
We want you to remember childhood memories
It's not just kids with instruments
There are stories being told
We put our life into the instruments
We remember being called fools
And how we were wasting our time
We tell you our stories through these notes
Hoping you will feel what we felt
But we'll never know until the final note
When the baton goes down and we bow to the crowd
It's exhilarating
K Balachandran Apr 2017
On spread palm fronds, wind
trumpets monsoon's onset loud,
await fireworks soon!
Puffs of thistledown
floating in the air.

Lovely lady
dark blue plums
and the tracery of lace.

'Toot' says a trumpet
to the cry from a clarinet.

Tinkling piano notes
flowing
lilting, rippling, fleeting
fleeing.

Bows, strings and violins.

Echoes of yesterday
fading into grey.
Patrick H Sep 2014
Ambrose
Ah-kin-
MOO-sir-ee
Lifts a trumpet to his mouth.
Deep breaths blow notes
at right angles
into space.
The sound is worn denim.
The sound is Lauren Bacall.
The beat is urgent and syncopated
just like his last name.

Ambrose
Ah-kin-
MOO-sir-ee
Rests a trumpet by his side.
Reverb:
Ambrose interprets the persistence of sound;
reflections build up and decay
until the sound is absorbed
by the surfaces of this space.
Inhale.
Ambrose,
pulls the trumpet
To his mouth
once again.
Ambrose Akinmusire is a young jazz trumpet player.

— The End —