Prompt: write a “concrete” poem – one in which the lines and words are organized to take a shape that reflects in some way the theme of the poem.
it’s
not easy to
start playing
to find the
will to
keep
up the
daily
runs of
finger
on fret
or even
in any
week
to find
some
time to
practice
switching between chords
memorizing with muscles more
than with the attentiveness of mind
until you reach a place of comfort
where your hand moves independently
of the commands of the brain
and you . . . . . . . are able
to sing . . . . . . . without
taking a moment’s thought
from whence the words are coming
or to where they go once departed
when the melodies become streams
of your own unfettered consciousness
the music a window into your
breathless soul