Dreams of Opera
House lights dim, velvet
drapes worn to sheeted
sheen, darkness parts, a
stuttered wave folds, much
as would trillings of
ancient sopranos
in a church choir let
loose Sunday mornings,
hearts making nearer,
thy god to thee.
Her eyes are lined
in the dark circles of
targeted sight,
cheeks burn and pulse,
teeth once yellow, glint.
Smudges are seen as scene,
artifice is art, she gathers
air deep, ribs barrel and grow,
reach to fill brocade
the color of starred night.
She drills one finite point
past expecting waves,
finds the back of the house.
They stand then sit, they
too draw, hold their breath
and rock, bobbing softly,
clothes rustle and settle
like preened feathers then
quiet, still. Red mouth
stretches, instrument,
not instrumental, silence
heaves suspended, breaks.
Primary and primal, narrative
lifted by melody arches,
tickles, moans and sighs.
She drapes each warm seat
in song and pulls in a new
breathe, breathing for all.
And lets them escape to sigh,
asking for more.
* * *
This week’s prompt at Read Write Poem suggests we look to dreams, sleeping dreams, for inspiration.
I go through phases of remembering my dreams. This week I’ve remembered more, and one was a lovely dream in which I won an audition. For a singing part. I can’t remember what part, musical, opera, chorus or soloist, but for my poem I imagined me as older and getting to sing an aria in a opera. Me, a big mezzo soprano. For me, it’s a lovely sleeping and waking dream.
Go here to see what others have been dreaming this last week or so.
Related posts:
I would like to hear your lovely singing voice in person one day!
Buy me enough drinks and you might just get to.
Actually, I stopped singing to go back to school, and am now so obsessed with poetry there’s little time to sing. I regret there is not enough time to do all I want to do. I miss singing.
Life. It’s good to be full of it.
I’m full of it, too. Just not life. :)
You have even more talents in the wings, deb… Maybe you’ll make us an mp3 of your singing. You could write your own song!
This poem is a work of art. THe sound of her voice comes alive, and she also becomes one with the audience. So many clear, evocative images. I love this poem!
(WD, when (if?) you come back this summer, lets make off with her and take turns buying her drinks. I’ve heard her read, & now I want to hear her sing too.)
she gathers
air deep, ribs barrel and grow,
reach to fill brocade
the color of starred night.
… are my favorite lines here. Lovely poem.
Yes, Dale! Drinks on me and you, the singing’s on Deb!!
I was thinking as I read the poem that I was sure this was written by another singer – good to find at the bottom of the post that I was right! I like the third verse and the idea of drilling one finite point across the audience – captures some essence of what it is to perform.
Anyway, lovely to hear the voice of another singer-poet!
“She drapes each warm seat
in song” has got to be one of the coolest images I’ve read in a long time! Wonderful poem!
You bring it to life.
I really enjoyed your wordplay in this! And the language, such interesting words. Very visual and descriptive! If I didn’t know the prompt, I would imagine a singer writing this from true experience.
Dale & WD. Sure, we can go have drinks this summer, but only where there is karaoke. I haven’t sung in over 3 years! My voice is oh so rusty!
Thanks to you all for your comments. I had a tough poetry week. (Class yesterday was, well, not my favorite poetry experience. Not bad exactly, but “growing”, if you know what I mean.) You all picking out lines you liked meant a lot to me, or even saying the dream was brought to life made me feel better about my writing life. Hugs to you all.
And lirone, how nice for you to be able to hear my intent. I was writing that stanza wondering who might understand it, and here you are! How lovely. What a boon!
very vivid!
I really felt like I was there. Excellent job!
“She drapes each warm seat in song”
I want to do that!