An ensemble is nothing without a director.
He is that magic intensity injector.
He can make a murmuring chord
Pass through his hands,
Tug at our hearts and excite our glands.
The words are his allies, preparing the way
For the rushing train, from its path not to stray.
He uses his eyes, his feelings to send in;
We are the cars, but he is the engine.
------- Author's Notes -------
This poem is dedicated to my chorus director who so energated my life. I had to invent a word for the title.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Meridian (188.8.131.52) -- Monday, November 8 2004, 08:09 pm|
Now this is the first poem I read about a music director, performing all that you've typed at the same time! Now, that's what I call talent!
Nice one Webster!
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