Monday, June 22, 2015

My Voice

photo by Bert Stern

My voice
cracked on the high notes tonight,
but I danced fires in the floor.
The ballads swooned sugar and noir.
The door
more
than covered our bar tab.  My voice

carried the horns tonight;
my tits held the hecklers in key.
Now, back in room 123-
another drink
and a laugh.
We weren't good,

but we weren't half bad.

For The Mag

14 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

Ah, this is great, MZ. Such a knowing telling of the story.

Sylvia K said...

Great it is indeed, as always, MZ!!

Sioux said...

Are there any videos from your singing days?

What a wonderful poem--full of voice and place.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Great details. Loved the end.

Fireblossom said...

I agree with Kerry. And this fits the mag pic perfectly.

DEE DEE said...

Nice take on the prompt

Kutamun said...

Any port in a storm !

Lolamouse said...

Sounds like a pretty good night!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Dancing fires on the floor sounds good......."we werent good but we werent half bad." Cool! Keep dancing, MZ.

Sandra said...

that sounds fair !

Michael said...

I enjoyed this. The right mix of realism

Helena said...

Really emjoyed this as I wen't down a similar path....well, hotel corridor perhaps..?☺

grapeling said...

i can't sing. i can barely talk. but you?... ~

Tess Kincaid said...

Fun!