Well, I'm finally writing poems again...
I'm quite nervous about this actually. See, I can't tell if my writing is any good or not - ever. Concrit would be lovely. I feel I am developing an obsession with "How to" titles.
How to Play Dirty
You're sitting
With the saxophones.
Lump of metal
Moulded in a curve of perfection.
Playing perfection.
Your eyes bulge slightly,
Shoulders move to the beat.
Foot taps.
One-two, one-two.
Cut time.
The conductor says
Play dirty.
We play.
The flutes snicker shrilly,
The epitome of their instruments.
You thrust your chest foward,
Flirting with your instrument,
Playing dirty.
Mellow melody.
Who'd have thought
A lump of metal could say anything?
Dirty
-Aimee
*runs and hides*
How to Play Dirty
You're sitting
With the saxophones.
Lump of metal
Moulded in a curve of perfection.
Playing perfection.
Your eyes bulge slightly,
Shoulders move to the beat.
Foot taps.
One-two, one-two.
Cut time.
The conductor says
Play dirty.
We play.
The flutes snicker shrilly,
The epitome of their instruments.
You thrust your chest foward,
Flirting with your instrument,
Playing dirty.
Mellow melody.
Who'd have thought
A lump of metal could say anything?
Dirty
-Aimee
*runs and hides*