Revised Changed to THE STORM: A POEM FOR TWO VOICES Jill

[jill stockinger]

Dear Bob, I think your idea of two separate voices is perfect for this poem.

I tried to create the format so it is clear what parts each of the two different voices would say.

I liked the idea for the last two stanzas, of having two people SPEAKING one line each, AT THE SAME TIME.

So that is the only time BOTH voices are speaking at once, when one person is saying, "power the storm into a ferocious killing force."

and the other person is saying the line, "In ecstasy, the conductor waves his black baton, summons" at the Exact Same Time.

I am going to place the poem here, in the body of the email, but the formatting may NOT HOLD. However,

I HAVE ATTACHED IT AS A pdf (a picture!) so the formatting WILL show correctly.  

Definitely open the attached PDF to see it as it is meant to appear on a page.  Thank you. Jill

                          The Storm: A Poem for Two Voices       by Jill Stockinger

Trees start to bend,

their tops lightly shaken like rattles

in the hands of a hesitant child.

 

                                                 Stands and instruments are repositioned.

                                                 Music pages rustle as they are turned. 

 

 

Birds fly, their cries lost in the wind.

They are looking for a safe place

to face the coming storm.

 

                                                  Stray notes sound as musicians tune their instruments.

                                                  An undercurrent of tension and excitement fills the air.

 

 

Forked lightning flashes

semaphores of warning;

bright notes demand attention.

 

                                                  Blinking lights signal to the audience to be seated;

                                                  musical lightning bolts arouse attention.

 

 

The temperature drops precipitously.

With rolling claps of thunder,

the symphony of the storm begins.

 

                                                  Loud is the strident clashing of cymbals,

                                                  striking again and again. 

 

  

The relentless sheets of pounding rain

and the frenzied explosion of gale winds

power the storm into a ferocious killing force.   In ecstasy, the conductor waves his black baton, summons

                                                                             a steady percussive beat and then demands all instruments

                                                                             play furiously, unleashing an overwhelming storm of sound.