Musicians play a song over the wasteland left by Katrina. (style: ZYX AlphA) |
AlphA: an alphabet poem that has no set Rhyme or Meter. Each line starts and ends with the same letter. The lines can run A-Z or Z-A. Zydeco infused jazz Yelps, yowls with all it has, pumping frantically; Xiphoid notes pierce, then bend, wending from a sax, Wading, wondering like melted wax. A feverish windflaw Vibrates through vacant venues. The rhythm starts to rev, Undulating violently beyond the new bayou -- Testament to the tempest’s torrent. Still, the syncopated symphony searches; Refusing rest, it lunges, lurches; rescuing all that hear, Quickly pursuing ears. Steering downstream on wind’s umiaq, Pulsating, rocking to and back, it seeks companionship. Oblivious to nature‘s violence, a ghostly echo No storm can silence, it navigates the empty town. Music soothes the savage beast, mends with rhythm, Lulls, at least; leaping to ease hearts on the heal, Keeping us upright when we would kneel before the sleek Jester’s mask of glaring steel: Disguised Despair -- the dreaded raj. Iron willed, he bears a barrage of wearing waves, headed by his rani. He and she both simple knaves, shredded by heartsong’s brawny wrath. Growing stronger the steaded jazzmen keep playing; Freedom flowing, winding, sashaying from each riff. Eventually finding favor in a family that has withstood the hurricane, Dogging a skiff through what now remains of their neighborhood. Calmed by the song in the air, in their hearts, they drink in the tonic Beats with aplomb and depart; thankful despite their sorrow, they did not succumb. Another day, another tomorrow . . . They have overcome Katrina. |