Phantom's First Listen
With a book in his hand, Sitting behind a fake wall,
The Phantom was board, book, music and all.
The Theater was alive again, Scenery being built.
It seemed there was nothing to live for. Everything a tilt.
Then it came, the music, it was his.
He'd written it as a young man. When music was his biz.
Then the voices started, auditioning,
He listened with educated conditioning.
Some voices bland others fair,
He winced with an off key blare.
No he would not allow this farce,
Talented voices are sparse.
The Theater grew quiet, another voice sang,
In his heart, an old pang.
The voice reminded him of an old love.
Like an Angel from above.
This. This is the voice he knew.
Would sing his songs with a heart that's true.
He would train this one to fly.
Like the birds up in the sky.
Putting down his book, plans would be made.
He must have this lovely maid.
Her voice imprisoned his soul.
Now with his music, he would fill his role.
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11794702-Phantoms-First-Listen-by-Yeoman-McDade#sthash.QfHmXkjP.dpuf
- Poetry like this is very unique, and describing situations, and events. Music, sound, the sky and much many more images are displayed in this poem, and the sense of realism, is effortless.