Poetry-Thing Thursday: Infinite Shore

On and on,
the song is long,
and it’s clear to my ears,
that the tune is all wrong.

The notes don’t quite fit,
and the rhythm is off,
the melody’s rigid,
and the percussions all cough.

But in the end,
its better than nothing,
for silence is golden,
but music platinum.

Page after page,
the book fails and stumbles,
and its obvious to my mind,
that the author’s voice rumbles.

The pace is too jagged,
with words too verbose,
like a dammed river not flowing,
and characters too close.

But in the end it’s better,
than no imagination,
for silence is gold,
but the mind is soothed by libation.

Scene after scene,
the play must go on,
but even to my uncultured eyes,
the director’s a moron.

The stagehands aren’t ready,
and no-one’s on cue,
and the sound guys are sleeping–
the lighting team too.

But it’s better than nothing,
I’ll say it once more,
for silence is golden,
but art an infinite shore.