Keith G. King Memorial Poetry - High School
FIRST PRIZE
Tacet al Fine Cassidy Wong
How does it feel to write a song you’ll never play To craft melodies Unheard The harmony is there, the percussion. Waiting expectant But the chorus never comes. A rather sad performance really
Some days my words are that symphony They come a beat too early Too late I try to gather them, I do But to no avail
Half rap, half melody My mind scribbles out a line I know I’ll never read Because the pen runs dry halfway through and there’s not a Moment to start new
Half the words unreadable Their ink smeared as I fumble for coherence A semicolon, but nothing follows but Silence
A pause here, a stutter, a word repeated Repeated too many times I miss a cue Syllables out of tune But the Melody keeps on and I can’t seem to Catch up
Tongue tied, though my tongue’s tried— I feel choked even though there’s air aplenty Words a scattered All the thoughts— figments I can’t grasp Can’t seem to make clear The April Perennial 15
