Poetry, Music’s ugly sister

(image courtesy of parnassusreview.com)

Poetry has always been music’s ugly sister
younger, wiser but never got the boy’s attention
no one ever dedicated her in their letters
or let her words play softly on a vinyl record player
as lovers entwined their bodies consuming each other

Poetry has always been music’s silent sister
she never showed off in wild staccato to relatives
or made them dance themselves to a stupor
during family gatherings
or made boys ask her to dance
for her fair skin
long silky hair
and a smile of beats, horns and trumpets
that made the rain shine and the red blue

Poetry has always been music’s mis-understood sister
she rarely speaks but when she does
her words are a meal one has to keep feeding on
every time with a different taste to the mouth
some sweet on the tongue yet
burn the throat
filling the stomach
sometimes, too much for comfort

Poetry has always been music’s nurturing sister
filling her with meaning to life
for hers was always an empty house of rhythm
men always fell for

funny how she-music, always seemed to fall for the bad boys
who turned around and called her bitch

Poetry settled for less
like her
a man in touch with his soul
who loved reading
a vegetarian who thought more but spoke less,
had a gallery full of abstract art
loved going on long walks in the wild
And so Poetry and music grew apart
music become the mother of abuse of her own kind
by the same men she made happy
stripping her bare
dancing to her own videos naked

They only meet occasionally
like most families during weddings and funerals

when they do,
everyone talks about it for years on end

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