Summer school poems.

Went along to the wonderful / intense Kodály Summer School (singing/musicianship). Felt a bit sad / useless one night and then wrote a lot of poems. Here are a few.

Empty chairs, crowded stage

For a moment I become you. I’m in your shoes and they fit. My seat empties while I touch the stage, but just for a little bit.

You’re young and I feel younger. Your eyes as bright as mine. With the same dreams and ambitions, only at a different time.

“You can do it when you want to” “You’ve got so much choice ahead” And so many paths to dreaming, Chose the easy one instead.

The stage isn’t the biggest, but the smile you give might be, You got it right stood under lights that’ll never shine for me.

For a moment I become you, see your teacher’s guiding stares, and then see souls becoming you from a hundred other chairs.

I hear a voice beside me “that was great”, then “shall we go?”, And our applause was only yours, and our moment just a show.

By the stage door for a second more I’m with you til you blink, For a moment I became you and was happier, I think.

A Fighting Love

Ours is a fighting love Oh ours is a fighting love It’s always growls and hissing But I’d rather just be kissing you Why is ours always a fighting love?

It always ends in sorrys and then hugs, It always ends in sorrys and then hugs. We act like thugs not heartstring tugs, I’d rather just be kissing you. And I’d rather lose the sorrys keep the hugs.

It’s always whirlwinds flying through the room. It’s always whirlwinds flying through the room. The devil’s doom the witches broom, I’d rather just be kissing you. And be shelter not a whirlwind in the room.

I’d hate to lose you

Everyone keeps saying we should try it. You look at me and keep on wondering “when?”. I see those eyes all occupied with love but none comes back to you, When I think of how I’d screw it up “what then?”

We go out and it is always just us laughing, We click but never stick it’s there then not. Alone, and you think “here’s the chance!”, but never a returning glance, Rather hurt a friend a little, Than hurt one true love a lot.

You grab me and you say it, But I flee into the night, I’d hate to lose you as a friend I’m thinking that I might.