Strings are where its’s At.
There is a sound that comes as close as it can
To the human voice, bow pulled firm over steel
A slide and a wail, pizzicato, jam it! on bluegrass, oh classy orchestra,
It’s the strings where it’s at, that catch me in the act
Sitting in my fine armless chair, head bent slight, left hand light
Horse hairs in my right
Prancing in my head to the rockin’ cadence
of singing strings, cuz Mozart was a
rocker back in his day, and now I am too.
— by Ava Hypatia, December 2016
Prompt: D’Verse poets ask us to make poetry with musical references.