Although I do not listen to Wagner, Verdi, Mozart, Bizet and so many other incredible composers often enough, I dearly love opera and classical music. Unfortunately, I know quite a few people who approach opera and poetry with the same trepidation and incomprehension. My opinion is that opera is the voice of the soul, whereas poetry is the breath. Natural and necessary – and sometimes oh so beautiful.
So, here is a poem for tonight – written off the cuff at 11:31pm, so bear with me!
Wagner With a V
The fat lady sings
Her armor lifts and falls with the scales.
She blasts out the cry
As I child, the soaring, reaching arias
Spoke to me
Bellowed for me when I could not
Iron-strong words ablaze with the searing heat of
The fat lady sings of all that lies quiet and waiting
Raw and honest