Music

Easily with our ears picked But mostly with our Feet kicked: A skirting round a dance floor Back and forth its entrance door. No sooner by cochlea’s filtered Than it is by lips uttered And by the hands gestured, As swinging them is nurtured: Corrupted hips in a non-stop undulation, Fantasizing eyes, a ceaseless dilation Every second impressing Rotational Speed Little or no restraint to heed. A balm for wounded spirit music: An eraser of a hurting hiss, A genre faithfully fanning out pleasantries, Another volunteering unfamiliar quaintness: The First, A Melody For The Mild The Second A Package for The Wild The Former by Degrees boisterous The Latter ever willing to be mysterious A served dish of contrasting choices By an as much contrasting voices Quick millions showers an upcoming talent A supporting shoulder for the voice with a dent Curiously to some readers, A Great Help And when they can’t it reach A Yelp!