Backwards and forwards
— backwards and forwards
— — in monotonous regularity
The ever present metronome
— moving with such clarity.

But he knows all his pieces off by heart
Yet still his harsh master loves the part
Where he can suddenly change the fate
Of the genius boy he has come to hate.
The boy stays calm although it’s late
When criticism comes to precipitate
The act of violence when the master strikes
Another of the man’s hate-driven likes.

He slams the lid down onto the keys
The boy, too fast, moves his hands to his knees
Then gently he lifts the lid up to play
His fingers stay safe for yet one more day.
So still, the boy plays on and on
His pieces, angelic thoughts, every one
He will never sully composers’ aims
To satisfy his vile master’s games.

Tick tock, just like the clock
The boy plays with thoughts so pure
A jealousy entered his master’s heart
For which the boy has no cure.

©Joe Wilson – The piano, the genius, and the jealous master…2015

I wrote this for a challenge on a poetry site. (Metronome, Precipitate, Sully)