As I sit in the park working on Solidity, just north of a hedge separating the grass from the graveyard, no less than 6 crows pecked their way through the dappled shadows, calling out and back to their companions amongst the headstones. It seems fitting as I write a scene from a story about ghosts, graveyards and ravens. Would it be creepy to move my camp into the cemetery? This morning has a vibe. #inspirationiseverywhere
I can’t remember the last time I wrote a poem. In fact, I have pretty much avoided it – forever. However, a while back I went to a concert with a friend to see two bands who I had heard of but never listened to. I was aware of them, but they had definitely never been on my radar. For me, it was just an opportunity to go to a rock concert, which is definitely one of my favorite things to do.
When we arrived at the venue, I immediately knew I was out of my comfort zone. I have seen a lot of 80’s metal and rock bands, and at those concerts, the crowd is always a mix of attendees: the older crowd who remember going to concerts by the same band as teenagers, smoking cigarettes and leaving the venues through clouds of haze rolling from the doors at their ankles; people in my generation who grew up listening to and idolizing their parents’ music, and even some younger who have an appreciation for some good rock and roll.
This concert, however was different. Everyone was there in their black skinny jeans, leather bracelets and Converses. Dyed black hair or neon pink, multiple piercings in every orifice – I can say I felt just slightly out of place in my Teva sandals and Jack Sparrow t-shirt. I can’t say it was completely unexpected, but still it was a little shocking. But hey, I was at a concert, so it really didn’t matter, save the slight worry in the back of my mind of being caught up in a mosh pit or having some crowd surfer land on my head.
We arrived early, and as the venue was open seating, we made our way easily to the fence, only feet from the stage. Best seats I have ever had a concert. Despite my reservations, as soon as we approached the stage it didn’t matter who the bands were, or who the people were in the crowd. Concerts mesmerize me, and as soon as the lights fall, I am sucked into the moment, lost in the beat of the drum and the drift of the lights.
The concert was an experience, and for me one incomparable to any other. Afterwards, I reminisced about the different concerts I have been to and realized how they all affect me. They resonate in my soul. And in that moment I was struck with the idea that I should try and capture those feelings in a poem, a glimpse into the feeling and anticipation of a rock concert.
So, hard as this is for me to do, as I am not particularly confident in my poetic abilities, I present a reflection of a concert experience.
Boom. Boom.
Drum the Beat.
Cymbals crashing.
Bass chord thrum. Breathe in.
Ricochet through my soul.
Light beams flash through smokey haze
Fists in the air. Bodies pressing.
Bass line building. Drum beat calling. Breathe.
Heartbeat racing as guitars sing from the
shadows hiding the stars behind lights
beaming like lasers to the beat.
The crowd swells, sways to the drum.
Darkness shifts. Boom. Boom boom.
Melody breaks, soul
escape. Breathe in.
Voices sing.
Set me
Free.
Katie Rene Johnson 