Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction Writing Gallery

Jazz Ensemble: Nature's Jazz Ensemble shares a concert with me as I sit on the shores of Lake Passagassawakeag
Posted by Douglas, Jul 17, 2008. 3199 views. ID = 1492

Jazz Ensemble

Posted by Douglas, Jul 17, 2008. 3199 views. ID = 1492
This post was written in 1 minutes.
This is a description of an evening in my cottage at Camp Fairhaven on Lake Passagassawakeag.

This is iambic pentameter, which is most often used with alternating lines in rhyme. For this, though, I left out every second rhyme, so each quatrain has only one rhyme (on the second and fourth lines). This gave me a little more freedom, and made the rhyming a bit more subtle, which I thought would work nicely for this subject.
This post has been awarded 58 stars by 13 readers.
This post is Part 1 of a writing series titled Lake Passagassawakeag.

Like shards of ice, the broken moonlight floats
In fragments on the gently tossing wake:
A shattered line of silver in the dark,
A gleaming spotlight twinkling on the lake.
And all around in shadowed splendor stands,
The audience of grand, majestic trees,
With arms upraised in quiet eagerness,
And broad, green leaves that murmur in the breeze.
The shrubs and grass, like children, also wait;
They bend and turn with every passing blow.
The breeze rebukes them with her hushing sound
As all the lights at last are fading low.

The jazz ensemble waits in nature's halls
And listens for the nighttime's silent pause,
Then in the darkness takes the center stage,
Amidst the soft and rustling trees' applause.
So first appears - their fanfare soft but clear -
The horns and saxophones, with raucous score:
The happy sounds of children's laughs and shouts;
Their trilling echoes call from distant shores.
So softly now, the fiddlers tune their chords,
And nervously they put the strings to bow:
With trembling touch and ragged chirrup sound
The crickets add a high and gentle tremolo.
At last, beneath it all, the bass begins;
Its underpinning lends a rhythmic trail:
A lone and lonely frog with sadness sings
A downward rumbling melancholy scale.
And then the breeze, delighted with the sound,
Returns and calls the eager crowd to sing;
The softly lapping waves and whispering trees
Provide the hi-hat's soft percussive ring.

The voices rise, expanding o'er the calm,
With songs that turn on jarring dissonance
And in between, those hidden tastes of joy:
Delightful bursts of sweetest consonance.
But then the trilling saxophones grow mute,
As darkness deepens o'er the thrumming tune,
And children lay their silent heads to rest
While lonely frogs romance beneath the moon.
So I, as well, am lulled by gentle songs;
Though loathe to hear this murm'ring concert end,
I'm borne away by soothing, misty dreams
Of frogs and trees in sweet, harmonic blend.

Copyright 2008 Douglas. All rights reserved. has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.

You must be logged in to comment on or rate this writing.

Click here to join the Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction Writing Community!

This post has been awarded 58 stars by 13 readers.
This post is Part 1 of a writing series titled Lake Passagassawakeag. The next part of this series can be found here: Space Walk.
This is a revised version of a post. Click here to view the original version

Search for Great Fiction

Use the google search bar below to find writings exclusively on this site.

Custom Search

News!    Writing Prompt    My Assignment    FAQ    Contact    Privacy Policy    Search     Terms of Use     Login