There’s a Song

There’s a song in my head
Coming out on repeat
Sneaking under my bed
And out there, in the streets.

There’s no word to this song,
No melody to hear,
It just sits on my tongue
Or right behind the ears.

It feels like a fabric
Being sewn by the left
Ventricle and the right
Atrium without scheme.

It feels like a samba,
A salsa, a tango,
Or maybe a rumba
Played on a piano.

It feeds on the passions
That so easily grow;
With no hesitation
In a bite, makes it go.

When it’s fuel is eaten
Harmony dismantles,
Finally the song stops.

 

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Introduction to “There’s a Song”

My mothertongue is French. Maybe you noticed.
A couple years ago I attended an introductory course to English Literature, and there was a part about “Poetry in English”. Well, it was actually half the course. Of this half I didn’t understand much; the poetic rules and structure are in some ways different from those you find in French-language poetry. The main difficulty for my non-mothertonguely-fluent-in-English comrads and me was related to stresses, and thus to counting the meters.
Feet, Beats and Off-beats. Anapaestic, Iambic, Spondaic rhythm and the like… “WHAT is the meaning of this?! ” our eyes were screaming.
As of today, I still have no clue about how to write a poem in English, so…

Here’s a little poem in English!

Written in accordance with French poetry’s metric rules.

This poem is about those songs you cannot hear but only feel. It’s about those songs that cannot translate the joy you’re feeling into tangible melodies. It’s about those song that frenetically dance in your chest for a while, and then leave with the bliss you thought would stay forever.