We downsized several years ago,
Decided our piano would have to go.
It was a Bechstein, one of the best
But it sounded like a honky tonk from the far Wild West.
The music stool and the music went too.
I sold my musical traumas – I’d had more than a few!
I had less than fond memories of teachers that shout.
My musical evenings were over and out.
But where’s my piano? I wanted it back.
OK. It was old. The white notes had gone black.
There’s nowhere to put photos and candles any more
And those wooden elephants are stuck on the floor.
Ouch! I’ve tripped over them again. There’s a lump on my head.
They’ve got to go somewhere, maybe out in the shed.
Joking apart, there’s a space in my heart.
I’d been too impulsive, trying to make a new start.
So I tripped along to the keyboard store
And had a tour which left me more
Confused by a hundred keyboards all shapes and sizes,
Pianos dressed in smart disguises.
Touch a note, a whole orchestra plays.
Is that what I want? I’m trapped in a daze.
And there’s no room for the elephants on a Yamaha top.
They’ll have to emigrate to the Oxfam shop.
There’s an ad in the paper. It’s just down the road.
A keyboard for sale £40. I’ll be blowed!”
Still in the box, pristine but I bet
There’s no orchestra. Well what do you get
For £40? I wonder how it sounds.
I went along to U3A
With my second hand keyboard, just feeling my way.
My new toy did fantastic things.
So clever and light! Such pleasure it brings.
But……at the Keyboard Group there were magnificent things.
Tyros 3 and Tyros 4,
They sound like bulls without the gore.
I raise my cape. Into battle!
I’ll show those Tyros 3 and 4.
And now my teacher’s Doreen or Dee.
She wouldn’t dare to shout at me
Because I’m scary now and tough
And playing just like Rachmaninuff!
Well, the keyboard does half the stuff.
Thanks Dee for all your kind advice.
The £1 coin a very small price
For the help we get and encouragement,
But the inspiration brings discontent.
I want to be creative, I want to be bold
But my fingers refuse to do as they’re told.
I fancy playing jazz to relive my youth.
Well, I never went to a jazz club to tell the truth!
We listen hard and practise scales,
Make progress like a bunch of snails.
We’ll never be Chopin or Charlie Kunz
But we still produce some damn good tunes.
And we all feel we’ve made a friend.
I hope our meetings never end.
Pat Morton
Dee is the leader of the Keyboard Group and I wrote this poem for her birthday. The poem tells its own story but I must add how much I enjoy being part of the group. I have made some good friends and learnt such a lot, although there is always so much more to learn. I benefit so much from the various groups I belong to and I am immensely grateful to the U3A for giving me these opportunities. Long may it continue to flourish!
Last Updated on April 15, 2018