Marching Band Poem by Kathryn Kubacki

Marching Band

Rating: 4.8


A gentle breeze on your face
Comrades march in front, behind
Heads held high
Drum leads the march

Shoulders back
All in step
Spread out among the field
Silenced breath

The cadence stops
Wait.
Major stands tall
Hands raised, ready to begin

No voices heard
No horns blare
All is quiet
Until the signal is given

One, two, hands conduct
A single drum
All start to move
Quietly in step

Into formation
Into the fray
Sharp beat
Horns begin to play

Through the show
Tiny mistakes
Cost victory
But it is not defeat

Final note rings
It is over
Snare drum taps
Silent march away

Monday, March 10, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: music
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Marching band feels like a battle, one mistake can cost everything. I still love it, even though we were in defeat
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