The Choir Rehearsal Poem by Angela Wybrow

(This poem was inspired by the choir rehearsals I attend with Voicelab, based at the Royal Festival Hall in London.)

The day that I joined the choir,
I satisfied my singing desire.
Music is such a magical gift.
My sleepy soul, it awakes and lifts.

It’s heaven to listen to the four voice parts,
Singing together with all their hearts.
The four tunes all twist and entwine,
Sending shivers of excitement down my spine.

They come together and are heard as one.
It sounds beautiful and I’m totally stunned.
It’s wonderful being part of it all.
I really am having a magical ball.

When I leave home sometimes, I may feel down,
But when I get to rehearsals, it soon lifts my frown.
My face feels as though it’s always ready to smile
And I am enjoying myself all of the while.

Our vocal coach keeps the mood light,
But, of her aims, she doesn’t lose sight.
She sings a short phrase and we sing it back
We repeat it a few times until we’ve got the knack.

If we go wrong, we hear an operatic ‘Stop! ’
And the volume of singing suddenly drops.
She will go over a phrase until it is just so,
Then, and only then, onwards she’ll go.

A single finger placed in front of her shushing lips,
Indicates for us to sing softer, so our volume dips.
Seeing her drawing her hands slowly apart, we know,
Indicates that she wants the sound to rise and grow.

Not everyone in the choir can read music, so
Her hands indicate whether to sing high or low.
During rehearsals, we’re given much praise,
To motivate us for our performance days.

When she’s pleased, we’re rewarded with a smile,
Making it seem all the more worthwhile.
When it’s all over and I board my train,
Traces of a smile, on my face, still remain.

When I reach home, I’m still on a high,
And it’s hard to wind down and shut my eyes.
Eventually, over me, tiredness creeps,
And, feeling content, I drift off to sleep.