Are Only Virtuosos Allowed To Sing?
The Cry of an Amateur Musician
It is very unfortunate to see music being given a very discrete form by the society. Here is my poem in which the amorphous nature of music is glorified and experimentation to break the rigid rules of “conventional music” by amateur musicians is emphasized.
Is music merely running between notes
Or jumping between melodies in vibrant tempos
Is it predetermined by a black and white sheet
Or does it need a set of desolate Staccatos make it complete?
Why is it only a Nightingale that can intone?
Is it merely the mellifluence in its voice
Or is it particularly a bias in our mind
That overlooks a Pigeon’s talent and makes it difficult to find.
Is it only a Fagotto that can produce tones with air
And can only living organisms perform
Isn’t wind rushing through a pipe a whistle in its tone
And the subtle smile of the rising sun music of its own?
The giggle of a river flowing over rocks
And the melody of rustling of leaves in the Autumn
Or the rhythm of the moonlight over the serene sky
Why under music can’t these comply?
Maestros might be masters at their art
But monopoly over music is definitely discriminatory
The society tied and held innovation with an invisible string
“Are only virtuosos allowed to sing?”
