Rocking

Rock

and roll,

it’s out of control.

The beat of the drums

echoes deep in my soul.

Rock back and forth

in the waves of the sound,

with edges-so rough

and a base, smooth and round. 

The rocking chair under me scrapes on the ground. 

Rocking and rolling, 

my heart skips a beat

and I’m tapping my feet

to this music-so sweet. 

This room full of passion has become my retreat

and this rocking, rocking, rocking chair-my seat.

To sit back and observe

a rain stick turn-full of pebbles

and faces, lighting up,

those silly little rebels.

Pretend to be bad

but your innocent, I’m sure

for, the sound of the music is nothing but pure

and the eyes in the audience say

“Give me more” 

More beats and more drums

more twitling thumbs

fingering strums.

More base-smooth and round

vibrating the ground,

more moving around

more rock and roll sound.

Creative Writing Class / 2009