Ode to a Tortured Instrument

Dear piano, you are sorely out of tune.
You mangle all the tunes I try to play.
I hope that we can fix you someday soon,
For you are getting worse with each new day.

The Beethoven sonatas aren't so bad--
they crash and roar and tumble all about.
The intonation makes me rather sad,
But there's a sense in which a shout's a shout.

For softer music, it is not the same.
Poor Pachelbel's sweet cannon cannot fight.
Despite its grandiose misnoming name,
your E-unnat'ral crushes out its might.

And so, dear piano, please don't be offended,
but I'll be glad when tunelessness has ended.


Luna said...

I like it, but what's the true meaning that made you want to let other people discover this literature?

Elena said...

Sheer lack of anything else to say.

Dreadfully silly, isn't it?

But I don't want to let my poor blog die, because quite frequently I do have things I'd like to say.

So I wrote for the sake of acquainting myself with the sonnet, and posted for the sake of... posting.