FORTISSIMO

It is not noise, it is music
Admittedly, played loud
It’s you I must convince
As it is sharp like quince
And it makes you wince
But it can rouse a crowd
And make even you sick

But anyway, you can talk
With all your death metal
Playing a loud volume set
Angry at losing some bet
Thrashing it, is better yet
As if it is a debt to settle
Open chords, full torque

My stuff can be quiet too
In contrast to treble forte
There could be pianissimo
It’s the softest, you know
But the volume can grow
And is almost a doorway
For noise to step through

With the beating of drums
Or the keen edge of brass
Distorted amplified guitar
Sounds like a noisy hurrah
Serious, and no lah-di-dah
Join a musical theory class
Play, as inspiration comes