Me and My Beast

At six years old

I met a ghastly beast

A hound of hell

At very least

With gnashing teeth

All black and white

Eighty-eight with which to bite.

By seven the beast

Was even worse

Our weekly encounters

A child’s curse

The jaws did snap

The sinews twang

Sending me cowed back home again.

At eight I faced

My childish fear

With heart in mouth

And voice quavering clear

Declared that I was master here

And so for a time

We were doing great

Travelled together

Grades one to eight

Enjoyed successes

Made Mum proud

Played together

Impressed the crowd.

It seemed the beast

Was tamed at last

And people agreed

It had happened fast

Complacency however,

Is a dangerous thing

Learn to talk before you sing!

At sixteen years old

My beast was back

Hulking, crouching

Gleaming black

Glowering from the corner at me

Mocking mediocrity.

“You think you know me?”

It seemed to say

“You’ve barely started,

Hardly under way!”

So much more you need to learn

In order to the beast reform.

And so I locked myself away

Hour upon hour

Day after day

And spent my time

Playing the part

Practising hard

Re-learning my art.

And here I am

Most twenty years of age

My beast and I

On St Martin’s stage

And together we will play us

Beethoven, Chopin and Amadeus.