LET MUSIC BE

Touch the music gently. Let the notes descend like mist Crowning a blossom with dewdrops wary of bending a petal with its weight Let music rest like a feather On a bed of tender bluets Each a complement to the other’s spirit Let the melody whisper its own sweet words Touching the heart like a

LIFE IN LYRICS

Isn’t it romantic to have life in lyrics – everything is larger than it should be Tears continue flowing while the song is sung Forever and ever like looping time Heartbreak never mends in the musical pedestal Sing it! sing it! Again and again Keep the pain as raw as when it began Oh! but,

MEMORIES IN MY ARMS

 My arms knew music, the feel of a violin my fingers knew the places where the notes sang well My arms have forgotten the weight of a violin but know well the comforting feel of a baby in their cradle My fingers have forgotten the melodies they played but they have been quite adept at

CELLO CARESS

When I run empty I fill up with music the one where the cello sings and caresses my spirit with its voice low and sonorous gently calling pieces of me to life and lifting me up tenderly like a lover holding me by my hands moving me across the room by a slow dance towards

AUTUMN’S HYMN

The wind plays Autumn’s hymn Plaintive floating in the air above the treetops Through fields Of plump pumpkins And golden grains. Above the clouds There flows The staccato call of departing geese While down below the laden trees drum their fruit against the solid earth. Then at last the russet leaves join the swelling symphony

MUSICAL SEVENLING

  A sleepless mother, a crying child a halting lullaby escaping sealed shut lips working through the night. On a hot sultry day, a videoke blared above the din of barking dogs and grimy children. Hope sings.

MUSIC MAN (for WPC: ADMIRATION)

  If I could stand before the world coax music out of reeds not be bothered about the crowd who cares not for the gift I give I am brave If I could handle the scorn that the world inspires within calm down the raging storm let out from my wounds a healing song I

MY VOICE IS A BROKEN VIOLIN (for WPC: Express Yourself)

  My voice is a broken violin that is playing out of tune its discordant chords echo within the bounds of an empty room. Often I dreamed I have the power to put the notes in my command make the world weep or exalt with the music from my hands. Alas! my wish is but

WPC: COVER ART

I had to cajole my sons to pose for me.  I was thinking of a solemn mood to complement Autumn and the gray days we have.  The idea began with my ruined violin bow.  I think my youngest son got a hold of it and pulled at the horsehair.  I wanted falling leaves to be

PLEAIDES (for DVerse Poets)

For DVERSE’s Meeting the Bar, Vandana Sharma  Challenges us to write a poem in Pleiades form.  Essentially, it is a poem with seven lines, each line having 6 syllables.   Kindly visit the Pub for more details and responses. 🙂 Here are my Pleiades.   MUSIC My soul was swept away music wrapped it in waves