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Lillian Jan 28
The soft winds of a fall night
Whisper hope to me
The wind gently dances
With the feathers of my plume
It will be alright
Said the wind
You will have a good performance.

Set!
I am at attention
My head is up at the sunset
My tall posture meets heaven
I am the guardian
Of dusks arrival,
And all of fall
Fades into my show's
Theme of spring.

I step on beat
Cherry blossoms fall
Beside my feet
The sky fades into blue and pink
In the distance stands a mountainous prop
Oh mount Fuji she stands!
What a pretty sight
For the judges
To see on a competitive night.

My heart ascends to hope
I fly up and over
The peak of mount Fuji
The kids of the night
Play her song
We all ascend into the stars.
A tribute to the MVHS 2023-2024 marching show titled the "Ascent" by Daniel Montoya Jr.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2023
At What Cost?
This Purchase of Our Future

a thousand answers + variegated shadings, a summation:


of millions layers of our owned chosen complexities,
so many possible outcomes, it makes infinite randomness
seemingly simpler than our googolplex crazy preposterous
notational choosings, our owned decisions which though false,
cause nothing is tandomn random except for love at first sight

it’s all  just *******, we conditioned from pre-birth,
the expectations subtly subsumed into the woman’s womb,
overlaid by the ***** donors whisperings that you will be a
great third baseman, or a great bass player, or both, but
“your” fate, ha!
is anything but yours…
to purchase!

if you were born to live in a home with no heat, and water was
obtainable by walking 100 yards away, you would still be a
pianist, writing notes of plaintive need, grand desires, musical
words of agonizing delight just as when
you first blushed when the brain
connected yellow rays with a word,
sunrise,
and an experience was synapticaly imprinted,
that real things could be defined by an ordering of letters and sounds
and you were tongue burnt by a need so great
to collect these pleasurable things and put them in a right order
of your
peculiar
particular
personal
inherited inputted
design

=
and
you yet debate
what is my instrument,
knowing that the multiples of your fingers
are the engine of your existence,
and on any particular day they, your well connected perma-crew,
will pick which is the chosen one,
and
no matter which,
for you had nothing or little purchase,
it was coded in your pre-history
just as you prepare a transmission list
of your own,
when you daily first touch your face,
closing the sensory sensual connection tween
the ephemeral and the physical
and
the new combinations
that you will imprint upon
someone’s flesh,
that is your right,
that is you write,
that is what you were
predestined,
to
create

but,
(what the heck)
you get
to-pick the instrument of the day…


(
that,
is your purchase, your only cost,
everything else has been
pre-paid
)
Thu Nov. 9 2023
8:51am
ny
Nigdaw Aug 2021
I wish I had learned to play an instrument
there is an untouched part of my soul
that will never have a voice
a chance of expression
I can never be truly lost
in music
I still hear your euphoric melodies,
The way your eyes would sing.
Vivace, you set the tempo;
The master of playing my heart strings.
scatterbrained Dec 2020
he’s reading me like Braille
each curve is another word, and i was begging to be learned
if knowledge is power then I want to make you the most powerful man in the world
you can learn my body like an instrument
take me in like I’m a stimulant
you’ve already struck a chord

Well, who am I?
Meant to be your mentor or your muse?
Slime-God Sep 2020
In presence of rain
the world is an instrument
alive with music
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Duet, Minor Key
by Michael R. Burch

Without the drama of cymbals
or the fanfare and snares of drums,
I present my case
stripped of its fine veneer:
Behold, thy instrument.

Play, for the night is long.

Keywords/Tags: Duet, minor, key, cymbals, symbols, drums, fanfare, snares, instrument, play, ***, night, long, strip, ****, naked
james Dec 2019
my mind crescendos
until the violin strings
are screaming more than they sing
and i cant hear my heart beat
over the sound.
when the world is too loud,
i will grow louder
until my bow snaps, and death drowns me out
100% in my top favorite poems of mine
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