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Winter Reverie Nov 2015
This smile can't express what my heart is trying to say.
The strum of these four beats resonates
and echos for all to see.
Everyone knows the rhythm,
understands the sound,
but only a few appreciates the music.
I've stumbled into the cadence
Faintly hearing the melody
And I find myself following it
In the hopes that I find you
Playing that symphony
To my heart.
When someone plays it, it is impossible to ignore.
Martin Narrod Nov 2015
weathered fingertips in sensual crescendo
arouse blitzing keystrokes to commove
wild Js and Zeds, Ks and Is too.
harmony of the king's three-thousand acre jungle
swallowing the stormy orange cyclical stew

and tantamount to its feral cavities
thrushes whet jagged spinal bones to split
news of the no-rhythm, sambas of new religious canter
infiltrates the **** cavernous walls

This inner ear and greater sound
knew to find sanctuary here.
Lends its awesome craft to the next
And next, and next, and next;

beautiful unboxed melodies
new unused sweet single-reeds
threading that 20s centrifuge.
Saxophone. Incantations unfolding

Aloof in its ***** it unwraps
The veil of green, a costume of black coffees
Cigarette stained curtains exhumed to greet
Thick plumes of albicant sinewy smoke
At the heap of its glorious song

Uniting the funnel of eardom to consecrate
Bliss. Intrinsic and purple
An irrational knot of Portuguese drum
Met over by African toms and rattles

A glue imbued into those unmistakable
Chakras of this spell of mourning and reversed
Names of starlight girls and their other'd selves
These are the weapons of our new key strokes.

And upon the cortex it reveals this lift anew
Where death greeted me to intervene a place
Where sound and silence meet, and new strikes
Put my hands in halves. Pear-shaped birds pecking
At the joints, and where bowl-shaped tones bring

Their impeccable limbs to atone with auburn and cerise soils
Beneath the high ridges of doom- the empowering backspace
Does not exist, only new nothingnesses and their hooves
Splashing into each step into the next, and the next, and the next,
And the next.
Laura Withers Nov 2015
Their melodies
sing soft and sweet
bringing forth their light.

They never rest,
or fade away,
working all the night.

They sing and sing,
without a stop,
and give their wings some flight.

And if their tune,
did ever die,
I would not be all right.

For their lovely song,
I sing with them,
and I keep my light.
Birds
Cody Haag Oct 2015
Why girl must you stare back at me, with such sad, sad eyes?
You're a mirror of the pain I've been going through, an image of my pain in disguise.
As the lyrics flow off of the page, and the melodies fade softly away from your lips,
I know that you are like me, given nothing but worthless chips.
Chips to cast and play, in the game called life,
While others play the game, with cards to avoid tremendous pain and strife.

Why do you sing this soul-tearing song with me?
Each lyric is a ballad to the pain I've come to need.
We're all alone right now, in the emptiness of our despair,
Perhaps this pain we're singing about was always meant for us to bear.

Out of any song that is beautiful, heartfelt, and melodic,
We chose the song that we can sing, sounding somewhat neurotic.
Perhaps this pain is a twisting trail, like the notes on our page,
or the words, leaving our lips as we stand together on stage.

When our song is over, maybe the pain will subside,
fading away into the lyrics, we can try to lock away and hide.
Our past is tortured and haunted by the remnants of what could have been,
But that's all been put away now, leaving us closer than ever, true friends.
I'll never do you wrong; I swear it on the notes that leave my lips, the tugs I feel pulling on my heart.
You've hurt me and I've hurt you; that was our tormented start.

Maybe we don't have to hide in these lyrics anymore, maybe we can hide in each other, opening up another door.

A door for happiness; a door for new found pain.
We'll never heal these wounds that have damaged us, leaving us broken and stained.
The best we can do is cover up the pain,
Masking it with something, that hurts somewhat the same.
I hope you like it. :)
Flo Oct 2015
Note to note across the keys
My fingers jumping as if brought to life at last
Finally bringing my mind to ease
My fingers moving incredibly fast

I barely see the notes
It all comes automatically
The entire world around me floats
Feeling so ecstatically

Music is an amazing thing
No matter the kind
Let's go out play and sing
I would not mind

To see all those faces filled with joy
Even though i am talking here about the Piano. It is generally about instruments or music in general. It is for a lot of people including me the best way to relax and calm down. There is no language barrier. Music brings people together. Go out and play some music!
Stefan Smith Oct 2015
Sometimes
I forget to listen
to the melody of your voice,
and your words
become a metronome.
Such
a
brittle
mind.
Emma Reynolds Oct 2015
The way fig flesh
Folds itself
into each hour,
its skin rubbed
from gray to
purple, bitten into
yellow prickled with
gold seeds stuck
to your lips. It’s
late, maybe midnight
or two we’re not sure
as our feet trip
over stone streets and
we bid the other
buona notte.
I am hungry and
very much wanting
***. Instead
I sauté the
zucchini blossoms
my host mom
bought all’mercado.
and in her kitchen
I lick
the mouth of the
olive oil bottle as
the petals pucker
in her cast iron
pan and then with
a whisper of salt
they are burning
my mouth as I
pluck
each
from the pan, oil
dripping down my
wrists and after I
am still hungry
and very much
wanting ***
but I decide
it’s enough
to have figs and
zucchini blossoms
and I go to bed,
my mouth tasting
something
like a melody.
Carl Halling Sep 2015
Perhaps she lives
In our dreams alone,
She whose face is
Illumined
By the rays
Of the sun,
While the dansette plays
Some romantic melody,
O how I love
The one
Who lives in my perfect love.

It's so strange,
The morning comes,
And there are tears in my eyes;
My dream has disappeared,
Lost in the wind of time;
She who looked at me
With such tenderness,
While the dansette played
Some romantic melody
O how I love the one
Who lives in my perfect love.

Memories leave me in peace,
O my past,
Where did you flee,
My golden youth,
All squandered,
All gone,
My thoughts torment me,
Precious faith, please
Comfort me,
For what is my life
Without you.

Perhaps she lives
In our dreams alone,
She whose face is
Illumined
By the rays
Of the sun,
While the dansette plays
Some romantic melody,
O how I love
The one
Who lives in my perfect love.
"Who Lives in My Perfect Love" is a pretty accurate translation of a song I wrote - in French - when I was about 19, although verse three is a recent addition.
Thomas EG Sep 2015
It usually goes a little like this:
Intro, body, bridge, body, body, outro

The body is the most important part
Or at least so we think at first hearing

But personality and words are equal

And your melody is lyrically smooth
As your tempo bounces along my stave

And my vocal chords strum into crescendo

You are my ****** note

Ascending to my neck
Descending to my heart

I yearn to be someone's hand to hold

Someone's ostinato
To transfer into a lower key

If I could be your vibrato

Shake me, shake me, shake me
I love you

I rise up out of my seat
Out of my body

As I make my way towards the outro
And scream:

"YOU DIDN'T KEEP YOUR PROMISE!"

But kiss you, anyway
Because honesty was never your forté

And I love the words that escape your lips
And I love your body

**I love you
Another intoxicated poem :-)
Mystifying Chaos Sep 2015
His mellifluous voice ignited a spark in my soul.
His face looked so calm as he strummed the strings..
But, the guitar strings were not the only strings getting plucked.
The strings of my heart were getting hammered with emotions,
As he started to play the kind of music that took me away to a state of trance.
All I could hear was his voice reverberating in the hall.
And all I could feel was Euphoria.
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