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As you strum the strings
Of those guitars you play
Looking up at the camera
While in bed, I lay
Talking about our future
As we philosophize
And then act like idiots
Matching each others energy
And balancing each other out
And to think my life
Once had you without it
Makes no sense to me
But at least now
I'll hopefully have you forever
And we can grow old and reminisce
On those phone calls we've slightly missed
Since I flew across the world to be with you
And never regretted since
The distance so far is hard I know
But one day I'll be there
In our own place to call home
Right now it's hard
But soon enough, my love
I'll be there in your arms
i love him so much. god please let this one last
‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.
Published in ALFaaz E-Magazine Vol.2 December 2021 edition. Punjab, Pakistan.
©️ Joshua Reece Wylie 2021.
Faye May 2021
i used to write about
a poet meeting a musician
who turns her poems into songs
and together, they make art
out of love and moments they share
are you the one from my dreams?

all her muses didn't appreciate
the heart she put into pieces she wrote
but maybe the musician will.
the beginning of a new chapter
in the poet's life
David Naumann Apr 2021
The soloist closes their eyes and leans in to play their instrument,
an intertwined movement as the musician and their tool becomes one.
An ever so subtle look of one who loves to that which is intimate,
knowing the sentiment that was formed now may never be undone.

The dance is bittersweet as the moment has already began to fade,
a beautiful sight with the undertones of a melancholic symphony.
Even though the house lights stayed a lit and the music swayed
the musician could see the end coming of this moment so vividly.

This temporary music spreads out into infinity,
where all is left is the memories.
Notes and undertones that almost approach divinity,
where all is left is the reveries.

The house lights went out, the soloist left gasping for air.
Every delicate sensation overwhelmed but they didn't care.
Our nights filled with dreams of music as it drifts quietly off into the night sky forming into stars.
Payton Feb 2021
Imagine, I am sitting
at the piano.
Imagine, you come to sit
beside me-to join me.
And while I am playing,  out of the corner
of my eye, I see the twinkle
in yours. The longing in your eyes,
because I caress the keys of the piano
so softly, and you hope, that
I might, one day, do the same
to
you.
But I am no more than a simple musician.
So imagine this, I can play the piano,
but    I could
          make you
                    sing.
This poem was written in 2016.
Betty Jan 2021
Pick up the brush
although the handle be thorns
and paint with words, or love or tears or rain
paint them all the same
paint your heart or the sky or a thousand other things
paint until the brush is dry and fingers bleed
for you are blessed indeed
How lucky we are to have an imagination. Some people don't have one-poor sane things!
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