The wind plays a symphony that only the silent can hear.
Close your eyes, put your mind at peace, and open you heart to the sound.
Let the breeze fill your lungs and lift you higher.
Hear the rustle of the leaves high above and the gusts whistling a tune.
Windchimes add percussion while the hum of the earth beneath your feet casts a steady beating of your heart.
Breathe in, breathe out becomes the harmony.
And the wind roars the melody.
You are the conductor, the one in control.
You guide the song through its journey and take a victorious bow.
And when you stand and look out again and wonder why it has to go,
Remember that there will always been another symphony storm
I take a breath and close my eyes with pride.
His comments seek a lodging in my soul;
The hurt I feel from all he spits, I hide.
He’ll never know he’s found my numb heart’s holes.
“Forever” was his biggest lie to me,
One word, a feeble promise left unkept.
My heart should learn the way his drums beat free.
I’m captive to the trebled tears I’ve wept.
Do you recall when Whitman said “Beat! Beat! Drums!”?
Too bad the drums could always beat, beat us.
At least I got kisses ‘tween rounds of ***.
But still, to him, I’d grown superfluous.
I simply craved some adult discussion.
I guess he preferred to play his percussion.
The fire was black, today.
Ignited with the blood
of a man
who's someone else.
After it died
the coals danced purple
and snickered into
Wind blew pears off
causing them to
atop a shed's metal roof;
acting as the
night's percussion instruments.
The man pondered
the fragility of human life
and of applesauce.
The best percussion
this World has to offer
is that which you'd hear
were you to lay down your ear
upon the bare chest of your lover,
and loose count of the blessings for which you're both grateful:
each and every little touch
each and every heartbeat
each and every moment
each and every breath
each and every time
It's been so long since we've played my favorite songs.
I'm looking forward to the reunion tour, my love.
Wow, can you be more cheesy? Holy crap!
Good thing she likes that!
Began as abstract, became very much not.
I am a sheet of music
I start quietly building on the quartet of Strings
the Violin starts a shimmering sound
backed up with the viola
the solemn sound of the cello
and the ground breaking bass
united in harmony
There is a rest a break in note
I am part of a Symphony an overture
out of the heart of the music
a quiet roll
the timpani building in sound
full orchestra building in amazing ******
Fireworks, Percussion, Brass, Woodwind, Strings
Combined together in unity
performing to the quality levels of sound
the amazing Tchaikovsky in 1812
Creativity and Imagination
shaking the core of the earth
When the whole world doubts you
And your heart says a resounding yes
Take out the Clash Cymbals to crash all doubts
Make your own music to drown the noise
Clashing cymbals make the right music
Clash and Bang, that upbeats the true spirit
— The End —