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His voice was like velvet
Lyrics soaked in pain
His hair was so fluffy
Like he'd walked through rain

The gentle movements
And expressive chords
Rippled out through the audience
Couldn't not applaud
Enas Sep 22
27th. August. 2014

Once, a promise..

Stronger, kinder and wiser..

A silent seeker..

Today, a creed..

Tenacious, gracious and sagest..

A singing sophist..
I cut a peep hole in space,
Enough to squeeze my fingers through.
I pull it open and wrap its fabric around me,
To gain a better view.

Feeling the stars rotate around my center point,
A cosmic spider’s web stretching out infinitely.
Scaling the web like morning dew.
The stars beat in rhythmic poetry.
I sing to them and they sing to me,
We are all singing in harmony.

It is all balanced and perfect,
Sway to the music.

Sorting to find it in the storm.
Be an instrument in its hands,
Sing its melody through your chords,
Let the sound fill your center,
Let it bounce around and out of you,
To touch the hearts and minds around you.

Is this separate or is this my reflection?
In everything I see myself,
Echoing through the gaps between particles of inner space,
Staring right at God’s face.

The universe is singing to me.
That old sweet melody.
Sway to the rhythm of the music,
Let it pass through body, mind and spirit!

Accept this holy gift and sway to the music!

I can hear the hum of Saturn,
Resonating within me.
The stars they sing out,
Verses of a remedy.

I am,
An instrument,
In its hands.
Sway to,
The music,
In its hands.

Sway to the music,
Witness every in-between scenes behind the moment!
I like to think that
Prince
Caspian

And
Kubo
And
The
Three
Strings

Are
Related
­By
One

Lo
O
O
O
Ng

Orange
Thread
Pensatucky
KJ Reed Aug 26
Sing for me,
wether good or bad,
cracked or too high pitched,
through tears or anger,
because I just want
to hear your voice,
in all the ways your voice
can sing or sound.
Silent whispers billowing on a waters crest,
caressing the rocks jutting from Mother's edge,
calling to a sweet romance scattered on a star lit sky.

Laughter from behind the sheet,
smiles rustled by a voice tip toeing through,
quietly knocking at the door of a Ruby Red Mansion.

Rooted deep in the melodious constancy,
life given shape by the tones illuminating the room,
memorialized in the calm after a hand drawn storm.
Danny C Jul 16
You will find sparrows, my mother said.
Not in the thick,
nor the deep dark
canopies of the woods.

You will find them, in droves,
at the ends of tree lines,
busy, busy — always busy
whether with song or with twig.

You will find them in coves
singing upon the vines,
busy, busy — always busy
calling out upon a sprig.

They are small when alone (much like me,
in the long, still, silent hours of my nights).
But in the morning they are a chorus
reminding you of all the work yet begun.

So, go, find yourself a tree.
You will find sparrows when you're done.
Have ever you heard
    A crow sing sweetly?
A singing bird,
    They sing discreetly.

They caw to scoff,
    Irk and berate you,—
To **** you off,
    And agitate you.
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