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David Cunha Jan 13
Six string buzz galore
Stars align in solemn swear
The soul oozes out
- David Cunha
january 13, 2024
5:30 a.m.
TheKatIsDead Nov 2023
on the first day,
silence exists
to none; it awaits
the spark to turn
its light into sound
from singularity
to polarity
fastens and worsen

its glaze turns to screams;
the kaleidoscopic cacophony
turns nothingness
to an array of beauty

god looked at
the neverending pyre
and said
"that is all good"

he rest well the next day
Zywa Nov 2023
The timpani warm

up, gently stirring the voice --


in their big bellies.
Composition "Saeta" (1949, Elliot Carter), from: "Eight Pieces for Four Timpani", for four timpani, performed by Darío Antón Doiz on November 2nd, 2023 in the Organpark

Collection "org anp ark", #314
Steve Page Sep 2023
He opened his eyes well after he woke,
not wanting his touch to be proved a lie.

So he lay still, hiding his fears behind
the pink morning glow though eye lids,
holding his excitement under her breath.

And then she moved her hand
from his arm to his cheek
and she whispered, ‘I’m still here,’

and his joy bubbled up into a grin
as his eyes gave proof to touch and sound.
people watchin in Walpole Park. ( Not creepy at all.)
Creux Aug 2023
I ponder a tune,
ethereal and bright.  If it ever exists,
what would it sound like? Would it be the laughter
of a child's delight or the soothing  hush of the moonlit
night? Perhaps a melody of stars' soft embrace or a gentle
breeze's tender trace. Would it echo like ripples on tranquil
seas,  or  dance  like  leaves  in  autumnal  trees? I ponder  a
tune, ethereal and bright, but could that sound be within,
out of sight? In smiles of beloved, in gentle embrace,
in moments  of  stillness, whenever hearts pray.
Perhaps in memories, a glimpse of what's
been through. Maybe  it sounds like
home, almost like déjà vu.

Ω
AE Jul 2023
I've somehow stretched every limb
into a series of exhausted yawns
Now the rhythm of this day
Is with you
But it seems,
I am not the only one
With words breezy enough
To make you laugh
Because as I round the corner
I can hear the air rippling around you
And everything becoming lighter and lighter
Until you, a sun in everyone's galaxy
Illuminates the disillusioned
delusional rhythm makers
All here to gift you their love
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2023
~
Major blue empty:
first listen to the weather pattern;
the scaffolding remains,
but the holding songs
of color are threadbare;
simulacra of imperfection
simply swirls like seagrass,
a pointillist matrix
of rainfall rustles
gathering scene -- nothing
stands on its own initially;
but after a few localized
moments it collects
to articulate this silence,
as each sound looms and subsides
in the garden of
selective speculation.

~
A Psalmist Nov 2022
The laughing sounds
they must abound
filling space all around
to make ripe the ground
for the anguish to be drowned.
Steve Page Oct 2022
Before projectors
Before screens
Before Wi-Fi and cabling became a thing
Before keyboards and strings
Before the first drum tried drumming
I am.
And I will be forever,
says our faultless Lord.

While the power may fail,
while signals may drop,
while cables will inevitably come loose,
my love levels will never need a boost.

I will never forsake you or fail you.
I'll never go on mute
and that’s the truth,
says our Father-God.
Sundays can seem tech dependant - but it's not.
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