"cappella" poems
~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny threads scattered
above clouded daydreams
Worded floating silent streams,
spinning slowly, creating phrases
on whirlwind petals,
browned edges frame
whispered wonderings
sans answers
upon somber breezes
of yesterday’s questions
or
A cappella Hydrangeas
send harmonic petals floating
upon melodic wind chime breezes,
suspended soft concerto clouds
on love sonnet strings
tuned to a spring day,
as flowering symphonies,
acoustic mobiles of emotion
bloom within a garden
of daffodils dreams
in unison with lyrical
compositions of nature’s
enchanting song
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
Can I write you a love song
I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long
Blow gently without words on my saxophone
Diamond and Pearls behind the throne
A beautiful ensemble meant for only you
As I give credence too
Take my hand
Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands
Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands
Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift
Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts
I’ll sing love songs of old
A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul
I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms
Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn
Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem
A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings
Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring
I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now
Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow
Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes
Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon
Destiny overcasts in the lyrics
Fate floating stratospheric
Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric
Opera, I give you so grand in its grace
French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace
Sounds of my flute resonant to face
Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace
Can I write you a love song
Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong
My guitar stringing your philosophies along
An equal equation, one plus one equals two
Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you
No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies
Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please
Orchestra sounds
Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound
The last note sung by me as we gradually come down
Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound
Shh, close your eyes
Meditate on the music for a little while
Hush sweet baby don’t say a word
My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don’t sing
Can I write you a love song created only for your being
As minds are sightseeing
Hearts fleeing
Timpani drums guaranteeing
Entwined of our divine wellbeing
Emotions freeing
Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long
Can I write you a love song
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
people drank and swayed as you stood up there
and oscillated your hands over the surface of the synthesizer
Ambience
all I heard was the thereminEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
I heard that as I boarded the subwayEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
and I thought about an orchidEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
You resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I went and saw you again playing the back alley
and you did it a cappella while people shrieked from their acid trips
Sad
and all I heard was your voiceEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
and I heard them as I fell onto the pavementAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
and I thought I saw an orchidEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAA
You still resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I bought the paper because it was routine
I read you had vanished, but your face was on the page
Smile
and all I heard was my voiceAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
and then I pictured the fireworksOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAOOOO
they looked like orchidsAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
You didn't resemble an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I pulled over on the highway, I saw a ghost
He got in the car and it was so cold, I thought about my disbelief
Disappointment.
I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw a ghost
Its hand were big and nimble, its head a large inflorescence
Pretty
and I heard the thereminEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
the fireworks in my headOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOO
and our voices.
You resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
An orchid, save my soul.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
August before the arrival, cloud water hearted, Yula drift, long Sasa, Laji a monk's footsteps, I walk alone, walk in July.
Breeze disrupted my thoughts, I will stand in which to stay, at what station will also continue to drift, but life was however, learned to understand life, to understand life, learned in this way and the way the landscape room becomes indifferent, learn to be a wanderer. (Yiwu export)
Standing on the junction of the season, I do not know the years makes us hurry, or we go hurry.
Earth road, Journey, life mountain water a ride a ride, who can use words of happiness and sadness to resist the pace line prime years. I like the night, a person can go to find quiet in the memory, to the longing to stray, along the way, seen the earthly noisy, bustling seen the world, I think I should be quiet, give yourself a little heart lake, let my heart sink to the bottom of the lake, guarding a suitable melody, so that I can put down his heavy heart. Let yourself get a little dry soul to rest, get a little water moisture.
How many nights like repeat such feelings.
I do not know, tonight the cold moonlight cut the silence who dream? (Yiwu buying agent)
I do not know, who are independent of Migiura up for ages?
I do not know, a cappella blowing a flute in the moonlight hurt much Red?
Youth wind gently blowing, will we gradually grow, gradually happiness, sadness gradually, gradually, we are lost.
Our short life is to experience something, meet some people came. Some encounter in life, like gentle wind, snow, like (yiwu export agent) purity, should meet, then please cherish each other, give each other a warm smile, a warm hug, Xiangxi too, cherished, Should really gone, maybe not leave any regrets, I remember your world I have been to in my life have your shadow. Vicissitudes of time to write more than just wandering, there was a Shizumori, a quiet beauty. Sketch moonlight, I write and draw, describe all the thoughts became a ****** pieces of painting, set into roll of a roll, hidden in the depths of my heart, you can go to wait until spring, waiting to all things prehistoric, waiting for the world to the next reincarnation.
Life, melodious, memory or stranding, go learn to really make a person do a lonely wanderer. I was alone silently took years before the trip, like the horizon of their Su Yi Strider, became a vagabond, wandering around the world.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
You make me not hate snoring.
You miracle worker, you.
Usually it feels like a lawnmower
massaging my skull, but you, buddy,
croak like an angel.
The acoustics of your voice,
the high fidelity and crumpled static,
the seesaw between treble and bass,
have my head singing
pitch-perfect harmonies.
Your hum slows down my tempo,
heightens my crescendo,
sends my heart pumping
at double-time staccato.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
.
*Music written to
the sound of the rain,
patters of notes upon
slick windowpanes
mesmerizing a day
of reminiscence,
when two hearts
danced between
the steady drizzle
Drenched in the key
of lost moments
playing over and over
in the saturated symphonies
of my mind’s
harmonic sadness
un-tuned melodies echo
through puddles collected
within a cappella fingers*
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
**under my skin
high tension wires
they crackle and singe
the hair on my arms
burning inside
making roadmaps on my
throat and belly
leading
nowhere
the words are singing
an a cappella high note
bursting my eardrums
shattering glass
the fragments shimmer
and filter out into
the ionosphere
hang there
to rival
the
aurora borialis
the words are singing
their song of mermaids
their siren song
i crash on the rocks
i tear the paper
with a
rudderless ship
and the words
skitter
off the page
like lizards**
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/6/2015
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
I'm so happy,
I could dance on the moon
To an a cappella symphony.
The shine in my face
Could give starlight
To a galaxy in billions of years,
And that will be my memory.
I'm so happy,
Mona Lisa will grin in return.
Gargoyles in Gothic cathedrals
Will cease their snarling stares.
I'm so happy,
And you are in the background.
I can dance to a cappella,
But not to the white noise
You emit.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
*Powerful Oaks nurture glistening orbs , curtain call of the Muses , prequel of effervescent , diurnal joy amongst their brethren with abundant ****** melodies ! The Angels of Harmony , melodist of Zion , proclaim from the East ! The woodland duet , song of Brown Thrasher and Chickadee , the acoustical miracles of the Heavenly host , brilliant a cappella voices with thunderous volume , first chair instrumentalist within the symphony of Dawn*
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious
they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious
so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness?
A: Andante con fuoco
We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first
your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse
you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch
hittin’ soprano like a castrato *****
my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key
my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat
you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own
find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome
B: Allegro con brio
throw down the fermata and hold up a minute
your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it
and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical
you just can’t register that my words are magical
I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat?
And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy
A: Moderato col legno
well as for your girl, it may sound corny
the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so *****
dispel your illusion, i got one more
your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score
B: Allegretto grazioso
your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless
your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless
your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown
an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones
A: Affrettando agitato
get out my face with your unnatural rap
you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat
you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat
so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH
B: Coda
pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode
such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a
no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience
an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence
So that’s their story, best not get involved
their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
Today, let me be an alien a cappella
A day among a crowd of quiet dandelions
With the soft white sun to bask
Let me sleep with the daffodil shadows
Yesterday, too much bottles were handled
Too much faces unmasked
I'm naturally a boy who wears neon shoes
And a mask of blue damask
At night I run to temples
Or a single tent with candles near my bed
Tonight, let me rest quietly
For tomorrow there will be
Jubilation and fantastic sounds which I will crave again
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
~~~
*"and ev'ry stop is neatly planned
for a poet and a one-man band"
Simon & Garfunkel "Homeward Bound"*
~~~
***just one more,
for Sally B.,
who loves their music,
and all the poets here***
~~~
when best messing with perfection,
hope for a close enough
second place finish,
at best
when tendering a gift,
gotta give only your
best,
for this is how,
you will be
best
remembered
yet all our stops here,
were and we're
never neatly planned,
indeed,
as you
sail on silver girl,
through to all
of our
unscheduled ports o' call,
and though our fingers may never intersect,
they have touched,
more than once,
on this poetry river
of electrons,
this bridge
over troubled waters
no need to make a plan,
to get yourself free,
even tho' I am no more
than a poor boy from New York City,
I make no jest,
always laying low,
but not here, not now
for this job I took upon mine own,
so after changes upon changes,
mount the stage, spotlighted,
one more song,
one more poem from a one man band,
this poet~fighter composes alone,
ill prepared,
carrying a reminder of every poem that laid him down,
but
tasked and
accepting nonetheless,
this challenge bout
old friends,
he sings,
i've come to talk to you again,
for this revelation still remains,
well planted in the brain
this song, this poem
will be shared,
let us all read it aloud
to break
the sounds of silence,
in a chorus of a cappella voices,
this simple verse upon which
I cannot improve
this poem, this stop,
this hello
to an endless poetry voyage
that transports human finery,
was indeed
never planned neatly,
but here was born
a sole sufficient refrain,
contenting the writer and the reader,
all of us poets,
all of us one man bands,
all of us in one voice singing
*you are simply the
best here,
you are home,
and to you,
we are bound*
~~~
August 9, 2015
Shelter Island
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
near the surface,
just beneath the sounds of our feet
among the bones, are arrowheads
maybe a spent cartridge from the bluecoats
who brought a strange thunder,
disturbing the a cappella birdsong,
deeper
hidden in eons of darkness, unperturbed,
until now, by the shallow, scratching efforts
of the creatures above,
a black organic soup, remnants of plants
and animals who once breathed
like we, we who now voraciously drill
through the tired but tenacious skin
to reach a rich marrow, one we resurrect
to blaspheme in our mobile ovens
and scatter ashes
on a deaf and dying rock
Post Script:
The earth never forgets.
Whatever we do to ****** it is recorded, often in ways undecipherable to man, but etched permanently somehow, somewhere.
Does the earth seek revenge?
Or is it retribution, or a reckoning?
Anything that has the power to recall every act in infinite detail and in perpetuity has the potential to respond.
Maybe a propensity to respond?
Is the earth an angry god?
I do not know, but
the earth never forgets.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
Rangers edge of the city
August before the arrival, cloud water hearted, Yula drift, long Sasa, Laji a monk's footsteps, I walk alone, walk in July.
Breeze disrupted my thoughts, I will stand in which to stay, at what station will also continue to drift, but life was however, learned to understand life, to understand life, learned in this way and the way the landscape room becomes indifferent, learn to be a wanderer. (Yiwu export)
Standing on the junction of the season, I do not know the years makes us hurry, or we go hurry.
Earth road, Journey, life mountain water a ride a ride, who can use words of happiness and sadness to resist the pace line prime years. I like the night, a person can go to find quiet in the memory, to the longing to stray, along the way, seen the earthly noisy, bustling seen the world, I think I should be quiet, give yourself a little heart lake, let my heart sink to the bottom of the lake, guarding a suitable melody, so that I can put down his heavy heart. Let yourself get a little dry soul to rest, get a little water moisture.
How many nights like repeat such feelings.
I do not know, tonight the cold moonlight cut the silence who dream? (Yiwu buying agent)
I do not know, who are independent of Migiura up for ages?
I do not know, a cappella blowing a flute in the moonlight hurt much Red?
Youth wind gently blowing, will we gradually grow, gradually happiness, sadness gradually, gradually, we are lost.
Our short life is to experience something, meet some people came. Some encounter in life, like gentle wind, snow, like (yiwu export agent) purity, should meet, then please cherish each other, give each other a warm smile, a warm hug, Xiangxi too, cherished, Should really gone, maybe not leave any regrets, I remember your world I have been to in my life have your shadow. Vicissitudes of time to write more than just wandering, there was a Shizumori, a quiet beauty. Sketch moonlight, I write and draw, describe all the thoughts became a ****** pieces of painting, set into roll of a roll, hidden in the depths of my heart, you can go to wait until spring, waiting to all things prehistoric, waiting for the world to the next reincarnation.
Life, melodious, memory or stranding, go learn to really make a person do a lonely wanderer. I was alone silently took years before the trip, like the horizon of their Su Yi Strider, became a vagabond, wandering around the world.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
You accompany the eastern wayward winds,
With your morning greetings, warm like the sun;
Waking our household and all its mundane delights
Like the intro to an upbeat Bee Gees song.
You blend comical antics into the rough routines
Like The Beatles' chorus filled with seasoned humor;
Chasing away the boring notes and sad refrains
Over lunch table and afternoon coffee hours.
You double-check the locks before the lights go out
Like a Sinatran bridge looking for guarantees
You rest in a fulfilled outro, but always prepared
To sing every unknown tomorrow's melodies.
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 9:35 PM UTC
*
Harmonies caressed my heart
in soft serenades of
whispering concertos
on the strings of my deepest desires
Acoustic symphonies,
performed on a cappella breezes
in perfectly tuned emotions,
echoed upon my longing skin
Piano compositions
sprinkled with stardust
shimmered before my enchanted eyes
in ivory colored wishes
As my mind thought back to
something I had recently read,*
“A smile is worth a million melodies”
*finally understanding its meaning ~
for when she smiled, there was music . . .
the most beautiful I have ever heard*
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Down on G street
To the left of the newspaper stand
And frame shop
The girls whistle their own names
In a cappella F minor
My fingers their all tangled up
And my feet bend inward at the toe
I'm a broken vessel for you baby
And I got nowhere else to go
Turned fifteen yesterday under a spilt milk moon
Stars were shining down and I felt my heart start to croon
Granite pastures and mile long red lips
She turned to me and said, "I'm gone," a black belt swinging from her hip
There's too much love
Not enough time
Keeping your head above water
Seems to be the only trick
At night stars tear themselves to shreds
She snores in whispering wed
Forgetting myself for the sake of St. Peter
I understand all before that were slave to the meter
Dear Beauty:
When the sun doth set
It sets solely for you.
Hair black as smoldering volcano ash
And Ye' smile
Like a newborn babies laugh
You are the mile upon minutes
And the thought that makes theories
A storm that hast ney other fury
Is one for me in love that hath
No other query.
We fight.
We beckon.
We tackle jealously
Like new lovers.
I
Am in Love
With
You.
And I can say that
When the sun sets
And the moon rises,
So the sun rises again
For us and only us.
We are the forgetful souls of foreman's work:
Not soldier's, not mercenaries,
Not one's that turn their other cheeks to the brook.
Aye thy pride
Smelling of old sweat
And talisman hide
Ol' laughter
And a memory with feigning pride.
She smells of lavender
And I lay by her
In luck - the unbelievable kind.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
She sang a cappella
so loud that the love
and her personal
Via Dolorosa
in her words
and in her melody
floated tangibly out of her lips
as if it were the
walking-wounded soldier's
letter to her
that she received many years ago.
"I miss you, darling.
I'm coming home soon,
I promise"
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
"My Curiosity"
(Whats her name? Now why won't she stop and talk to me?)
Trying all day to find the right merge, planning every way just how to quench this here urge
Now walking my way, I may come on to her, dare I not scare her, should I loose this cool...
All I want is just to take-a-peek, as she grabs my... attention: is she too shy to speak?
Until this fine girl I met; she hadn't found me yet - Well, there ain’t no crime in tryin', so don’t get so upset
It’s just my curiosity! It’s got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see
The chance comes once, only once in-a-while
We might just flip it upside-down tonight, so's I can teach her how to smile!
(Drums: Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Ba Boom Boom Bap!)
Now hidin' my face isn't what I do best - I just want to know ifin' I can pass her test
You see it makes no difference if I embarrass myself
Hell, that's the only way I know to find me somebody else
I’m a thrill hunter, not some geek, Better hurry up, like there’s no time to be meek
Some say it’s the thing that really killed the cat - Well, I got nine lives: an' I ain’t turning back
It's just...My curiosity! That's got the better, the better of me
(ay ay ay ay) I can’t help if I like what I see
Them pretty things come once, only once in-a-while
I'm gonna smash her bedroom wall, make her flower stand tall!
Say pretty lady, now maybe be sad, but I ain't no stalker or Moon howlin' mad
Say like when you give me the time of day, you might just spend a minute, not just walk away...
And satisfy, satisfy... My Curiosity!
Why, ay, ay satisfy, satisfy this: hungry guy you see!
Well satisfy, satisfy all of my curiosities
(Why ay ay) satisfy, satisfy this lonely night come see
Just make Love to Me!
David Wayne Clare (c) In Perpetuity - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
www.mynoisyplanet.com/davidjohnclare
Rockin country lyrics
Non plagiarized
crude a cappella demo on YouTube
Link here
My Curiosity a cappella demo: http://youtu.be/tBk0n8xC2TI
Thank you!
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
-Lyrix
Slow Southern Blues
a'cappella
Been so **** down
looked up to see the ground
Been so **** low
then I arose to stand tall
In those **** times
I couldn't walk at all
that was when I just
had to crawl
So **** alone
I didn't see a soul
I was so **** glad
just to see a happy fool
There was that time
I heard my children sing
Then I awoke and it was
all a **** dream
Been so **** tired
I couldn't sleep at all
Been so **** sad
I just had to laugh
Been so **** long
I never will forget
I walked too **** far
Too **** late to quit
The fox he got his hole
and the bird his nest
But a **** man like me
got no **** place to rest
Still and on I go
until the bitter end
A **** man like me
will just begin again
My greatest sin
was ever loving you
Surely once
you were almost true
In every way you know
my love was shown
But now your heart
is the devil's home
You told your **** lies
and some still believe
But in the end
your gonna' die from grief
They'll dig a shallow grave
to cover your disgrace
But until that time
I don't want to see
your **** face
There will come a day
when you know
you've been wrong
But surely then
I'll of left
and be long gone
Then you'll say
I knew him back when
Hear me say
Go to Hell
Go to Hell again
If I live to be
a billion thirty-three
God will **** you all
for what you done to me
If I die the day
before yesterday
God will **** you all
for what you would not say.
-R.
(07)
-TX
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
Stranger things have come and passed
than dreams of you and I amassed
huddled above a rainy moon, umbrella,
waltzing to an angel's choir sung a cappella,
but there we were **** and arm in arm
protected by love from any and all harm,
so when our lips did touch a silence crept,
even God's help knowing our coming end wept.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC
On the train Trevor couldn’t help but notice
Miriam’s eyes, the perfect shade of green
He didn’t have much time to make his move
So he wrote on his card
That she was the prettiest he’d ever seen
After she got off, she looked him up
He was a happening guy
So she emailed him that he wasn’t the first
To give her a card on the train
But he was the one who made her smile the most
So she explained
They dated of course then came the day
They had to take the train
In the car, as they moved along, an a cappella group began to to sing
“I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You,” the refrain
Trevor then dropped to one knee
Now she carries his name
Aug 10, 2019
Aug 10, 2019 at 1:50 PM UTC
Birds are singing a cappella
a lullaby
for your wilting light.
Drowsy flowers drooping
to doze
safely in petal folds.
Yawning colours are waning soft
in twlight's faded hue.
Night will come soon
to watch over you.
Sleep well my dear day.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
boy passes ghost-like through a curtain of weeping willow.
In rainbow-stained apparel, birds are singing a cappella.
Suddenly I sense it, in the birds and in the child:
The world is a poem growing wild.
A dewdrop on a blade of grass soon slips from where it clung
Like a perfect word that gathers on the tip of a poet's tongue.
And men are merely characters to love and be defiled.
God is a poem growing wild.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
...thought i was on the moon's surface,
tumbling high, low, over its dark craters
but, no...i was floating on the earth's atmosphere,
where winds of all seasons blow without cease
where fogs and mists do exist
where clouds do form and mold
they are, in truth, in their own world...
but, it suddenly rains
can't help it... i slowly descend...
...i am transformed into an umbrella.
for, Gene Kelly soon takes me, while singing a cappella
"I'm singing in the rain," to my ear he whispers
... and a bit later, the song, he would whistle
in his free hand, i become a blooming, pale- rose-y stunner
claiming eyes of passersby, through my magical flower power...
but...all wonderful dreams come to an end
when the aroma of steaming brew permeates the air
right through my nostrils....and i suddenly choose:
cream and sugar.........for my coffee
while reading classic works...or writing sad or crazy poetry
radio plays, "My Funny Valentine"....and i feel
like a singer, who sometimes sings off key
singing of thoughts of who i wanna be
singing of dreams of who i wanna be with
singing, i wish i could dip my feet into different seas
singing, i wish...i wish, i could travel with thee
but now, i'd rather be, there.....in my cozy nook
to slowly scan through the pages of a thick book
my life...a hardbound, glossy-paged book, rimmed with brown and gold
where half of my pages still choose to be unturned, unread, and untold
while half...the rest of me, dog-eared or otherwise, have started to unfold.
Sally
Copyright September 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC