"fortissimo" poems
Play me.
Play me like piano keys.
Play me piano, pianissimo.
Play me forte, fortissimo.
Play me like a song, gently.
Play me with feeling.
Play.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
my fortissimo
overwhelming noise
screaming in silences
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
There is no experience in the world
that I cherish more
than hearing my father play the piano.
It's imperfect and beautiful and
sounds
like
home.
The notes are often choppy, and there are pauses
as his mind turns over what keys to play next --
sort of like our lives as a family.
We're awkward
and have
broken periods,
but altogether we're making music.
Every breath a note,
every laugh a chord,
every "I love you" a harmony
that
only our family
can hear.
And there's staccato! arguments,
and there's fortissimo days with pianissimo nights,
and there's repeat on repeat on repeat,
making our lives seem
constantly andante.
But life is like a series of randomly placed fermatas --
unpredictable, yet musically enriched because of it.
And I wouldn't want it any other way.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Those were the times — exclaimed master's maid;
When youthful glow was understood —
As dust on shelves — did beauty fade;
Completely changing fair Sir's mood.
The ceremony of served tea
Remains — a consolation sweet,
As beauty brings us — peaceful glee
The Twinings charms — the air suite.
My master is for — Pianissimo;
He plays piano — violin —
Splendidly Fast and Fortissimo;
All sounds swirl into my ***** like Dream!
I'll master perfect iambs late at Night
And Metre and Rhyme will be Sir's Delight!
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
Crescendo the silent beat of hearts in chests
at all things nigh and beauty,
or lovers' eyes locked in stargaze wrest,
on cue as sunrise scarlet symphony.
Fortissimo in birdsong chirp and banter
while car horns blare with careless fervour ;
on pavements listless feet in patter
as suits and ties commute in canter.
At noon the music peaks, forzando.
Soccer mums braced in cafe convo
of lunchtime gossip in staccato
while babes in prams asleep in piano.
On cue at sundown scarlet symphony
the baton slows in rallentando.
Call to slumber twilight melody-
the daily music diminuendo.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
I wish a glock to the brain
will help cease the pain
But mama don't like blood stains
mama gon' curse God's name
clipped wings
clipped dreams
wisdom sold to the libido
What a perfect innuendo
finally free
finally me
the whiskey made me finally see
how nothing matters
but the moment in these chapters
so much color
the ambience splendor
before the lifeless daughters and sons, before the bridges burned,
there was love
ignorant boys calling girls ****** deadbeat dads deadbeat moms
Before the voices fortissimo
Before the clown smiled
I saw you from a mile
I saw me in your arms
I was calm in your arms
You had all the charm
I had sober eyes then..
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
With lift-off intention I jumped to fly.
I was something like root grounded tree.
Taking flight was so absolutely hard,
though my guru counseled me.
With acquired and studied implements
I tried to cut each holding.
My intellect in truth was rather dull,
though Spirit bolding.
In hieroglyphic's manual page 222
I intuited hints, incantations true.
Here for scheming:
Fly-O Fly-O Fly Fly-O!
I recited that fortissimo for a week
in lucid dreaming.
Then my weighed body, my un-weighed soul
together I suppose remembered it simply,
that God had intimated flight for me
(gratuitously gave).
In classical mind's eye I spied
Icarus sploshing in a wave.
Entered in-- Ab-or-ig-inal Self.
Whoa, I said, hello!
shocked at that showing.
I know... I know... I know...
with ease -- be natural, just be still.
Unequivocally state
(this way make your start)
I need help.
so I believed it
I spoke it
and then I sailed and sailed away
with freedom, my heart.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
***Book One
(∞The Psalm of The Star Child∞)
The Precursor's Psalm I-V
To the Child of The Empyrean. For ye valleity stars shine.
(I) ―En Fortissimo
1 Tender with sentimentality,
I fathom you,
2 That you draw closer, nigh’ with every waking moment,
Closer to ensconce ‘twixt my embrace,
3 That your towering arms
May aegis these benighted bones.
4 The Vestibule of Our Souls shall be
Assoiled by an Arcadian Eternity,
5 Shall scintillate in my every blooded tear, shed garnetiferously,
―Upon my crucifix, our crucifix:
6 A penance, pardoning our transgressions prognostically
Before by romance, we touched erringly.
(Se'lah)
(II) Celestial Communion
1 O, Star Child,
May your beckoning
2 Sow the Seeds of Somnus upon the sanctimony
Festering in my faith,
3 (A besmirched hope)
Tarnished by my reverenc’d doubt.
4 O Minstrel of Manumission,
Will ye sing unto me ye SoulSong?
5 The Womb’d Aethers bleed,
The Terraqueous Mother conceives, Gaian a dream,
6 Her Luminous Brethren yearn
For the Arbiter of Fates.
(Se'lah)
(III) Song of Wishes
1 Velleity speaks,
It whispers,
2 In the twinkling of the stars.
When shall it end,
3 When
It has yet to begin?
4 Be still― and become one with all things,
As time fades, consciousness begins,
5 The Experiential Cascade:
All that was, all that is, & all that shall be,
6 Circular & Cycling,
Forevermore.
7 Know that there is a reason,
Know that there is a place,
8 Know that there is a person,
In this world for you.
9 Open up your heart and see,
All you were meant to see.
(Se'lah).
(IV) Spiritus de Tempus (Zeitgeist of the Future)
1 ―Blooming in Reminiscence
The Dreamscape glistens,
2 A Redolent Reverie wafts
The Tenuous Air amidst
3 Her Zephry'd Lightwaves
& Crystalline Pulsations.
4 Ardently I pine,
For thine visage, groping for a rhyme,
5 Whence I can gaze once more upon thine
Countenance sublime,
6 All desperations been defied,
For thee I reverberate Love, The Spirit of the Times.
(Se'lah)
(V) Bastion Heart
1 The agony in existentiality
Unravels undying piety
2 And
Cloistered in cadence of solitude,
3 I, the Somnolent One,
Am roused by The Heart’s Resonance.
4 In wanting, there is life,
In desirelessness, wanting still,
5 Know thine Power,
Indomitable Will:
6 The Couer & The Amour of the Spirit
Are immortal.
(Se'lah)***
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
Flowing blue and
Majestic purple flecked with a
Staccato of yellow, marked by the
Adagio of green and
Accented silver
Caesura.
Dolce is the rosa and lapis that
Crescendo into
Fortissimo red and a
Vivace of cerulean --
Sforzando of orange!
Decrescendo into emerald, a
Morendo into the dark
Grazioso, where rests a
Fermata of rainbow.
At least this is what I see
On the black and white
Sheet of paper.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 8:35 AM UTC
When life ***** for an oyster,
It takes the little ******
And enfolds it
With sheen and color
A millimeter layer wrapping
…over, and over, and over…
another millimeter layer.
And then the oyster has a gem.
Too bad I'm not an oyster.
So when life ***** for me,
I take the little ******
And flush it out
With melody and meter
Fortissimo! Ah, no, no, no!
…ancora più, ancora più, ancora più…
Sì, sì, sì, al fortissimo possible!
And now I have a poem.
Too bad oysters don't have ears.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 4:25 PM UTC
You, my dear, are made of flesh and bone and hopes and dreams just like the rest of us; you are no automaton, no cyborg. A mere tuning fork has more metal in it than you.
But I’ll still make you sing, my dear, my mouth coaxing soft moaning melodies from your lips. These songs are lovely, lustful little testaments to the intensity of my longing, they echo off your bouts and reverberate about your waist.
Staccato gasps and a gentle crescendo of your moans follow as I bow my tongue along your neck, plucking at your curves and ********* your lengths.
I’m no archer but I see a quiver in front of me as I pull at a string.
My chin piece is the bottom of your *** and together we play a masterpiece, your breath’s ragged cadence accompanying a mezzo-piano scream. We go on like this repeatedly, each dal segno al coda pulling one more riff out of you. Eventually my strokes and your moans harmonize and we crescendo, fortissimo,
bravo.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
Fortissimo -A
The great fall,
into eerie suffocating darkness
piano pianissimo
leaving smiles on faces inverted,
frozen tears that never rolled down.
The menacing overture
grim and heavy,
crushing fortitude, grief and joy
clawing each other out,
lucidly.
Agitato -B
The angst builds,
wrenching the mind from its rational gaze
chromatic disorder seeps in,
another descent begins.
Agitation bleeds
into rivers of melancholy
flowing fervently to the ******
where famished ears await
the soulful drop of anticipation and girth.
Seduction, no heart could withstand
submission, no slave would surrender.
Coda -A
Returning to where it began,
the exposition of extremes
a collapsing sky, a violent dream.
At the edge of belief,
madness is melody
poignantly orchestrated.
Fingers that questioned doom
have retorted swiftly.
The closing is at hand;
it ends quietly.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Welcome to the Adagio of my Soul,
Where that slow, slow, sad and sweet melody
Drags me ever deeper and deeper below,
As demons and monsters in panoply
Frolic, full of cheer, in the blazing abyss.
Salute, from the Allegro of my Mind,
That dreadfully cheerful, quickening time;
The one that comes when burnt bridges I find
All around me, as insanity's rhyme
Taunts me terribly, all my world's amiss.
Enter the Fortissimo of my Heart,
While it screams out loud, oh so silently,
To its love, desperately wanting part,
The slimmest, smallest of portions to be
Returned in kind, brush of the lips, a kiss.
End. Pianissimo of my Body.
Lost love, burnt bridges, demon and monster,
Surround me. Overwhelm me. Defeat me.
I lay alone. The music grows quieter.
The song of my life, comes now to but this...
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
She sings from her wrist
And watches in marvel as the lyrics flow from her
Pulsing to her own personal beat
And with each opening, she harmonizes
Creating a chorus of voices
To drown out the ones in her head
It’s beautiful, artistic, natural
It’s filled with emotion that she bottles
And she lets it bubble forth
In red notes on soft, fleshy paper
Her thoughts finally able to find a release
Through something sharp and physical
Because her own voice is broken
Hidden, under a mountain of lies
And drowned under a sea of promises long forgotten
Devoured by a nightmare of regrets
And threatened by mistrust
She sew her mouth shut
And she covers her hands over her ears,
Stubbornly, as I try my hardest
To let my own melody slip in
Intermingle, and rearrange
to something softer, calmer
to sooth those painful voices screaming from her skin
I try to sing louder, she has to hear
It has to reach her, it must
Through late nights and dawnless mornings
Through adrenaline filled marathons home
And patient rantings to burst through the stitches
I want to quell the tempest of her mind
But my voice is growing raspy
Each song burning my throat raw
To where I can only manage a whisper
And once again I can’t be heard
And her ensemble crescendos full force
A fortissimo against my pianissimo
And I can only beg for those hands
To become weary and slip from their vice grip,
From her determination to not listen
To hear my quiet humming, because that’s all I can do
And hope that happiness will take her by the hand
And have her dancing to my quiet tune.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
The future holds
A story untold
Happy release
A love at least
Deep desire
Inside burns a fire
For a love so rich
To savor a kiss
Two lives forever
Joined through every endeavor
The future unknown
A happiness, grown
In the end it's the same
Through the sun or through rain
I love you now more than ever
We'll always be together
Stay by my side
And I'll never leave you behind
Love me, I pray
My shining ray
Your shimmering eyes
Look deep into mine
You're my start
and end
My love
and friend
A lot is too little
Let's meet in the middle
My emotions soar
Fortissimo, roar
Feelings that never go away
I'll love you tomorrow
And more each day
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
New driver with a car,
a conductor with a baton.
Weaving a coupé in and out of traffic.
Using the wand to dictate tempo.
Soon the driver is confident.
Green means allegro.
Yellow means presto.
Red, slam on your brakes.
Cruising along with no worries at all.
The driver is calm and relaxed.
Music fortissimo….head bobbing.
Fifty in a thirty….who cares?
Until the devil comes out of nowhere,
a crescendo of screeching and crushing.
Red paint on black car.
Panic strikes and the gas is mistaken for the brake.
The rest in a blur.
Hitting high note after high note.
Broken fingers and ribs.
No more directing for this composer.
And the symphony is over.
The audience is in awe.
Amazing Grace can be heard,
Playing from the other car.
Jun 11, 2010
Jun 11, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
This poem was written
For you, in the key of F#,
At a persistent tempo of 160bpm.
So, will you bring the timpani,
And sousaphone out from the
Back of this page, and let the
Brass roar at forte. It’s a glorious
Sound despite the clumsy trombone
Sliding off key; that my shaky hand trying to
Get it down right this time. The
Notes are there, and the feeling is
There, but it takes a lot to get it right,
And for one second we will feel the
Same thing in unison. I fear sometimes
My eye has surpassed my hand.
This poem was written with the passion
Of half drunken midnight karaoke in a
Bay Area China Town, but the audience still claps for the effort.
This poem was a song transposed for
The coyote barbershop quartets, to
Sing me awake at night.
This poem was written, because
I don’t want to love you anymore,
And I’m trying to love us, in all
Our beautiful discord, and for
The one time in a thousand where
The notes fall in to place,
As the wind instruments hum
And the choir sings at fortissimo
And for one second you hear what
I've been trying to get out, like a bad singer
Finally hitting the right note, we will feel the
Same thing at once, and our minds swing
Together in time.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
here sit i
a skalded-babe
at a prison-box of
metal and wood and plaster.
chained for the span
of the elf's glory passing,
i shuffle leaves of wood
from in to out.
i move the hamsterwheel forward inch by inch,
or i runabout in a
runic-neon-field,
with my cheesy,
tailess-rodent, biting
and chewing away,
for the need of budget burning yeilds.
if lucky some snail mail
may come to relieve
the electronic humdrum.
if not,... i suppose,
i can knock on the world wide, spiders-door, enter
the ether-frame...
and see the cat, playing
piano, badly in fortissimo.
or be a mouse-jockey
in the web-led rodeo
then when the elf's are done
home to hearth,
i will run,in the rover of the land.
to sit by whale road on
golden sand.
and go make fodder for
the artisan-sawdust-man and the child.
for us to eat with carrot-comb and steak-stabber
before sitting down
replete,
for a night in with the
zombie-creator.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
An exponential explosion
losing potency
the orb of energy gasps
with its last act, fortissimo
the universal pattern emerges
unsurprising, yet ambiguous
arms as fluid as
the harp of Orpheus
hands of grace
caress the faces that appear
a clinging flitter
dwindling into the abyss
with your passing
the beautiful cycle continues
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
I feel as though I am drowning in a song with no sound
Faceless voices echo the anxiety reflected on my keyboard
The mirrored image in your midnight gaze is that of my own
After life, oh my god, what an awful word
You should have held my hand
You should have kissed my *******
You should have busted my lip raw and tender
Perhaps then would spill the poetry lost and forlorn inside of me
Inside of me, you want within?
Your ears pressed softly against my chest
My thighs pressed tight against your hips
Mezzo forte, pianissimo, fortissimo
....
*Do you want to step outside, or do you want it right ?
I don't know just what I feel, but I feel it all tonight .*
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
I am the melody that sends shivers through your skin.
I am the song stuck in your head
Though my song isn’t the prettiest
You are the harmony that fills the void in my tune
As I wander up and down the scale
Jumping octaves
Skipping notes
You are the consistent beat of the drums
Holding my song together
Keeping me in the right measure
I could not play this song without you
I am the black keys
You are the white
Though we could play a chord without the other
That’s not the song I’d write
Let’s write a song that’s never been heard
We’ll hammer keys with fingers held firm
Intent on composing life’s perfect score
We’ll keep playing when our fingers grow sore
Hold down the pedal to sustain our sound
Crescendo to Fortissimo
And never slow down
My Melody
Your Harmony
Until the curtain call.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
I fear I am an wallflower
ethereal
pianissimo to your fortissimo
head bowed
malleable as clay
molding
stretching
shaping my tongue to be silent
You took the beast within and
removed it's claws
it's fangs
any defense it had
I smiled all the while
baring the pink of my gums
the shade of welts
and a soft flowers bloom
To you, I am the wrong note
in a roaring crescendo of a
symphony
nevertheless, stirring embers come to rest
in the corners of my mouth
and I like them.
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC
You play a perfect harmony to the music of my soul
In 4/4 time the last measure is our goal
You conduct me along with the swift movements of your bow
Sweat collects on your prominent brow as you hit the note a little too low
Andante to vivace my heart rushes to tempo
We hold our fermata embracing the moment, slow
The notes sit on the page while my thoughts dance with the rhythm
They leap and they frolic to the sounds of the broken hymn
A little sharp, maybe flat
Our pulses quicken assai, as though Haydn intended that
Like the Baroque Era wrote for us and our meetings in private
Our handshakes that last long and our glances that are silent
But it won’t last and we will face the caesura of our love
It transpires as we ignore the baton waving above
Our duet will end as it started, quickly, like the flight of a dove
Le Carnaval Des Animaux replicates my scrambled mind
No matter how hard I search, the answers I cannot find
In hectic chaos I’m blind to the clearest option staring straight at me
A simple kiss will suffice in helping me see
For to be the maestro I must know every part
Feel each chord progression and triad deep down in my heart
A kiss will answer if these feelings are true
Or if because of my dreams I have sudden interest in you
Whether the moment is a roar of fortissimo glory
Or it is a disappointing sforzando into the diminuendo of our story
Do you feel a crescendo when our eyes meet for a second?
Like we’re calling each other closer and with each blink we’ve beckoned
One another to draw in the coda finale
Together we may join and our notes, they will rally
By the last bar they’re in unison and our cadence is clear
The next movement will begin, there is nothing to fear
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
i am my favorite song
i am rhythms and patterns, strategically placed
i am mezzo-piano
i am fortissimo
I am dynamics and crescendo
i am all the words i don't know
i am the sound of my guitar
with the "phaser" **** turned up
i will be amplified, i will be loud
and looped
and manic.
im the noise you can't get out of your head
i am sound
i am a whisper and a shout
perfectly blended
i am velocity
i am the build-up
and then the drop
i am the echo in a dark room
i am my favorite song.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
To the beat of a piano he stole
her heart.
In the same melody
and measure, he broke and left
it crumpled - crushed - crescendo.
Nothing but brittle - bruised - broken.
Out of tune.
Missing keys.
Mixing tears with toothpaste
and listening to a heartrending piano play.
Salt and ivory.
Colgate and ebony.
Repeat. With
Rhythm. There are
no words to this song.
Say something.
Silence - fortissimo.
Toothpaste and tears
trickle down the drain.
At the conductor's swift notion -
she remembers herself with love -
Adagio -
Then steps off her tear-stained
stage of a soapbox.
Al niente.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC