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Marissa Wargo Jan 2011
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.
For the musicians.
Eleanor Sinclair Apr 2018
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
Moss filled centurions don golden jackets
Raindrop prisms , shuttle rhythms  ...
Brook melodies , a dragonflies pitch ..
A perfect fourth , a perfect fifth ..
A jays morning arpeggios ..
A bullfrogs sforzando , a herons-
adagio , meticulous crickets posing with bows held-
high , a murders cackling cantabile in praise of a cloudless-
sky , katydids stand at attention along the-
forested path by the light ..
Evergreen whirligigs begin to shower the -
earth to the symphony of the waltz , the -
wildflower and the newfound birth ...
Copyright September 22 , 2023 By Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

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