My steps sketch themselves in charcoal on this sunlit path.
My brushes lose their way upon the open canvas of life.
Shadows are rare this morning, and yet still awaited.
A white merges with the vast blue of the sky in a blessed instant.
Creation is an alchemy that opens the gates of paradise.
The palette, a deep breath unfolding its wings of color.
Poetry, the blender of life’s hues, shapes a shelter.
Letting these sparks of brightness slip away warms the heart.
Feeling a breeze of emotions invade us then fade.
Performing a light and steady gesture that touches the heart.
Weaving a cloth of colors to finally watch it soar.
Opening the sky to the vibrations of the purest sounds is flattering.
Perceiving a silence laying its imprint as it withdraws.
Watching this universe of tones glide quietly toward the invisible.
Sensing this lesson unfold in a hesitant gesture.
To the arpeggio of light is bound what is born unspeakable.
— Joël Charvillat
Dusk fell like dust.
And in the hush of the night
Stars twinkle in splendid formation:
There an Orion, or a Little Bear
Or the famous Pleiades.
So many glitters that dot the vast sky,
In essence a melody superbly charged,
Like magic fingers on an enormous scale,
Delightful arpeggio eliciting occasional sounds
Into an allegro that has one great maestro:
The silver moon that directs all
Into a masterful sonata as its rays
Penetrate on lovers as they dream
Or make love in their various restful places.
Hush, I see many on their sailing boats
Their sail cloth glimmering in silver hues
Upon the vast calm waves of the ocean
With movements of contrasting moods,
A waltz that is so refined in splendid silver sonata.
Of beauty and dreams that fade on sunrise.
Hard FOOT SOFT SOUL Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY #2
Hard foot soft soul
Oh, you gotta go
Hot foot soft soul dance
Hot axe bop step in chance
Hard foot soft soul
Plays as you step cool jazz
Hard foot hot soul
Man seize the night play the axe
Cool is the jazz
Setting episode of the angel dance
Drumming beats
Percussion sweet
Pirouette quick turn and run
Man in the corner blowin the horn
Bridge fusion beat music arpeggio (give me some)
Hard foot soft soul
Oh, you gotta go
Hot foot soft soul dance
Hot axe bop step in chance
Hard foot soft soul
Plays as you step cool jazz
Hard foot hot soul
Man seize the night play the axe
Hard FOOT SOFT SOUL
10/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY #2
Fluttering fingertips
on ebony and ivory
gently ascending
like the wings of
a white butterfly~
then gradually descending~
fading like a sleepy sun.
Tender instrumental pauses ~
transposing into heart beats
like the silence between I
and LOVE~ and YOU
when you utter them
in our nocturnal tryst.
Dulcet moonlight melodies ~
in shifting harmonies of arpeggio;
Lingering like the touch of your fingertips
on my cheeks as you kiss me goodnight.
14 February 2021
Notes: Liebesträume (German for Dreams of Love) is a set of three solo piano works (S. 541/R. 211) by Franz Liszt, published in 1850. Originally the three Liebesträume were conceived as lieder after poems by Ludwig Uhland and Ferdinand Freiligrath. (Source: Wikipedia)
All Yours ( February 14) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st Place
I am attracted by
Virtuous notes
A capable sound
From a Steinway & Sons grand piano
A mighty orchestra
Unknown melodies
A child prodigy at the keyboard
A Gift of Peace
The hammer that strikes golden strings
Of a grand piano.
Bravo. Hurrah.
A Laurel, a performance hardly heard
Attentive spectators rejoice
The vaults of the concert hall
Reflect corpulent sounds
Gershwin’s Allegro or Lento
'Scherzo Con Brio' without hardship
The child pianist
That angels also listen
Of a talent that inebriates like wine
And the key to a distant remembrance
It is now a choral
Then a horn sound
Of at an Imperial Andante
Then the violins all around
Fiery Rondo. Dreamy adages.
Arpeggio and a madrigal
Finally, the Grand Finale
Without hesitation
Play the bugle taps,
as the freedom flag is raised half-mast
Democracy is dystopian dead,
it’s a Greek tragedy
Hear that funeral procession drum roll,
and the coffin timbre of
brass octaves oval
A reed eulogy of arpeggio dictator notes
Oh, how sad were the ears
upon the protest-stricken faces;
their eyes downcast, ballot sick
Heavy metal blue sound,
cobalt cold
Strident trump tones blow D-flat autocratic
Listen unwell to the little horn disconcerto,
delivered at the Constitution burial
A tyrannical cacophony of tubular staccato
Play the discordant brass taps,
for the half-raised liberty flag is sundown past
Democracy got sent flatline sinking,
by lip valves KGB
furiously blowing off-key —
A treacherous windpipe blast
Such a submersed siren sound
The mighty city-state
(between the shores)
got voter sold as Styx cemetery property
O what a Greek tragedy!
She watched him pluck the strings.
His fingers up and down the frets
of her spine,
pulling out notes and moans
from deep within the cavity
of her hollowed-out chest.
Apollo’s golden lyre lulling the muses
beyond their sensibilities.
Grooves of passion causing a riff
and changing his tune.
Needing space like air.
The Pied Piper’s pitch filling
the acoustics in the room.
The arpeggio scaffolding and bending,
burning the bridge and lacing
the capo around her neck,
causing her to fall flat.
Vibrato measured
in octaves and picked over.
Metronomic dissonance clashing
through their progression
Until the blue notes scaled her back
into a solo improvisation.
Distant piano music,
or is it the speech of a banjo
unearthed from some attic prison?
Wait, do I hear a flügelhorn moaning,
or is that a different conversation?
Brahms plucks at his peppery beard,
glissando and arpeggio flutter
into mountains of buttery mutter.
We the players and listeners
twist our ears into ad hoc rock bands,
countering the contradictions
through inaudible librettos.
Bless you, you fish-faced plods,
can't you hear the bubbles in your heads
how they practice and refrain -
echo-on as your own wagging
tone-deaf tongues?
There once a lady from a town in Ontario
Who was always causing quite a scenario
Exposing her varooomer
Guys became crooners
Wailing away in a brilliant arpeggio
There once a lady from a town in Ontario
Who was constantly causing quite a scenario
Exposing her varoomer
Guys became crooners
Wailing away in a brilliant arpeggio
Bereft..
tingles and sway
deserted
heartstrings bestilled..
I yearn
for the thrill of the dance
and for ravishing trills of arpeggio moments..
widowed..
the capriccio
has died;
lifeless in swoon-less inertia
I pine
for zealous zephyrs to float my cloudless notes
and kiss me aquiver -
to shiver my craving broken chords
in the lusty bluster of his imaginative airs
and the lively magic of his lyrical lovemaking
wistful
without whispers
blue
without wind-songs
chant-less..
I suffer in silence -
awaiting
my escapade
in the windy caprices
of his mind-blowing dalliances..
for neither of us can sing without the other.
Susan Ashley
September 14, 2018
~ Third Place ~
Best Free Verse July 1 - October 1, 2018
John Hamilton
*Capriccio: 1. Music; a lively piece composed freely and without adhering to the rules of any specific musical form. 2. A whim; caprice.*
*Caprice: 1. A sudden, unpredictable change, as of one’s mind or the weather. 2. A sudden, unpredictable change in attitude, behavior, etc; whim. 3. Another word for capriccio.*
There once a lady from Newmarket, Ontario
Who was constantly causing quite a scenario
Exposing her vavooomer
Guys became crooners
Wailing away in a brilliant arpeggio
She’s still; an interlude in solitude.
Twilight mournful, his voice ghostly distant,
introspection.., meditation imbued,
she sits alone, bitter-sweet existent.
Lamentations she weeps in glissando.
Cacophony! Consciously in discord,
love reminisce, arpeggio tempo,
she sits alone, remembrance, two-edged sword.
Bethought bliss, wedded they waltzed plucking notes,
of musical blues and exotic spiced scents…
their life of love evocative emotes,
she sits alone mingling blessings - repents.
Chrystal-tone melodies, bass-tone longing,
Moonlight Sonata melancholy eyes..
pain and pleasure, her reverie thronging,
she sits alone, his ghostly voice in guise.
Susan Ashley
August 5, 2017
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Best Rhyming Poem July-September 2017
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Third Place ~
Contest: She Sits Alone
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Sometime,
Your feet in the mud,
Several hours left,
What is the echo of each step
We need to stop, take a look,
What we have seen is strange
In the way that we travel.
I branched out, I open myself to the dark
And the bright. First my form,
seen and known.
Nothing prepares us for the truth
Of gestures and silence,
More difficult in its most abstract form.
Our steps hold us as
A pure philosophy of dreams.
Press the thumb on the temple,
Inquire into the length of the braided rope
And cling to the steep wall.
Know if we live among eroded raindrops
And the acceleration of the clocks.
Sunrise Smile
Soft beneath concerto skies,
sonnets of sand dune reaches
and deserted isle longings
sing harmony in a tropical key
as symphonic breezes sway palms
in warm arpeggio footsteps
bringing me ever closer
to the melodic beauty
of your sunrise smile
Good morning Soupers
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