Best Fantasymusic Poems
THE COLOR OF THE WIND WHICH IS WEDDED TO WINTER’S MUSE AND
MUSIC
What, color is music?
Is it the color of your lover’s eyes as you wade at water’s edge?
Or more like the colors you view when a child’s giggle makes you young again?
Then again, they could be muted colors…………………….
opaque in nature,
but suddenly you breathe on them and alas they glow once more
Royal colors crowned and crowded with admirers who stand in awe of hues hewn with precision
Yet if I had to make a decision
I would be urged to opine that music is the color of enjoyment enveloping this entire planet
which could be in peril
Allow the music of*laughter to echo through the deepest tunnels and over every triumphant
mountain
Or music could be the color an artiste must employ when joy reaches into one’s soul and tells
you that no matter what, be content with that which you were blessed to own,
And never fill your cup to overflow with the color of greediness or music made to grieve
Music is not, of course the color of anger or jealousy
As for me I am making music my master who advises me to do things zealously
For after all, where would i be without the magic of music in the middle of madness at
midnight?
Whatever color music is I know it’s has to be majestically and brilliantly bright
And can deafen us to all but mellow melodies
That’s it
Music is the color of a mid-August breeze
when heat heavies your heart and music gives birth to ease
Music is blue as that breeze which gently blew
While Mrs. Levy’s laundry sways as it clings to a rope,
suspended on the serenity of a symphony sewn of silk
Music is the color of everything built and born of beauty that belies the notion that an emotion
is nay a color as well
And oh how much music is there in the vociferous voice of one single bell
Music is the color of a hundred pipers piping as their numbers increase
Music is made when a war has cause to cease
Therefore music must be the color of peace
© 2011.….Poefree
* take the word “laughter” and make an “S” be the first letter before “L”
Within the walls and pillars of an oriental palace,
Sacramental prayers lift the veils of a spirit dancer,
From the fire and smoke like the white granite stone of beauty;
She dances to the tune of captivating music lore.
Playing in thoughts of a devoted mind her curves resonate,
Mixing music beats with her hand held jingling instrument,
Intoxicated raptures crush the onlookers in joy;
Tormented the soul is plundered by a divine ecstasy.
Where there is smoke can the ignited fire be left far behind?
For the heart burns as the soul rises to true jinxed freedom.
I was sort of hoping,
That you would come along,
Like the answer to a prayer,
And the music to a song.
Like the kind of thing that happens,
At a special place and time,
That will change our lives forever,
Like a fantasy of mine.
The fantasy was there before,
I never knew your name,
And now that I have found you,
We will never be the same.
So, pardon, if I look at you,
Forgive me if I stare,
At the fantasy I knew before,
I saw you standing there.
For I was always hoping,
That you would come along,
Like the answer to a prayer,
And the music to a song.