Someday
(We'll be feeling our pride)
By Michelle Morris
29/09/2020
Chorus
Oh-oh and someday...
Oh-oh someday...
Oh-oh someday...
Oh-oh and someday...
(end chorus)
We'll be there under the sun
We will be loving as one
We know that our love is true ooh ooh...oh...
We'll hold our hands outside
We'll be feeling our pride
No more secrets to hide ooh ooh...oh...
Chorus
We'll be there under the sun
We will be loving as one
We know that our love is true ooh ooh...oh...
We'll hold our hands outside
We'll be feeling our pride
No more secrets to hide ooh ooh...oh...
Chorus
Choir
Clap hands and sing chorus as contrapuntal to fade out...
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Contrapuntal Poem Form Attempt 1
Pat's "New" Hat
A short disagreement
“I’ve no time for your senseless chitchat”
Nodding horizontal heads were sent
“Explain yourself you dirty rat”
Out of shape we both were bent
“Best of luck against my baseball bat”
Waiting for a compliment
“You really think you look good, Pat?”
Misunderstanding what was meant
“You cannot assume I meant that”
Or what was the real intent
“Just give me back my hat”
A Disagreement (Contrapuntal part 1)
A short disagreement
Nodding horizontal heads were sent
Out of shape we both were bent
Waiting for a compliment
Misunderstanding what was meant
Or what was the real intent
Pat Stole My Hat (Contrapuntal part 1)
“I’ve no time for your senseless chitchat”
“Explain yourself you dirty rat”
“Best of luck against my baseball bat”
“You really think you look good, Pat?”
“You cannot assume I meant that”
“Just give me back my cowboy hat”
Left to their own improvisation
They swirl around each other
In search of the perfect melody
One they'll be in sync with every sway
A rhythm so smooth and soothing
Love the main instrument of their music
A finely tuned sax creating luscious sensations,
Echoing in every fiber of their musical being
Occasionally trading-off, to listen to each other's beats
Quietly going on wild adventures of call and response
Albeit, they always find their way back to the melody
Affectionately falling into a silent contrapuntal rhythm
The jazzy hearts dance to the music of love.
A contrapuntal harmony made from pure
singing mathematical light.
The music cannot be denied,
it flows on like a silk dragon
over rolling savanna.
The hairs in my ears begin to dance,
the notes are calling out prismatic stars,
not the ones we see
but suns born in the shadowy cells
of our own fallen angels.
Contrapuntal lines
of
floating/flowing
ebullient/euphonic
sounds
gradually
evolve/revolve
around/through
space & time
------
Vibrating images
of
floating/flying
protean/penetrative
holons
slowly
evolve/revolve
around/into
void & plenum
------
Resonant fields
of
fleeting/furtive
enlightened/ethereal
fragments
quickly
evolve/revolve
around/from
earth & space
ooo---;&***^^^^^**&;---ooo
The answer to the question
I asked you about
is already known
the meaning of it all
the way to the answer
for only you knew
has already been shown
what happened that day
the key to the door
when everything changed
is already in hand
and I stood there alone
the way to every shore
with the keys to the door
is found on the land.
jangling in my hand.
HORN
The song washed over me
like shadow and light among
fast-moving clouds in unsettled
conditions before a dangerous
storm
But the more I listened, less was
the word and more was the song
about the sound of a horn
It was lurking in the shadows
behind the voice of the singer,
sprinting with the drummers on
the high ledges of rhythm, hidden
then revealed then hidden again like
a wary big cat in the camouflage
of lyrics and the details of score
As the words drove deeper toward
the distraction of meaning the
horn grew bold, leaping across
octaves like a mad mountain lion,
clawing with gusto at the texture
of the melody, dropping its scent
on the territory of the singer
like a young male in heat with
a brass attitude of contrapuntal
defiance, dominating the
harmony, devouring the music,
defining the song!
Part One.
A silent yawn, the moon awakes.
Compels its patron planet's shape.
As oceans shift by its command
And with its might recasts the land.
Below the lunar rings of mist,
A strip of cloud, a stolen kiss.
The harvest yields a poet's line
on hay-rides of forgotten rhyme.
Part Two.
While far beneath the grain we reap,
Magnetic powers guard our sleep;
But in this source protecting Earth,
It warps the minds of some at birth
A missing foresight of control,
Malignant thoughts that urge, cajole.
Your moonlit steps they wait to hear;
A twisted grin, as you grow near.
Iambic Tetrameter / Cateletic.
Rhyme / AA-BB
Gene Bourne
02-02-14
.
Surreal Nature
Rural Oklahoma: Cool autumn night on the front porch, thoughts and opinions about poetry and painting shared with a dear friend over wine and water. Poetry is sacred she said, and painting is my inner life. Painting was once my wild mind, I replied, but poetry’s now my amateur art.
moon’s half-darkness...
shy in its suit of light
shadows of pines
Three “yips,” almost unnoticed. Coyotes she said, tricksters in authentic guise playing their night games. A cow’s bawl close by, in a moment silenced by a contrapuntal victory chorus, soprano and tenor voices singing to the darkness in celebration of success – a kill.
moon behind clouds
balance... the meaning of
beauty & death
Written 10.08.2013
Little Pigeon River
Little Pigeon River’s
water lullaby,
the flow’s soft percussion
against mossy green
rounded river rocks,
multi-layered,
contrapuntal,
a faint hiss,
tiny scrapings
as small stones
are settled into place
by the cold current,
my eyes heavy,
sleep waiting nearby.
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