You speak, and my spine remembers
that I was built to bow.
Your breath: a nocturne in C sharp minor—
unasked, entering…
disarming, following.
You lean in like Chopin leaned on silence—
possessively, melancholic need
before sound—searing hushes that
demand submission in return.
And I am raindrops to your
sustaining notes….
storming into the song’s development—
I become the keys, and you the fingers…
—you press out sounds of me—
architectures, arts, poesy,
nocturnes of surrender
rising in my throat…
into yours.
NOCTURNES
the
unquiet
street
of
autumn haze
illicit
circumstance
an
idealistic
illusion
a paradox
made manifest
in
precise in
precepts
of
intention
concentrated
attention
in
straddled
objectives
https://youtu.be/-gDinVAmtA0
Chopin Nocturnes
Listen....autumn rain is gently falling
Within enchanted hour of twilight sky.
In my heart, Chopin is softly calling
Lovely piano notes that make me cry.
As Luna slowly rises in the east
Her soft lambent glow lightly veiled in shrouds,
Taming the spirit of both man and beast
By roaming mesmerizing misty clouds.
My spirit soars within this peaceful scene
Enthralled by every note of Chopin's tune.
Beguiled in nature's calm, I feel serene
As stars appear and mingle with the moon.
This music and enchanted night reveal
New hope my mourning heart will one day heal.
January 13, 2021
Poem of the Day January 14, 2021
Fractured nocturnes salute the moon
Carried on by those who tarry
Perpetual is the duality of reality
Distorted by conflagration
Rose petals drift from a purple sky
Red over white, blue over red
The stars so rest in an apathetic state
It's too late to turn back the date
They were frozen in crystal
But beautiful so it's supposedly okay
From seeds burst radiant flowers
If given the chance to grow
Never a more forsaken moment
Than in the end of a life
The dissolution of all that binds
At the expense of humankind
NOCTURNES BY MIDNIGHT
AND for every memory whose hands have touched
my hungry lonely moments; I am always here,
between laughter and weeping; singing and
shouting. Just today (which I realize is
everyday in eternity) I walked across a crack
that contained my soul; the sidewalk made of
gold. And while I write feeble words to express
emotions that are unobtainable the other more
whole piece of my heart is sleeping in a distant
land; a place where upon the grace of God
laid a golden egg that born my true peace and
happiness. Her love constructed my world
before she was born and before I knew her
human name. The indescribable has a song
and colors and feelings; the light between
swaying branches of a tree; the smell of a
new word; the touch of tender sight and
undying kisses from a breeze from nature.
Knows.
And we are the children yet to be born.
And some who are grown but dead children.
The unknown.
:: 09-13-2017 ::
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