Melancholy melody of mania and madness.
Ceaseless Swan song a symphony of sadness.
Counter to composure comes cacophony of chorus.
Oscillating operatic overture of Opus.
Flower~~~ The Chinese Rose
10/30/2023
Words do not impress me at all.
Unless, they have a truly, human call.
Some, you dust with moonbeams!
Such poems inspire my dreams.
Some of your words, soft as the tone of a waterfall.
Others,like a pine tree, tall,with operatic bird calls.
So keep, penning, in the style which you do desire.
It’s your candidness, that is my most primary desire!
I have always tinkled
From a very young age
On the ivory dashboard
From the dots on the page
The musical freedom
Of the song never sung
The releasing of passions
On which I too readily clung
There's a beauty in music
Like a God given joy
From operatic piano
To the cheap plastic toy
It matters not anytime
Any place you can find
If you call out to music
It responds in a rhyme
Your heart will be full
From the start to the end
With a strange, mystic healing
Any fracture, can mend
CV
A restless sky becomes
a high operatic act,
a bright stratosphere
stage lights that performance art.
Then there is the counterpoint
of a calm cloudiness,
slow variations
writing airy, occasional music.
Clouds scud and billow,
a nymphic dance
dressed to mesmerize.
The misty nebular is symphonic,
always beginning
always unfinished.
Rhythmic movements
that are joined
to the beat of your heart.
When you gaze through
that first window of light,
when you raise your spiritual baton
in that open air concert
you are both
the music and the audience.
Skilled songbird on a fence stump.
Diva on a dais!
Ensuring, for what's brought, more'ore
Of grandness to the fore
Whilst lit of morn, from behind
Are facing, window-bright
Bed's uprisen, roused in the heart
Swollen praise on our part.
Gorgeous Brady was only ten
when he grabbed an old violin,
which belonged to his wealthy grandpa
Jacob and started playing, " Lacrimosa.
Some chords sounded too awkward,
he persisted and finally got them right;
why did he play that song never heard?
Had he in mind a sweet serenade night?
Brady didn't show a sign of boredom,
but continued playing with confidence,
the small theater was missing an audience;
he didn't mind, he wasn't seeking stardom.
One could hear his impeccable passion through his music,
the notes were loud and shook the clock's pendulum;
his speed picked up a dramatic, operatic momentum...
a chorus of Ooh's Oh's would make it sound angelic.
" Bravo! " A well-dressed man stepped forward,
Brady stared at him and smiled for the compliment,
" May I know the name of this genius imitating Mozart?"
" I'm Brady and I live in the cobblestone building."
" Then you must be Jacob's nephew: the owner of the theater! "
Brady nodded and shook the maestro's hand sensing its power;
would you like to team up with Mark the orchestra pianist?
He agreed and went on to became a famous violinist!
She never entered a ghetto.
She perfected a high-pitched falsetto.
At the Carnegie Hall
she could both enthrall and appall
as she shredded every libretto.
She's up there with her heavenly peers,
Where many angels must now plug their ears
There is a squat/stout duffer in a windbreaker and a Mets cap on the outskirts of the park
playing a rickety 5 string and hoot'in and holler'in.
I have no idea what he is singing.
There is no discernible melody.
Every now and then he stops/ freezes/ puts his forefinger in the air
to take some sort of measure
before plunging back into his flailing guitar.
After another stuttering burst he will stop/
then let loose with an elongated cry to the sky/
punk operatic/ style
nobody seems to stop/and listen/he does not have a container for contributions and probably would not get much trade/
he is playing/for his own/self/and that is / enough
It's/utterly senseless/ wholly out of key.
Beyond the realm of anything/
resembling cohesive musicality
/rambunctiously obtuse
yet imbued with an innocence that casts proficient excellence into a pallid light.
His songs/ performance/ like life/ a messy and inconclusive/ thing/
You can have/ your polished practice and Carnegie aspirations/
and make of that an evening/ with class
but I like the way this codger lets her rip/
this ragged chanteur/
airs it out/ no class/ no talent/ but lotsa / style
predictable pairing
like plans and lovers
two sparrows fly, flirt
wing beats hyped
to dull the scent of overcrowded news
in spring air, grinning
scrappy species
two birds that pitch and swoop
an operatic flow
their sheen of relatability
braided together
a courtship gallantry
in circled bolts
when two birds fly about you
suspenseful joy
like an untroubled sigh
re-directing thought
seasonal movement
a flight of promise
that opens to the sky
Lilly Fay was an operatic singer
Touted as being a diva humdinger
She could hit High C,
Easy as could be
But up there it's impossible to linger.
written March 25, 2022
Just like a pearl in the operatic ocean,
like a devotee's deep devotion ,
like the flowers in the summer spring,
like a guitar's smooth string,
like the rhythm to my divine drum,
like an athlete's relaxing run ,
like the twinkling of the soulful stars,
like the subtle inkling of bounteous bars,
like an artist's charismatic canvas,
like the blissful lands of everlasting ecstasy,
you are my soulful symphony,
you alone are my boat of tremendous treasure
and my Pride is of magnanimous measure !!!
Just like a pearl in the operatic ocean,
like a devotee's deep devotion ,
like the flowers in the summer spring,
like a guitar's smooth string,
like the rhythm to my divine drum,
like an athlete's relaxing run ,
like the twinkling of the soulful stars,
like the subtle inkling of bounteous bars,
like an artist's charismatic canvas,
like the blissful lands of everlasting ecstasy,
you are my soulful symphony,
you alone are my boat of tremendous treasure
and my Pride is of magnanimous measure !!!
Obsession
Obsession with "O's"
Oh, obsession’s obfuscating oligarchy
Oceans of oblivion
Outrage in ostentatious obsession
Overrun in hurricanes named obdurate and obstinate
Overtures of oxidized compulsive orchestration in
Obbligatos overflowing obituaries -
Overbearing octaves of the obsequious –
Orations of overt objections
Objectivity overpopulated by opportunistic obtuse –
Obsession outweighing optimist’s objectives –
Openness offspring overrun by
Ominous hunters of sweet oblations ordained
Oscillating between logic and obsession unchallenged
Orthodoxy obscures opportunity
Officially ostracizes open-mindedness –
Original the outsider - occupied the outlier -
Observes only obstructive operations
Obedience to the one-track offertory
Of overstocked outdated ordinances,
Offshoots of outmoded operatic ornaments
Odious opium overdose of the obscene
Onyx odors overpowering odes
Offered on the altar of originality -
Obliterating oligarchy of obsession
9-23-21
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest: “O” Contest
The big swordsman sings
Cling!
The shy samurai
Used clanging on a mortal stones and metal bowls
Cling!
Are you upset by how large it is
Operatic kitchen
Clang!
It doesn't tear you apart to see this swordsman so mountainous
The voices tralala wireless is large hands he swing
He whose such a songster, martial artist chef and cook
He is a singing samurai
Cling
5/30/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
On this quiet day, his deep-set eyes catch my mischievous glances
For our love has always been filled with late-night dances
With an empty bottle of wine on the table, two pairs of left feet intertwine into blissful trances
Intoxicated by our joyous passion, our spirits become an operatic symphony
His vibrato harmonizing with my melisma in total synchrony
And as the conductor beckons for the climax, our voices sing until we reach euphoric ecstasy
As we hold each other’s wrinkled hands and breathe in unison, I savor this moment’s tranquility
Recounting the times of our youth when he was filled with virility
And I with my ever-present felicity
How powerful our bond and absolutely pure in its resiliency
And with this truth, I find peace in this love that fills me with invincibility
Even as we wait for slumber’s infinity
Oh, this love of serendipity
Our body, mind, and soul becoming the holy trinity
I can’t believe we were blessed with this divinity
The type of love God intended as we shared our hearts unconditionally
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