This is it
the last trumpeting and drumbeat
once loud, boisterous,
beating anticipation at the open gate,
greetings to the world, brilliant, powerful, stately,
intense, a spiritual singularity victorious
accompanied by the drum rolls
a life well-loved and lived'
a thundering barrage, resonating roar
time exhausted, expired
deliberate and steady beats,
last pulsations in the universe,
the stars and moon dancing
to a fading out,
the dream over, complete,
played by the orchestral;
the symphony in one last tango
a quavered upbeat echoing
spinning, whirling, twirling with memories
content, satisfied, without the need of control,
images and visions lost in time
from past to the ever-present now
simple harmonic call without words,
without breath looking back with no regrets;
my final goodbye.
The Enemy
He was sleeping when he felt the edge of the knife
Cold, sharp, hard against his throat.
“I am going to kill you now” the enemy said.
“Freind” said the waking sleeper
“You can kill me if you choose
“I lay here helpless at the cutting edge of your razor
“But before you spill my blood
“And leave me gurggling here in its spreading stain
“Please think on what I am about to say
The keen edge trembled and quavered
“Go on” the enemy said.
“Friend, you may kill me, end my life
“If you so choose
“But it is not me, who will die
“But you
“I will go on, on to the eternal realms
“The next life awaits
“I am unafraid of death
“But you my friend, you will live
“And carry in your conscience this thing you did
“You will know
“You will carry this deed long after
“And forever in your immortal soul
The enemy hesitated, but a moment
Before slitting the victims throat
Such is the monumental stupidity
Of the enemy
"And against stupidity; even the Gods themselves; contend in vain" ( Issac Asimov )
Chosen, tantalised, to there so close thine eyes, in musical moments,
Released all cares through reaching recitals, so buried now within the stave's,
Fingers flexing, skilfully etching, a melody of all the heart to both hear and see.
Exciting sounds of pure perfection, racing to the senses from all direction.
Resounding then loud, so as to hear the beat of heart,
Memories in music then a part,
Quavered and crocheted, in poetic abundance.
Such the resonance the soul to see!
Traverse me there then, upon the clouds of Clarinet!
Wing me wandered, upon the Harps repose.
Vail me unshaded in stringed ecstasy of Violin,
For then in all my heart and mind they do so sing!
Chorus me in carpets then, of orchestrated bliss!
So finely woven intricate, in Oboes saddened kiss.
That all of this can take me so to heavens new,
That all of symphony, could make my heart renewed!
Reeling me, searching me! So to find!
The ache of stirring reeds, enriches the mind,
Coaxing me then so now, to a winged height,
With music formed in fretted sagacious sound!
In music then, there is poetry found!