Lento is the rhythm our hearts once beat.
Mementos we idealized from the past.
Tempos orchestrate our crushing defeat
Crescendos into what could never last.
Of course, we loved the blessed symphony
Endorsed sacred songs mutually shared.
Divorce brought along its cacophony
Forced a melody of chaos unrepaired.
Judges and lawyers pulling wicked strings
Trudges to the beat of our tragic age.
Grudges hammering the half-notes that sting
Besmudges our reputations with rage.
We shall forever cherish the sweet lento.
The easy swing of love so compliant.
Sheet music must come to an end though.
Be in separate beds lone and silent.
Her smile was so brilliant
she smiled knowing I couldn't
find the right words to decribe what I
needed.
When I did I than took it right
to her so she could wipe
that silly smile right from
her face.
The conversion module
could take your music,
humming, or audio recordings
and automatically convert
them into musical
notes and sheet music
I was so happy to find this
it has changed the way
I look at inspiration!
Remeber that toast from yesterday morning honey? Yeah what about it. It tasted like cake what was it. I fried the leftover poundcake into french toast. Hazelnuts and coconuts and whipped cream. I was faboulous Darling where did you get the idea. The gy at Cafe Mongol told me it's what his wife does when there's lefteovers.Editing, and distribution process. Jargon: why are you saying this Honey? Oh nothing I left the sheet music on the table did you move it? Yes it's in the draw by the door. Thanks I found it. Did you know they rebanned the 12-stringed Yatga in Mongolia? No honey, I couldn't give a damn. It's a banned instrument why is one here. I guess I'm some sorta "MUSICAIL OUTLAW" I guess.The Glass Armonica will arrive at the auditrium tommorrow. We might have some troubles do to it's abilty to cause muscle spasms. Yeah Honey! Well I'm off I'll be back after my workout.." Might the threads unravel i will depend on your love for my concern"! Yeah I love you to Honey. Put a block of ice on it Cool it off that way. See you later.
It didn't start til it beganned
every one gathered
at a real gathering f freinds
cheek kissing is cute as it gets
that how we can dismmiss all those
regrets
a recorded song is a recording of sounds
we learn the lyrics before we
sheet music read the sounds
now we challenging to see
who's gonna make the Faching sound.
Who gonna make the faching sound?
Who's goinna make the faching sound?
is it middle sea?
Or middle si?
all the muscials say it's middle C
if it's mid duel see
what then RE WE TO SEE?
LET IT BE
THEY SAY
JUST LET IT BE.
pHAT ONE'S THEY SAY DIPATHONG
THE OTHERS WONS SAY THAT'S
WRONG
i SEE PHAT AND LIKE THE THONG
DIET AND EFFORDS
THAT CAN BE WRONG.
cANTAR SINGS TO CANTRIX IN THE SONG
THE BACKGROUND SANGER'S
SEE IF THEY RIGHT OR WRONG
WHAT THE FAACH?
WHO THE FACH?
THE FACH: THE FACH;THE fACH!
Lyrics By Lin Lane
Seems like yesterday I watched your fingers
play the piano, and heard your music unfold.
In memories, the romantic vision of us lingers,
though love's symphony dulled like tarnished gold.
When we were together, you wrote for me,
songs you scored day and night to compose
of the passion between an oak and willow tree,
Lyrics sweet as the fragrant scent of a rose.
Chorus:
But your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Tender notes on sheet music, ripped and torn.
No longer sung for they bring pain and grief,
stabbing me like a rose's sharpest thorn.
From loss of yesterday's passion there's no relief.
Can time erase the memories I fear won't fade?
Traces of us and what use to be linger in me.
I sway as if slayed by a dagger, and I'm afraid
that from the ghost of you, I'll never be free.
Chorus:
Your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Seems like yesterday I watched your fingers
play the piano, and heard your music unfold.
In memories, the romantic vision of us lingers,
though love's symphony dulled like tarnished gold.
When we were together, you wrote for me,
songs you scored day and night to compose
of the passion between an oak and willow tree,
Lyrics sweet as the fragrant scent of a rose.
Chorus:
But your love wilted like a flower
whose petals lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
Tender notes on sheet music, ripped and torn.
No longer sung for they bring pain and grief,
stabbing me like a rose's sharpest thorn.
From loss of yesterday's passion there's no relief.
Can time erase the memories I fear won't fade?
Traces of us and what use to be linger in me.
I sway as if slayed by a dagger, and I'm afraid
that from the ghost of you, I'll never be free.
Chorus:
Your love wilted like a flower
whose leaves lie withered on the keys.
My heart is wounded and I've no power
to make the miserable ache inside of it ease.
In my youth I dreamt of playing the piano
filling the nights with romance and melodies
orchestrating sound and beauty
Reading and interpreting sheet music while
compressing innermost feelings into sequences of notes
translated in the language best understood by the heart
Swirling to the beat of rhythmic grace
rich with aphrodisiac chemistry
intoxicating mesmerizing beguiling
I’ve dreamt so long of pleasuring the night
to charm the moon and stars above
with my hypnotic serenades and symphonies
AP: 1st place 2025
Written By:
A. Pseudonym
The Motif was decided to
precede each new verse
The words were written
to inspire a sound
a big bold beautiful
sound
happy enough to smile
melancholy from the frustration
of lacking inspiration
having been blessed with those
who share the interest of completion
and a strong spirt
those music lovers
are willing to collaborate and compose
to complete that full rainbow of
emotion that put's signatures
on something which
pride allows those
to understand.words that inspire music
the joy of collaborative efforts
the sadness of not being able to full afford
the full Orchestra
the freedom to create
the human experience( in celebration of)
and the natural way it feels to be around lovers
of Music in a creative sense!
Characterized by Professionalism
and Collaborative Effects.
Strong Bold Big Sound Music Company
Performances By Us Inc.
Tux-Gowns
rags and Sheet' music
I saw him put sand on the epoxy rosined floor
to create a sound when he Tap Danced.
It was his way of helping up
create a sound a melody and beat.
It worked we did several Compositions from
this feat.
You entered my silence like a violin bow dragged with blood through shattered stained glass
I sewed your laughter under my eyelids and lungs, and the light transformed into myriads of fragrant wounds
I coughed wild moon petals for weeks, my mouth full of the echo of your ever-burning footsteps
There is no cure for you, you are the high fever that shapes bones into transparent crystal bells
You are the imperial chandelier fallen right in the middle of the sonata, when the air still trembles with flame and glass
And I lean daily among the shards, gathering your syllables like phosphorescent fish above my heart
I taste them with fear, checking if they still smell of sound, if they still shake the rooftops of my orbit
Every morning I bandage my lungs with sheet music, hoping that silence will flow from me
But the silence breaks anew and your echo returns like a kite torn by a storm
So I clutch your broken glass in my fists, to make it sound like the violin again
a practiced smile on her face
a mother’s oenomel breath puffs wind under gossamer wings
reminiscent of the translucent wings of green lacewings—
mistaken for a pest, but beneficial—
to strike out and explore a thorny world
resisting the siren call of spring’s scent
turning their heads with songs of love
emerging personalities
unravel the cocoon spun in love
as naiveté fragmentises into bluster
a mother unobtrusively dries tears
desiring a moral code of empathy towards all
the sweet fragrance of pride
a tantalising selection between
intrinsic values and
natural curiosity—
concomitant heartbeat tempos to dog-eared sheet music of ambition
culminating in Life’s crescendo
natural selection, be damned
as recalcitrant offspring echoes eons of mitochondrial resilience
Windswept
Over sheet music, harmonious movement of sand.
Droplets of rain dance - time swooning on sea and on land.
Cupid’s arrows climb, descend strings of the violin.
Heartthrobs, side by side, in best dress, on seasonal spin.
Fingers up and down long necks, in obeisance of song,
as bow ties glide along knightly, mounting music, strong.
Ultra concentration as the conductor gyrates,
creates, weights, debates, elongates, plaits and translates.
Unity in mass, jealousy laid aside, except
for the audience who longs to climb inside, windswept.
Ebb and flow of tears, patiently are kept and foreswear
allegiance to current marriage with hasty prayer.
Silver fox-french horns, don’t withhold their breaths, breasts pounding.
With lilt, rapturous, they’d give up their lives, resounding.
White pages, pristine ties, good looking manners of tides.
Hourglass climax expires. Silence shatters. Faith abides.
Your love was of a taking not a
giving kind that swallowed shells
and spat them back onto the sand,
footprints lost to the surf.
It was a dance to which you
changed the footing. An orchestra
with sheet music blank, giving
me the second chair.
In the night, passions once breathy
and ragged became a paper bag.
Browned. Aged. Crinkled and
crackled and wrinkled by fist.
Your love was of a stealing not a
saving kind - yet, preserved in
amber somehow. Trapped in
past without future.
Discrimination
by Michael R. Burch
The meter I had sought to find, perplexed,
was ripped from books of "verse" that read like prose.
I found it in sheet music, in long rows
of hologramic CDs, in sad wrecks
of long-forgotten volumes undisturbed
half-centuries by archivists, unscanned.
I read their fading numbers, frowned, perturbed—
why should such tattered artistry be banned?
I heard the sleigh bells’ jingles, vampish ads,
the supermodels’ babble, Seuss’s books
extolled in major movies, blurbs for abs ...
A few poor thinnish journals crammed in nooks
are all I’ve found this late to sell to those
who’d classify free verse "expensive prose."
Originally published by The Chariton Review
The Musician and the Poet-
See the playing of the musician
I think he's angry at the admission
He finds it hard to see the concert
Overshadowed by the kind turret
She is but a clever poet poetess
Admired as she sits upon an acquisition
Her lab top she writes verses like tapping a tambourine
typing out sounds runs of ole clementine
She's not alone she brings a drum
A pet dog a flamingo, that quite a forum
The flamingo likes to chase keys on piano
especially one that's with Diana
The musician shudders at the delightful pencil
Sheet music leaves but it wants the bensel
Poetess Diana needs music theory lessons
4/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Oh how I fall in love
In love with the melodies
In love with the notes
In love with the songs
With your brunette braid
Hanging over your back
Your talented fingers
As they move over the flute
As you blow your Winter melodie
I feel the goosebumps rushing over me
With the perfection created in your sounds
I feel the peace within me
The notes flowing through the air
Your eyes focused on the Larggetto sheet
The rhythms of your body
As you turn over to your Allegro sheet music
The elegance of your body's posture
As your motion changes
According to your notes
Perfection from breath to breath
Love and passion
Overflowing from the instrument
As the notes on the pages magically
Become alive through your flute
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