The Music of Sorrow

Hoping I've got a little muse left in me. Here's a rough draft of a little poem-like piece. I'm currently using the title "The Music of Sorrow"; however, I'm open to suggestions. Every time I read over it I think it's beautiful, but so p

The melody undulates in waves so peaceful.

It rocks back and forth, the harmony whispers.

A touch so beautiful it brings tears, and soft lips begin

Seeping secrets, giving way to chills.

My blood runs faster. My breath catches.

The chorus swells and pulsates, filling me.

Louder and stronger, harmony and melody meld.

Strings pull, brass shrieks, primitive percussion

Beats rhytmically with the winds.

They control my heart, providing a tempo and

With baited breath I wait and listen.

This is it, the zenith. It brings release so even the gods

Must stop to smile.

So long I've waited, hoping it will last and keep me blissful.

No, the end comes faster than I hoped for as it always does.

Though the decrescendo is drawn out, the strings are fading.

The brass is gone. The winds feeble over the soft percussion.

The pulse is light.

Lighter.

The song is over, but I stand waiting for the chance

To hear it play forever.

Author's Note

Sometimes boys are the best muses. For the record, if you're thinking it's about sex it's so much more complex than that. So get your heads out of the gutter and dig deeper.

Reviews

[Larissa G.]

You took me back to my first love. I came see the relations between us and have some idea of where you're going; still it is a little vague. Any way to add something in there for us to catch onto faster? If you hadn't added the description we wouldn't have understood the point and that isn't good.