Music

Pen And Page For Verse:

Pen And Page For Verse
I call to thee
Strike Me,
With coarse words,
And revive imagination,
Once more.

Paint your songs galour,
That of Vivaldi's Four Seasons,
And nothing short.

Bring me a crescendo of emotion,
Only to fall with a spiral;
Landing softly to frosted white cotton snow,
Embracing its cold, sharp, properties.

Pen and page for verse,
I call to thee,
Belt out your song,
Never learned;
For I have fresh ears,
So sing freely.

The strings of you,
Reach quietly,
Your words no longer speak.

You are but the dreams that makeup my sleep.
The sounds of lovers rejoicing in music to keep.
The soul of what it means,
To be.

No Matter The Song:

I could live a thousand years,
In the overtones of a piano,
And forever return home;
Guitar chords laying the way.

The sounds shall play on,
And on,
And on,
No Matter The Song.

A Pitiful Me:

In search of the songstress,
I ask,
"Who will change my ways?"
I hear few who will,
But welcome them,
To a collection.

Please,
I say,
"Bid my troubles away."
I silently beg you,
Stay.

I'm afraid I can't move alone,
For without you,
The seams holding my heart,
Slowly split.

Look Out:

Our love,
Nothing but the blues,
Guitar in hand,
Soul,
Filling rooms,
Hoot,
Holler,
Shout,
But remember just one thing,
Look Out.

Tune, For Soul:

Your grand words,
Of wisdom and tales ancient,
Brush ecstasy against my naive,
Inexperienced,
Soul.
Your words call for adventure.

As the tunes float,
In spaces between my heart and lungs,
I'm brought to life's pursed lips,
And encouraged,
"Venture".

Frances Q. Poem(One Of Many):

Love for your voice,
So I must love you?
I do,
Simply.

You bring joy,
Glee,
Romance.

Your melody's kiss me,
Calling for truth and beauty.
I'm loving you,
Without having to need thee.

Another Poem For Frances:

Shamelessly, I wish,
To dream at night,
Of your Beauty.

All day,
You tease;
An earworm,
Singing softly,
"I
Love
You".

I believe you do,
But haven't a clue,
As to how to show you.

What you have done for me,
I will confess with grace,
Behind the wall of sleep.

Truth, In Ear-Shot:

The pulse in the groove,
Felt instantaneously.
The soles of my feet,
Are that of the musicians playing.

Hear their souls,
Feel a truth hanging,
In plain sight.

Stinging Memory:

Seated in front of speakers,
They speak,
I listen.
A punk rock band eager,
To share it's mission.

Songs of adversity,
Devotion.
Filling wall to wall of the record store.
There I stayed,
Seated,
Vanquished by emotion.

A songstress,
Bringing tears fourth,
Harmonizing lyrics:
"Makin a list,
Of people to kiss,
The list is,
A million YOUS long".

With this song,
I no longer breath,
With this song,
I'm left but only with,
Stinging Memory.

QMS:

Only now do I see,
What you see,
Hear your being,
Living in your streets.

You've placed me in your shoes,
Playing hypnotic blues,
And knowing the structures,
Of your cryptic,
Enchanted,
Tunes.

The tone of your character,
Is that of a wizard;
Casting spells,
Into a world,
I only blindly knew.

I'm falling gracefully in love,
With the truths,
You are completely made of.

Kingdom Of The Gente Muse:

Return to me,
O, sweet soulful sounds.
I will rejoice,
Forever in your name.

For you are the best of drugs;
A beautiful trip that rests,
At my will,
Always ready for play.

You are what grants me,
The feeling of freedom,
The key,
To heavens kingdom.

Broken Keys:

Breaking key,
Is the name,
Of blues and jazz.

That,
And an evoking swing.

The woman buzzing in my brain,
Brought me to my piano,
Releasing anguish,
Breaking key.

Sound From My Eyes:

Alone at home,
With a stack of records;
Brahms to Santana,
I am forever,
Accompanied,
By the bedside.

The music is my truest friend,
Perhaps there are others,
That say,
Share my sentiment;
However, none will listen,
In same fashion as I,
That is why,
The records feel as close and personal as my very on sight.