This is the last post in the “Murmure dans le vent” series. Here, I shall expose the fourth & final movement of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings in C Major. The order in the series is as follows: “Murmure dans le vent”, “Dance for me”, and “Faithfully Unfaithful”
Tag: creative writing
Over the world
Precariously I walk
Chills down my spine
In this chapter -unsure-
Will it open before the close?
Dubiously the road quickens
Running as I try to feel
the labyrinth inside my chest
unravels slowly
Foreseeable this may be
this feeling inside me
I can see the doors
Will you stay as I unclose?
Fluctuating as conditions may persist
Undoubting I continue to stay
The opening unravels you
as the worlds most precious gift
You smile upon me
Pulse quickens
Over the world is my stop.
Compose
I write
with tears
with pain
with sorrow
forlornly
I record
ecstatically
melodramatically
lovingly
sentimentally
exuberantly
inamorato
your skin
I compile
your mouth
your pearls,
and diamonds
-as they fall-
broaching them softly….
I pencil
the future
the past
the sighs
your sight
our love
your lips
my embrace
your semblance
I compose
in you
in me
in us
-musicalpoetry 2013
Swallowed in the sea
A tumultuous sea. This can be a definition for life. It starts abruptly, like a sudden typhoon. It can suddenly soften as a warm towel against your skin. Life can sometimes be as intimate like a chaste kiss or as hard as fifty kilos on your back. Life, as it seems, is a roller coaster. We must brave the waters, and mind the hatches. In life we must try to “pass the storm”, and try not to drown. But, what happens in that moment when we start to “drown”? Everything and anything turns overwhelming. “This is where you show your true strength” people usually say to each other. “You’ll be stronger after this passes.” they tell you as advice. How do they know if they may not be living (or have lived) the situation, or a similar version of it.
So what can we do? Do we get swallowed by the sea? Do we “brave the storm”? Do we “the storm pass”? Because the reality of most situations is that during the situation, we can’t do anything. We can do something “after” the storm. I believe it’s “after the storm” and the actions that we take during that time is what shows who we are. It’s ok to do nothing. It is acceptable to cry. It is human to do nothing. At least, for a while. But, after the slump, we must take back what is ours. We must yell at the storm, at life itself, scream to the heavens that we can overcome whatever it is that we face. Show life that we can get stronger.
“If you allow yourself, you can become stronger in the very places you were broken” – Jane Fonda
The reality of life is that we are always going to get hurt. We are always going to get broken. The majority of this comes from the people we trust, care, and love the most. What can we do? The only thing I can tell you is what I read a couple of days ago:
One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel- Madame de Pompadour
And if that angel is the one we humans call “soulmate”, well we can weather any storm. Why? Because they make you stronger than ever before.
If Music is the exaltation of the mind…
“Music is the exaltation of the mind derived from things eternal, bursting forth in sound.” Thomas Aquinas
Now, if Thomas Aquinas, a 13th century Italian priest, said this 8 centuries ago… what can we say about Literature? Most of the quotes you will find about Literature is on how language is used to create worlds, galaxies embedded in a piece of paper. I’ve read many quotes on Literature, but they never express Literature as “one of the highest forms of creativity that can withstand time and space. Literature, just like music, is an extension of the author’s very soul. A piece of a life lived. The victory in a defeat. The death of a life that never had the chance to live. Literature is a form of art which can exude, exchange or digress emotions with the reader and writer. Literature is an exaltation of the soul, creating itself from the most vulnerable part of it’s creator; embellished in a piece of paper so that it can be shared with humanity.”
-musical poetry
Diamonds
Another day has come and gone away
Look over my phone to check if you’re awake
And here I lie asleep thinking: Will I see you again?
I pray to that God that you’ll still here to stay
Your voice haunts me time and time again
These memories just crash and here I pray
Remember those promises I made not long ago?
I’ll keep them and show you I’m something so much more…
I’m something more… I won’t go…
Your diamonds are falling
Oh, why? Can’t you see?
Can’t you see? You’re falling away from me…
I’m standing here outside your home
Waiting for you look outside
Remember when it rained, we talked all night?
That time our diamonds touched the sky?
Oh, please… please don’t let me be
Even if the winds change, beside you I will stay
To catch the diamonds you throw at me
To take us home where we should hide away
To hold you close until the dawn awaits
Your diamonds are falling
Oh, why? Can’t you see?
Can’t you see? That you mean the world to me…
you mean the world to me…
Please, stop from falling
Just let me catch you
This will go away
We’ll be free someday
Our plane ticket home
it’s just within our reach
just hold my hand
and count to three…
Diamonds stop falling
I’ll grab them, you’ll see
One day you’ll stop falling
You’ll stop falling for me…
Our Silent Night
Crystal clear sky
Moon shining high
From a window, I can see
everything we have,
everything we can be…
In a distant land, they’ve told me
A mother holds her treasure
uncomfortable from the cold
warmed by her faithful companion
wishing to give something more…
…A wanderer stops, searching for heat
Boys and girls wait for their favorite day.
People rejoice, laugh and play
A humble tree, decorated, and sparkling shows
“The most wonderful time of the year”
Mistletoe, wreathes, and cookies
decorate our home, while our Rudolph
lays beside his gingerbread abode.
In the twilight I know
-just as the snow slows-
everything we’ve been,
everything we’ve known
all the memories unfold
Our first hello,
Our first goodbye,
Our first kiss,
Our lullaby
And here we are,
Together, at last
Together as one
In our first Silent Night…
Only
Only…
Only the darkness knows my plight
Only the darkness knows my sorrow and
the times I’ve cried
Only the night knows
my cuts
my bruises
my scars
the dark holes in my eyes
my paling skin
Only the darkness knows my solitude
Only the darkness understands that won’t see the light…
Only my body knows the cold…
of how much I want your warmth around me
Only the dusk knows my sleepless nights
…the affliction in my heart
….the arch in my back
….the anguish in my soul
Only the darkness can grasp my research
… the endless nights of my pupils burning
… the heavy weight I carry while I walk
The twilight scarcely perceives what my mind’s thinking
….the plots planted
…hope dwindling
… plans expiring
A blaze blinds my soul
… minutes before it consumes me…
… a whisper yearns
a kindle emerges from…
…. the darkness
Just smile
Softly smiling, hiding the crack
he said: “Don’t worry. I’m ok.”
They all stand, clap and cheer
Smiling broadly, he turns around
Standing ovation.
He’s not here.
-Musical Poetry
“This sentence has five…
“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”
Gary Provost
The art of musical poetry 