May 18, 2017
Poetic pitch bends the minds harmonics.
Love notes coaxed on fine papyrus.
Passions gifts plucked and played.
A repertoire grows by the day.
“One must practice to reach perfection.
You either work hard or lose direction”
A pen stroke becomes a flowing instrumentation.
Ideas become a lyrical composition.
A story can become a chord well strummed.
The writer plucks away at a heart’s strings strung.
“Let your voice sing out loud.
Follow your heart, see what’s found”.
My heart beats like a drum.
Match the beat with my time and tone.
It’s how I write a solo into a poem.
To these melodic passages I have sewn.
“For hearing what’s in the heart.
Sounds like music from finish to start”.
As words fall into place in the chorus.
It’s harmony rung out within the poem.
Like messages found in words well versed.
Textures formed from the lyrics.
“That language has a thousand meanings.
But only music has a thousand feelings”.