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Posts Tagged ‘gravity’

No string quartet.

No conductor to signal the baton.

No orchestra to anticipate my usual swoon

of randomly plucked staccato

alternating octaves

like a mad man in Vienna.

 

Alone in the stage,

I would linger

unvigorous in vibrato,

punctuating this sadness

in glissando. A solo part- how I wish

to serenade the muse. Longing

to tell her story in music-

under the sweet  delicate pitch

sorrow of Cremona.

 

The episodes, I have written on

mellow notes, resonant harmony-

bowing cello. Passionately

romancing my fingers to the smoothness

of her nape, the ebony board. While

sitting on a chair, I am a young lover

in blue, embracing memories.

 

My gentle touch travels

her body,  her maple waist

to her bridge, her sensual curves.

Choreographed my movements

spiked to her gravity. My slow breath

became whispers reverberating,

counter-pointing her lucid melody.          

 

I chose to be soft rather than loud,

my cello swooning treble of a tenor-

overwhelmed by a mezzo-soprano.

Quenching beneath this segmented,

disjointed and abruptly shifted

monotony of a lifetime

asking for her forgiveness. 

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Mystery unravels tonight,

strange a landscape-

since you left. The room is

a parched valley of sheets

as I lay naked, bathe

in the lunar light.

 

Sans the gravity

of your satellite. It orbits

without the ocean’s rage

of high tides luminating

passion, as I grope

within the walled corners

of the stark midnight.

 

Sadness falls

like rockets ebbing

the bed. Its trajectory

creating pockmarks

and craters

of a dormant volcano.

I tip-toed.

 

To our dreams-

pinnacled fortresses pierced

with shrapnels of regret.

Ripping pillows

until blood-tinged feathers

hover the vacuum,

shatter into belt

of asteroids and clods

of moondust.

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It’s dress rehearsal tonight. You came

early as usual finding me,

perched at the proscenium

like a gallant cavallier.

Looking at you

with the warmth

of a thousand suns.

 

The stage is empty.

The krieg lights are dead.

The orchestra has no music.

The amphitheatre is a crowd

of empty chairs

waiting to be filled.

To watch our lonely hearts

find some happy endings.

 

Star-crossed lovers as we are

waltzing innuendos.

The faint whispers

our only song,

as I inch closer

feeling your gravity.

Your fragiled demeanor.

 

Ah, your sweet breath

I softly taking in.

These quick glances

slowly melting, weakening

this fortified defences.

Knitting our spirits

embracing shadows

under the moonlight.

This one mystic evening.

 

I am your Romeo.

And you are-

my Juliet. Feel my heart

romancing, silently

rehearsing love.

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