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Posts Tagged ‘harmony’

Silence is a little thread that binds the pages to a life-

closed book of chapters, passages, remembrances,

acquaintances, wanderlust, transience, oblivion. No one

speaks about the truth anymore. About

 

long hours. Segments, anecdotes, soliloquies,

echoes, nuances, ennui, memoirs, silhouettes

of things and places. Sights and sounds.

The mind and senses in harmony. Strange

 

foreign. Beauty hidden in a labyrinth frozen

in time. Never to be opened for a reading

and not for sale. Summer, winter, spring.

Fall.

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Imagine yourself playing the part.

The melody in a slow tempo

touching the white bones in mine.

The blank spaces glide

filling the staves into octaves

where rhythms of silence

are aching to be heard.

 

The approaching train

in locomotion slowly halting

to a rest and the muse

steps out in a sudden hush.

Whose inspiration reminds me

of the autumn breeze

that shifts its weight

among the rustling of leaves.

 

The sounds in the pavement,

and the trickling of the rain

drops of minims, crochets,

semibreves and quavers

into unfamiliar serenade

awakening the restless

in the night’s peaceful embers.

 

I remember the beating pulse,

the sharp pause counterpointing

the pace and the careful movement

of that forgotten harmony

smoothly entering my soul.

 

When all love was just a dream

and tonight I hear applause

thundering under my own skin.

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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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There are three words to learn if you want to be in harmony with almost anyone.  This is sorry-if you have unintentionally hurt or done mistake against someone. Another is thank you -if you have received in gratitude any kind of help from someone else. And the last  word is please-if you need something or simply asking for some favors.

These three words I am not accustomed  to before.  But thanks, I met someone who is a principled man and indirectly taught me to practice these three words to live by each day.  One of them, is by saying thank you. This proves to be a liberating experience for me.

Another friend of mine has told me that it is a real pity for someone who is perenially ungrateful of what he has.  In poverty or in prosperity, we ought to thank the very people who helped us up and in gratitude to whatever circumstances we might be in. 

To be surrounded with ungrateful people is a stress.  These are people who saps out the energy from you, wallowing almost each day for the things they don’t have.  At some point in our lives, we should practice contentment. But I agree that this trait would be very hard for people who doesn’t have peace within themselves.  People who harbor some excess baggages from  unforgotten past, may it be failure, low self-esteem or hidden depressions.

Complaining often lead us to forget for the things that we should be thankful for.  And an unforgiving heart would only lead us much deeper into misery. 

Everyday is a blessing enough.  By that, all is said.

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The tides finally embrace
Its long-time lover
Immaculately veiled
As it marches. White
Kisses soothing
The parched
And the laden.

The joy of the morning
And witnesses throng.
The sky’s tenderness,
spreading its golden feathers
Waving in jubilation.

With wind songs joined
In chorus by the seabirds
Of nature’s pure harmony.
With sun’s soft light
Sealed a promise
Of love’s eternity.
This secret place
of your shores.
 

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