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Kim Yu May 2015
In a dream I inevitably heard her voice
Singing a melody that pierced through the noise
Gentle notes from her golden harp were of a morning breeze
On the highest cloud singing without cease,
Her melody got lower as I moved closer
Her positive energy was just an explicit composure
Her presence gave out an eternal bliss
Nearly fell as she blew off a kiss
She slowly moved her hand on my palm
In a micro-second my broken soul was at calm
I rose like a flower on the first of spring,
She vanished in the clouds and left behind a feather of her wing
But her sweet melody continued ringing, eternally
As I greeted the morning breeze, happily...
Cristian May 2015
I must remind myself
that the universe is beautiful
scary, but so beautiful
I do not have enough time
to comprehend it
and neither do you
so just lay here with me
and stop questioning
why you what you feel

just lay here with me...
and embrace your existence
Leigh May 2015
He took a heart and he plucked its
Strings recklessly to compose a second quartet -
Of love! Of passion! Of chaos! -
With sounds dredged from a hollow
Box inhabited by his masterpiece - Kamila.
Not the young, flattered, other man's living wife,
But the manifestation of his desire to depict
Longing;
An artificial, delicately moulded, fervent
Wanting.

One of the great classical passions -
Up there with Dante and Beatrice -
Tarnished by a most deceptive
Embellishment in exchange
For radiance.
His melody - although bracing a lie -
Sings to the fizzle in your chest and
The tingle in your fingertips --
A lullaby to the desperation he required
To convince us it was at all possible.

"And in your withered heart you know it's crap."
.

I was driven to write this after reading the short play 'Performances' by Brian Friel. His take on the true sentiment behind Leoš Janáček's intimate letters to Kamila, which inspired and bolster his second String Quartet, is thought-provoking. Friel's idea that the letters were written to a perfect image of Kamila as opposed to the imperfect person in order to inspire the work he produced struck a chord with me. Pun whole heartedly intended.

.
Black Roses May 2015
You were my symphony, My melody
But you left me,
I'm in agony
What a Tragedy
Miranda May 2015
Take my hand.
Close your eyes.
Breathe me in.
Just free your mind.

It’s only us.
Time does not exist.
There’s no need to rush.
Just enjoy this bliss.

Trace my lips,
As you hear me speak.
Can you hear the thumping,
Of my racing heartbeat?

Let your hand,
Graze my cheek.
As I listen intently,
To the words you speak.

Do you feel the air,
Brush by your skin?
Do I stir up something
Deep within?

Relax your muscles.
You’re safe with me.
Forget the world.
As we make our own melody.
How does music posit itself,
Beautiful, sublime?

What of the listener, attentive,
An aesthetic individual?

How does pulse, pitch and timbre affect us?
What colors a melody?
Why should such arrangements please us?
Breonna Noel Apr 2015
Her heart beats ferociously
pounding rhythmically
it drums the melody
like an ancient rite
deep and fluid
vibrant and universal
the
  song
    is
      of
        love.
music can be powerful and strong
music can be great
music has been around so long,
music is my fate…
one day i will be a legend
with a taste for melodious sound,
people will shiver at the mention
of william the great and profound
music is a great way to achieve glory, but i will never let it cloud my judgment, or make me a different person
the only thing that binds me
to the earth until i die
is the songs i love, that sound is enough,
to comfort me when i cry
the only thing that keeps me
from a world of death and despair
is the soul of a guitar rocking
and the slow, steady tempo of an old rocking chair
music is very important in my eyes, and will be even when i become very old
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