The Sound of Change

Penny spins like a ballerina,
rhythmically, beautifully,
dangerously
as she slows… then speeds up,
getting lower and lower
to the ground,
flapping louder
and LOUDER
until she finally
falls
flat
in silence.

Heads or tails?
Coins flipping in mid-air,
sometimes elegantly,
sometimes clumsily,
falling to the ground
with a THUD.
50% chance.

The porcelain pig
shakes upside down,
rhythmically,
like a mother giving birth
to copper and silver coins.
Heads and tails pop out.
Pennies, nickels, dimes
fighting and squeezing
to get through the slot
in front of the smiling eyes
of a little boy.

Coins raining down
on the wet floor,
sparkling in the sunlight,
falling with gravity,
ting, ting, ting, ting, ting,
musically distracting,
musically awakening,
music to your ears.

Whether you have bills or not,
everyone can appreciate change.

A Source of Inspiration

I never envisioned that my poetry would inspire someone else to create a piece of art, so I was surprised when a talented friend of mine (Patrick Lydon) decided to write some music based on a poem I had written.  Both the poem and the music were created in 2009.

The two musical creations:

Rainy Rainbow Day (mp3)

Lost and Insecure (mp3)

 

The original poem:

One-Hour Drive

It’s relaxing to drive
under the sprinkles,
listening to the radio
as you watch the rainbow
come out of the golden-vanilla sky
that’s semi-polluted
with chemicals
and you think to yourself,
“what a wonderful life.”

A road full of strangers
with one common goal,
the desire, the need, the want
to go some place,
to belong somewhere.

As they move forward,
spurts of water
splash your window,
blocking your vision,
leaving you behind.

The sky becomes grayer.
Life becomes bluer
as you stare at the massive freeways
looming above your head,
realizing how beautiful,
strong and solid they are,
how small and fragile you are,
sitting in your stylish little car.
And The Fray comes on,
“You found me, you found me …
lost and insecure.”

I Heard Him Making Love to His Guitar

I heard this song on the radio the other day in the car while driving to work, zoning out as usual.  The instrumental sounds somehow mesmerized me and I had to write a poem about it.

I heard him making love
to his guitar,
stroking the strings
gently,
rhythmically,
mesmerizing me
musically.

Whisperings words of love
through my ears,
his buttery voice
melted my heart,
touched my soul.

He was making love
in front of you and me
so beautifully,
so magically,
so lonely.

Stroking the strings
gently,
rhythmically,
missing her,
missing him,
forever dreaming
everlong…

He was making love
to his guitar,
stroking the strings
gently,
rhythmically,
his buttery voice
fills my ears,
soothing it.

I breathe
to his breath,
I dream
to his dream,
I feel, I see
his fingers
stroking
the strings
of his guitar.

He was making love
to you and me
musically.

And this was the song Everlong (the acoustic version)” by Foo Fighters.

Frozen in Time, The Beat Goes On

This was a fun poem I wrote based on the theme of music.  It’s one of my favorite pieces because I just love the musical rhythm and the fact that I was pretending to be a man.

Frozen in Time, The Beat Goes On

Sparkling glitter and gold,
swaying side to side,
she captures my eyes
keeping me hypnotized.
Longing for her touch,
wanting to know her name,
my heart beats faster
as I gasp for breath.
The beat goes on.

Music filling my ears,
her body filling my mind,
I dance and dance
swinging and shaking
trying to catch her eye,
waiting … longing …
hesitating …

holding my breath,
she looks my way
and I am lost.
lost in my mind,
frozen in time,
caught in her eyes
hypnotized.
The beat goes on.

Working her way
through the crowd,
sliding and gliding
to be by my side.
She’s grasping my hand,
I’m gasping for air,
but without a care,
she dances,
seducing me with her hips.
The beat goes on.

How can I ever forget
the girl who captured my heart?
The girl like an angel,
but with mischief in her eyes.

My little witch
who kept my heart beating
as our bodies swayed,
lips met, minds collide.

On that special night,
our souls touched
and I lost my sight,
blinded by love.
The beat goes on.

Disco Psychedelic Dance

Writing Challenge

Now it’s your turn

  • Write a poem based on the theme of music and post it in the comments below.

Not Even the Trees

Steel-toed boots, high-heeled shoes,
K*Swiss, Nike, Doc Martins –

Soles on wet pavement
taking step after step,
long-legged strides,
some in jeans, some in skirts.

Soles on reflected orange lights,
shimmering green, flickering yellow.
What does it mean?
The meaning is lost.

Owners of soles
on the same path.
North, South, East, West,
they converge and diverge,
but it’s still the same path.

Through raindrops on wet pavement,
passed storefronts and passing cars,
longing for merchandise,
longing for the past.

Heads bowed down
staring at puddles
of memory,
ripples
of emotion.

The soles walk on,
seeing but not seen,
seen but not seeing,
in the dark, dark night.

The wind whispers
to the trees
and the trees
whisper back,
pondering, contemplating
the meaning
and the meaning
is lost.

trees

Writing Challenge:

Now it’s your turn –

  • This poem was inspired by the song Not Even the Trees  by Hootie & the Blowfish
  • Write a poem based on a song that speaks to you.
  • Enter your poem as a comment below.