(0.00 / 0 votes) “
A Melody 1956 (Georgia)
by A. Woodley
My heart once sang a happy song, the melody so sublimely sweet. But the lyric was a rhapsody. A rhapsody so bold and wise beckoning for me to harmonize.I was too timid to sing along, my loyalty too weak to bind a tie so strong.
So I ran ever roaming from my sweet melody, drowning the lyrics in the weakness of me. I floated with clouds and rambled with eagles. I spoke with doves while nestling with daisies. At last the rhapsody crescendo, and I hear a frightful note of discord in my life.
Melody sweet where are you? Humbug dreams are not in sync with heart and what heart thinks. The journey to find melody began on a day with the sound of a child giggling at play. That contagious smile all the while made onlookers partake and cheeks to ache. The chords of glee briefly captured peace, hearing melodic tunes from the past. Like the bells that chime from time to time to awaken a soul from crime.
Why now be it true that an old melody makes blue, recalling melody's climb up charts to number one? How sweet to reminisce the sound now named clown by an annoyed soul of a mime.
Where did heart go wrong, the death of tone? Hearts dream was to conduct a harmonious life. Rewind that glorious vision of a gift of love for no reason. But now all is a loss cause melody is lost and hardness of heart is the cause.
How heart burned just singing along with that glowing heavenly choir. The heart beheld a concerto of praise in an arena of glory and splendor. Now heart yearns and aches for heaven sake for that magnificent scene and those met.
To orchestrate this opera around a loss melody, the pen must be swift to score notes in 3D. The audience must be able to hear sharp notes, high notes, feel low notes, flat notes, and see notes that shatter glass.
The reflection of sad rags filled up like straw bags may conjure a blue note in real time. The pen is now fearful to accompany the hearer on a journey beyond enemy lines. At this place in time travel, melody is still sound, yet muffled and chords entwined.
Stay aware and alert double time is essential for melody to be found alive. The mission in front is a harmony of sort, the reuniting of melody and heart. Now if regrets of the past replace this duet and the sublime become just a rhyme, only fizzy rhythms red solos and worms will ease the loss and the yearn.
Evil zombies have no care for melody so sweet and sublime. Be aware of the mystery that shrouds this journey with perilous adventure and surprise. Just hearing the cry of a backwards charge, it cause sharp notes to grip at the mind.
When did first note flee from melody sweet, once pure, once mellow, and once lively? Hope is finding a key among many lost in the dark that can unlock a tuneless heart. Where was the tuning fork in the road when craven sharp music over flat? Instead, heart almost dead Doctor Goodman said, with a tap, tap, tap, on hearts brass.
Breath, breath, breath with every tap upon hearts chest, there is still a faint whisper of hope to warm or to polish. The daily practice of life teaches discord when encountering the band, the symphony again, and an ensemble of players to sustain. The bravado in succession ordering tunes so many sounds melody drowned, among a composition of complexity left bound.
Does love have anything to do with melody at all, of course it does. The pain of life rhythm is a transitional course. Pain makes a note of hearts desire for a concert where melody is the headliner, yet pain says no. Tap, tap, tap, breath, live, live, live, can the heart feel again the glee that capture peace?
Can the heart trust again in the wand of the majestic and eminent one? Where be the maestro that orchestrate hearts in hand and clefs to perfection? Can it be possible to revive duets in sync with hearts beat? Can loves temporal relationships end so many tragic demise?
Can it be possible to receive as a child again the simplicity of ascending scales, do, re, mi? Tragedy uses various sounds in the creation of a sonata, all hard, all loud, all complex, and all drown.Tragedy totes a bag of tortuous instruments, in an endeavor to silence the emotions that greet the sweetest of melody.
Tragedy descends on a sharp edge sliding from first blood to first shrill note. Abuse is a one, and a two, and a three, play, repeat and loop. There is a continuous crashing of two cymbals without melody piercing the ear and soul. A percussion solo clash, clash, clash, striking, shaking, and off cue. What was the name of that second tragedy, "Cain and Abel", and so on?
Melody now whispers sweetly like a for one ears only secret. Sweet beats soothe the soul and perform a brief healing treatment. How enchanting the sound of sweet melody. No instrument created can out play the notes that pierce the soul like thee. Madness did flee, melody come back and see the loyalty found now strumming notes from memory.
Loss ascends swift with swirling air and disappears in the funnel of a tornado, tuba. Suddenly heart picks up a woodwind blowing highs and lows. Phantom limbs of memory stems, leaves heart ajar. The heart now broken and tuneless skip beats from bar to bar.
Heart is now strumming the strings left behind, too many chords missing to reach sublime. Where's the band now, no hand in hand circling intervention? Jester's always available to play numerous sounds around town, yet no lullaby to sleep? Heart had no defense against tubas melody all low and raspy.
Heart chose to anchor down and mute all sound. Watch each step past perfect gets murky. For melody true, one must forge through to find where heart lost allure. Peep over the right shoulder hear rumors cutting all over, take care beware hear the buzz. Look over there another oak was just sawed down to the ground, timber!
Walking backwards is ill advised, retrospection can be a vast cavern. Excavation is for melody's sake to save heart shivering cold and drowning. Assume a holding pattern while advancing toward the psalms of relationships. Tread lightly observe quietly and hear a symphony of creatures playing their own instruments.
Melody once conducted the instruments, tempo, motion, faster, faster, faster, allegro. The heart joins in for a trio beating like a drum, pounding, pounding, pounding, vibration, after vibration, after vibration, holding a steady rhythm, while penetrating the tympanic membrane. 'Poco a poco accelerando al fine', the music of love was birth.
The beautiful composition explodes like bombs of compressed emotion, a flowing outburst of stars and streaming fireworks. Oh cymbals, now the beauty of a continuous loud tune accompany fireworks as they explode high up to the moon, brilliant colored lights, rise sparkle, rise sparkle, rise sparkle, rise crash, an uncontrollable exhilaration, stars, joy, largo.
Presto, an astonished hearts eventual comic relief is suspect when remembering all those regrettable love songs. Is melody a song or just a poem? No, melody is the music of life, a sweet, loyal companion. Oh for that sweet sublime that plucks the madness from hearts past. This melodrama is becoming a cliffhanger.
Step meticulously while rounding the next bend at this beat, beat, beat, of this excursion. Melody's tone was not crystal clear while here but near. As pain crescendo from a place of obscurity, pain broadcast in surround sound hammering out each regret a one, and a two, and a three, a relentless dirge of alarm. Bongos soon engage playing multivarious beats of future, present, and past. Free jazz is now the unsound sound of life's grandiosity.
Quiet those tunes looping in the head and magnify that melody that penetrates instead. Quiet that inner band of dread and fright causing heart to flutter and ache for rhyme and reasons sake. Melody was so sublime now left with notes of a random sound. Rescue melody from a flat cell of brass that mirrors the tunes of melody's past. Hope now begins at the timing where all hope was lost despite the cause.
The chords are to be remembered, but no longer to be repeated. Create now in heart the freshest of start. Sing a simple song that begins acapella. The melody must be sublimely sweet with lyrics as peaceful as a lullaby to sleep. Heal as knees kneel and delete all past reels, no more roaming only rest and peace from the perilous past journey.
About this poem
Retrospection that leads to enlightenment.
Discuss this A Melody poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)