the music in my head

my fingers pluck 

taut guitar strings, i shake 

off the labels people have of me: 

hardness, coarseness, shallow words

         &  let the beat inside me move 

         to roaring sea, wind, ever restless

         crescendo, then the lilt, slower drum

         beat, shoulders and hips sway & slump 

i should be writing about broken

emptiness, solemn grey clouds

messy fallen leaves, dirty city air  

but my hands strike a nerve of a mountain   

          & grips a rope to bring me 

          down on my knees, searching for fire:   

          that core that leans to the sun

          those tides that full moon smoulders 

                      the tilt of my gravity moves  

                      towards you, softer cadence, 

                      garden you spring  - from me, of me, with me

                      everything pours out in my music: 

                      another love song 

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub,

OpenLinkNight  - Thanks for the visit ~

Artist:  Walasse Ting (1986)

The piano

midway during the concert 

the piano waited in pensive mood

ignored in the pocket coat of playmaker

when she came with arrow fingers,

red rose on soundboard  

something snapped, 

jaws of the whale opened

silvery waves rose and crashed

against the salt sprayed mouth,

breaking the emeralds

and ivory keys into shells 

falling to the foamy depths

of the blue sea

echoes of the bullhorns,

trumpets blaring castles of the moors,

thundering the night,

cries of the eagle 

circling the breasts of the moon

then in the dying notes  

melody grew softer 

warm milk,

trickle of sweetness,

breathless sigh

the piano and pianist plunged

downwards, oblivious  

until all was a 

pitter patter of rain,

a dewdrop

   

the man with the baton 

came back 

like a wounded mad crow,

jaws of the whale closed,   

and man walked away 

to silence   

                                                                 abstract art by Ashok

Posted for:   Imaginary Garden for Real Toads and D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight  

Ashok has requested that I write about his art work, music abstract. I drew my post inspiration from  Pablo Neruda's Oda al Piano .   

Thanks for the visits and lovely words.  I appreciate them.

His music

icy wind blows
urban noise, termed as pop music,
from the car radio into the grey freeway
when
out of nowhere
his voice,    
husky pelt from lost valleys, 
croons 
slicing cement pavements into
pools of rain and deep ravines
i fall, into his arms, 
sucking   
slice of lime, salt and tequila 
my belly caving as his words hit the 
gravel peaks of love and tragedy,
my thigh pivoting to his beat, 
i exhale slowly 
the car, greased with his music,
races through the streets   




Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub:   Our music 
picture credit:   here

Though he is already dead, Elvis Presley is the first male artist I became very familiar with, through my mother who played all of his songs after his death.   Thanks to old movie clips and links, I remember him as a young and soulful crooner.                

Another love song

Sing me another love song

Because I have forgotten

Your affection in a letter

The sun has been hiding

Behind snow covered hills

Do you recall spring nights

Your hands cupping my face

With tender persuasion

That’s what I like

Making love with no words

Just the sound of the rain falling

Just the hush of leaves swaying

And as you kiss me

with a gentle dedication, I’ll recall

the words of another love song

Love And Affection 1976

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:  Music with Marian:  Love and Affection by Joan Armatrading 


Picture credit:   here

Gently weeps

the morning dusk embrace me

warm like your hand on my bosom 

i hear your restful sounds on my side

as i gaze out the cloudless grey sky 

not for the first time, i ponder on white sea shell,

and faded beach picture tucked away in small box


remnants of another day, another place 
in time, makes me weep gently

i wonder if you know why i don't play  

the guitar anymore 

Posted for Poetry Jam:   Based on Santana's While my guitar gently weeps 
Shared for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:   OpenLinkNight - Monday


I don't play the guitar; but the sounds are beautiful and made me write a melancholy poem.


picture credit:  here

More than a face

so you  think you know me well
just because you know my name
or maybe you see the color of
hair and skin, shape of my eyes


so you think you know me true
just because you know where i live,
work and eat or maybe you see my
shoes, clothes and music i listen to


but i am more than just a face, 
my lips are bolder than blood red, 
often times my thoughts are dark,  
bluer than my violet eyes; my dreams 
brighter than biggest yellow star; 


for i am more than just one colour,
one label, one adjective to fit 
your bag of expectations; i am
full of contradictions, i admit  




woman, you say




yep, that's me 




Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub - Poetics - Play with color hosted by Victoria.
I chose a beautiful work of an artist, Nielly Francoise. (see link).


Shared with Poets United :   Poetry Pantry


picture credit:   http://www.behance.net/NIELL (here) 

Dance move

come on baby,
i like this move
swing your hips
round and round


slow, fast, slow, fast
i like to dance
tease you with my moves
twisting and turning
turning and twisting
until we got the rhythm


up, down, up, down
hands and feet grooving
swaying to the drum beat
grooving and swaying 
shaking my insides out          

come on baby,
i like this move
swing your hips
round and round


let's twist again ~ 

Posted for D'Verse Poets Pub- Poetics hosted by Joy Ann Jones.  Prompt is repetition - My (weekend) mind took me to this fun dance move from the old days.  

and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads- Prompt is Twist.   Video link - thanks to Laurie.   

FF 55: Sweet repose

My hand gently cups your cheek

My finger draws a smooth line

from your neck

Around the slopes

Dark shades, long strokes

I tossed my pencils and oils aside

My tongue traced all the lines

Inhaling your breath in the canvas

You sighed and closed your eyes

I gaze at your beauty

in sweet repose

Author's Note:   This is my first time to try this - Tell a story in 55 words. Give it a try or just read more, go see G-man.

picture credit:  houseoferotica.tumblr 

Friday Romantic Challenge: Forgiven

He held the world in his hands  

As he crooned the last notes to the sea of nameless faces  

The bright lights swiveled on his slim form

His sweat glistened from his glorious mane

He was the newly crowned prince of the rock world 

Amidst the crowds and adoring fans, he felt powerful 

His mind rocking with the pulse of his raging music

He went into the back room of the stage 

What he saw made his stomach curl and bile rise up

His girlfriend, Diane and band mate entwined limb to limb 

Her face caught in passion’s fury, her luscious lips

Moaning as her lover licked her breasts, his hands

Cupping her legs, bringing her to mindless pleasure

He felt his heart blown into a thousand splinters

The very same lust and hunger that drew him to her

Now disgusted him, and made him remember Dorothea 

Grabbing his most treasured possession, his guitar

He left the concert grounds and drove

Around in circles until  he saw with clarity

His path ……the yellow lines on the road

led straight to a red brick house with a rusty mailbox 

Getting off his gleaming car, he paused to peer at Dorothea's house

Seeing its steadfast points, noting its tranquil lines

His last image of it was slamming the door in anger   

Her, the anchor in his rocky and turbulent musicscape 

What a fool he was to let her slip away!   

He rang the doorbell not knowing what to say

All he knew was that he wanted to grovel at her feet

And beg her to take him back. 

He took a deep breath as the door opened

Dorothea saw his earnest face bathed in the moonlight

It was the boy who gave her roses for her birthday

The awkward teen who tied her prom corsage on her wrists

The young man who composed love songs just for her 

strumming the guitar, and playing with her heartstrings

The rock star who wanted his freedom.

Kneeling down, he took his guitar, the soul of his music  

And placed it at her bare feet, his eyes shut tight

Bracing himself for her sharp words and blows

Instead he felt her gentle hands on his hair weaving like the wind

Her hands drew him close unto her breasts

Like a prodigal lover, he wept in her arms

Forgiven, he held the world in his hands.   

    

Author's Note:   This story is for Romantic Friday Challenge:  Forgiven.   The challenge is to write 300-400 words with the theme or word Forgiven.   Do check out the others participating this week.

The story is based loosely on a rock star's love life.   After catching the woman with his band mate, he went back to his high school sweetheart to “grovel at her feet”.   They got married soon after and until now, are still making beautiful music together.   

All I ask of you

my face is pale
without a shade of colour
like my tooth undergoing an extreme makeover   


my lips are numbed
after sitting for 2 hours 
in the dentist's chair it felt like a long time ever


my shoulders ached
from trying not to blanched
from the drill, paste and injections in my gums


my eyes got blotchy 
from trying not to sniffle 
no not from the nerves poking but 
from watching Titanic on the TV screen above


afterwards, you held my hand
kissed me and said you know just the right drill  
to make me forget that I just had a root canal ~


All I ask of you 
is to hold my hand and kiss my aches away
after a dentist's visit.

Author's Note:  This fun post is for Poetry Jam hosted by Brian Miller.   (I really went to the dentist and watched Titanic in the tv screen).   The challenge is to pick a favorite song and either use a line from the song in your poem or write a poem inspired by that song.  


I don’t actually listen to music when I write; I write in absolute silence.   But going back to the theme this week, my taste in music is varied from instrumental to pop songs.  But one of my all time favorite music piece comes from the Phantom of the Opera- All I ask of you.   I love it then, I still love it now…. It always moves me specially when the male voice sings the words.. that is all I ask of you ~  here is the link :

Thank you for dropping by.   Happy day  ~

Painting love

she wanted to put a little color in their room
paint a tinge of red for drama in the walls
and maybe a bit of yellow for sunshine at the edges
it was after all her favourite colors


he thought it would look better if it was all in blue
with a hint of white and maybe green at one side
he wants to imagine they are making love under the sky 
plus these were his favorite colors

throwing a fit, she became redder than a red tomato  
he turned cold like blue ice and grabbed the brushes away 
they argued until the tins of colors spilled 
smeared with paint, they stroked each other to madness    

well it turned out that all of the colors look lovely
when it was all mixed up in the bed, staining the sheets
glowing, glistening, bold, vibrant, seductive, passionate
nothing in black and white nor gray,   that's them ~     



Author's Note:   I was inspired by this picture from RW of Ridingwild.tumblr.   

The music we play

Grip me firmly
Strike the chords of my desire
Pluck my  breasts with your fingers
Pound my keys with your hands
Gently, now harder and faster






As you slam the bow against my violin
I forgot the lyrics of the ensemble piece
Amidst the crescendo of grunts and moans
And the notes of Ahs and Yes
Oh, what beautiful music we play together.    

The colors of us

Red

Blue

Green

Yellow

Brown
Black


I see a 
thousand colors
as you 
stroke and painted
my little world.

Picture credit:   gildam.tumblr.com