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- 08/26/2016
- 327 Words
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Occasional Poetry - 40. Sonata
i>Music and Poetry connected in my mind this week. This is for everyone, even if you never played a note or wrote a line. As always, the errors here are solely mine.
Sonata
I. Allegro
Your smile at me, though just for fun,
was like Vivaldi in the sun,
admitting not a minor strain
in letting joy go free to run.
That grin, which could dispel the rain
and every dissonance disdain,
a swift accelerando starts
behind my ribs, and I am slain.
My skills in the attractive arts
are next to nil, and oh, that smarts;
I play a standup fiddle mean,
but you need naught to top the charts.
It's better that I'm heard than seen,
so not to mar the spring so green;
at least until the season's done,
when my escape can be made clean.
II. Adagio
A breaking heart I now possess,
it beats piu lento in distress;
I blame your smile, it's all I see,
for I am smitten, I confess.
My hours play in a doleful key,
in sad impossibility;
for just another glance I pine,
but such is not my destiny.
To memory I must consign
all thoughts of you, and so resign
myself to tables set for one,
and on my fancies there to dine.
I know that I have just begun
a long, unhappy road to run;
I cannot wish for you the less,
so I your every haunt must shun.
III. Presto
I hear the phone, I rub my eyes -
a number I don't recognize;
who could this unknown caller be,
perhaps some random survey guys?
The box again rings melody,
disturbing my blank reverie,
I choose to let the call go through
for sake of curiosity.
I answer without much ado,
and hear a nervous "Is that you?"
and furioso bangs within -
I know that voice; it can't be true.
You got my number, I'm a-spin,
and I cannot control my grin,
you're here before an hour flies,
and I can't wait to let you in.
em>Leave a rant, a rave, a thought,
or tell me what you think I ought
to do (at least if it's polite),
and I will try to make it right.
I really appreciate comments of all sorts and varieties.
or tell me what you think I ought
to do (at least if it's polite),
and I will try to make it right.
I really appreciate comments of all sorts and varieties.
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7
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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