Where the Magic Is
This is where the magic is made,
where the magic is real.
It doesn’t come from wands or spells, but from
strings and
chords and
threads of melodies sewn together
by the rat-a-tat-tat of the snare that
ensnares your soul and glazes over your eyes
so you lose sight of the world outside of
here,
outside of this room,
this one fleeting moment in a history
of moments,
none of which are as magical and
enchanting as this.
No, you can’t see it, don’t see it
– or don’t want to? –
but here is where you can hear. Where
you hear.
Hear the passion,
the hope,
the sheer joie de vivre.
This.
This is perfection,
this is simplicity,
complexity,
cacophony,
free flow,
and harmony.
Harmony.
Harmony because here is where there are
no individuals,
no competition between or among envious souls
trying to prove superiority over one another.
No, here is where there is only a one,
not an I or a me or a you or a my or a him or
a her.
No, here is a one, an us, a we,
a home constructed of notes as fine as
the lines on which they are written.
Written in the way in which we write of
these small moments,
these little bits of precious jewels
that will soar
along on our coattails far after this
enchantment breaks and we depart for the evening.
But I’m not going to think about the
inevitable pop of this silk-thin soap bubble.
No, I’m here,
here right now,
and I am alive,
living for this moment,
living
in this moment,
in this magic,
this music,
these soul-bearing stories we share
through song and rhyme,
through rhythm and little reason.
This.
This is where the magic happens,
and it is in our hearts,
our
memories,
our ears,
to remember,
to listen to on repeat in our minds,
to never forget.
Never forget.
Magic is real, and it lives and lies here, in
each of us right now.
The magic is real, so hold on to it and don’t
forget.
Don’t forget the magic,
the
peace,
the harmony,
the love,
the us.
Because here, here is where the real magic is.
Out of Tune
When I write you in a song,
I fall in love with the melody of our hearts,
Yours beating next to mine.
Then the song ends and you are no longer an open book,
As you try to play me,
Take me for a whirl,
No rests in your staccato beat.
Only half notes, never whole,
As you only give me pieces of yourself.
We crescendo into yelling,
As our relationship diminuendos
Into only a memory of a tune,
Whistled absentmindedly on a
Nothing-special sort of day.
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| Picture courtesy of Google Images and http://bonnethouse.wordpress.com. |
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The Space Among the Stars
The transference of our souls
Settles my mind into a transcendent calm
In this space among the stars
Where we lay together as one
In a twinkling abyss of solace and solitude.
I am coming to the realization
That this peaceful era of our lives
Is beginning to deflate
As we float back down on the breeze
Of our existence
And return softly to Earth,
Treading along the misty ground
As we part ways for the night.
All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.
A Meeting of Genius
High in a building, up on the fourth floor
Frost strides in through a wide open door.
“Good evening, my friends!” he calls quite aloud.
“I apologize for my lateness – I met such a crowd
While stopping by the woods this snowy evening.
That road not taken is truly deceiving!
I used it as a shortcut to get here nice and quick
But my horse was delayed for the snow was so thick.”
“Well, that’s quite all right,” Mr. Poe replies.
“Simmer down! Simmer down!” Wordsworth cries.
“Can’t we just enjoy our solitary bliss
For just another moment for something is amiss?”
“What are you speaking of?” asks Emily as the phone rings.
“Aha! I know why the caged bird sings,”
Pipes up Maya Angelou.
“Yes, and in all of my sympathy, I do too,”
Says Paul Laurence Dunbar, quick as a whip
“Hush now! Be nice! I’ll have none of your lip!”
They all quiet down and hear neighs from the stable
Then the great poets gather at Alfred’s round table.
Why, there’s Frost and Dunbar and Ms. Angelou.
There’s Carroll and Hughes and Whitman’s there too.
Longfellow sits next to Poe on his right,
Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Byron the head of the plight.
Dunbar and Dickinson sit at opposite ends
And when they’re all seated, Alfred begins:
“I was expecting a guest, a woman from Shalott.
Though she was joining us, I’m afraid now she’s not.”
“Was it the Jabberwock that got her?” Carroll inquires.
“Did she fall out her window and onto the spires?”
“No, no, not that,” Alfred says with a sigh.
“T’was the water that took her on up to the sky.”
“I know how you feel,” murmurs Poe with a grumble.
“My Annabel Lee, too, took a tumble
Out of our boat and right into the sea.
But she’s still there at night when she lies next to me.”
“Oh, have hope, dear Alfred,” Emily sings
“For hope is that bird in your soul with the wings.”
“Is it a raven?” asks Poe evermore.
“An Albatross?” Coleridge asks, still unsure.
“Wait! Do you hear that?” Whitman shouts.
“How could you not? It’s so loud!”
Hughes answers. “It sounds like singing to me.”
“Yes, from everywhere it seems to be.
From the wood-cutter to the woman, it’s here
The sounds that bring from me a tear.”
“If only my Lenore could hear this,” Poe mutters
Soft as wind breezing over shutters.
“Is that a midnight rider coming?” inquires Longfellow.
“Well, it’s not a Spanish ballad, as you well know,”
Retorts Frost, lifting his glass up high.
“To a happy and successful night!”
He toasts, drinking deeply from his draught
“And many more here aft!”
Adds Lewis, dreaming of his life.
“To fun, success, and little strife!”
Shout the rest, singing their motto loud and clear;
“And to pursue our love without a trace of fear!”
And so they laugh and talk and eat and sing and write
As their meeting of genius continues throughout the night.
All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.
Across a Midnight Ballroom
She wonders if true love truly exists,
If there’s such a thing as love at first sight,
As she searches for a love to hold and to miss,
Looking in fleeting glances stolen through the night.
If there’s such a thing as love at first sight,
He hopes that he’ll find her as he stares around,
Looking in fleeting glances stolen through the night,
Yearning that someone here is the person to be found.
He hopes that he’ll find her as he stares around,
She glimpses at him as quick as a kiss
Yearning that someone here is the person to be found.
Could it be him? She can only wish.
She glimpses at him as quick as a kiss.
He looks back at her, twirling another in desperate plight.
Could it be him? She can only wish.
For the woman’s he with surely cannot be right.
He looks back at her, twirling another in desperate plight.
Dying to dance with her, determination clenches his fists
For the woman’s he with surely cannot be right.
He gazes at her, mesmerized in sheer bliss.
Dying to dance with her, determination clenches his fists,
As she searches for a love to hold and to miss.
He gazes at her, mesmerized in sheer bliss.
She wonders if true love really exists.
All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.
Neverland
Fly off to Neverland,
Where hearts grow old and dreams stay young.
Adventure into the spirit of childhood,
Dare to do what you wished you had before
Innocence was snatched away
With only a trace of the fairy dust of youth.
Lie down in the land where fairies dwell,
Greedily suckling at the bosom of time.
Forget not what you have learned,
But learn to forget the way you learned it.
Is it a discovery of something new,
Or a loss of something hidden within?
Fly away to Neverland, but never land
Where souls are hidden away and left to wither
In solitude
While the façade of happiness lingers
On a string of gossamer spells
And fairies’ false enchantments.
All rights reserved. All written work on this page is the sole copyright of the author, username Dani, and may not be reprinted or used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. I certify that all work written here is original unless otherwise cited (such as in reference lists, etc.), and is my own. Any questions, comments, concerns, or requests for reprinting can be submitted to bookendreviews@gmail.com for review.
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