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Literature Text
A broken melody
Holds a key
Deep within the chords
Of a rundown piano,
Where I used to play
A song of relief,
Remembering.
While browsing the pieces
Of my song book
I write.
Turning the pages,
Scribbling a note,
So I could bring back
A song,
That once played
The keys to my heart
With a resounding tone
As I recall every song
I have played
with my piano,
So blissfully,
So wistfully,
That I almost forgot
What it really means,
To be alive...
While performing,
While listening,
A broken melody.
Holds a key
Deep within the chords
Of a rundown piano,
Where I used to play
A song of relief,
Remembering.
While browsing the pieces
Of my song book
I write.
Turning the pages,
Scribbling a note,
So I could bring back
A song,
That once played
The keys to my heart
With a resounding tone
As I recall every song
I have played
with my piano,
So blissfully,
So wistfully,
That I almost forgot
What it really means,
To be alive...
While performing,
While listening,
A broken melody.
Literature
Broken Music Box
I pulled the stars over your comely eyes
stretching my arms stiff
until they covered your body blue.
Its shadows were brave enough to keep us well hid
for the shimmer gold in your hair beaconed all lovers lost.
We found ourselves on a beach, whose sand I could not place,
our bare feet sweeping the froth of the waves.
The brightest stars as our guide led us to the end
of a pair of sea docks and washed upon it
a broken music box, wood crippling its age.
I breathed into it [but only after you],
and from it came a sound that played like the ballet.
One which neither you nor I had danced to,
but our fingers entwined without words
to
Literature
Forget-You-Nots
As soon as goodbye fell from your lips,
Rolled down the front of your shirt,
And shattered against the floor--
Echoing like a pin dropping in silence,
It was at that moment I decided,
You never existed.
Each letter, each gift, each song
You dedicated and whispered in my ear,
Burned, thrown away, and forgotten.
Never happened. Not even a thread
Of you within my mind,
My heart or my dreams.
Replaced the sheets on the bed
Because cleaning them wouldn't do.
Every thing in the house
Just reminded me of you.
Even went as far to replace the shampoo
Literature
Habits
I've been picking up bad habits. They're everywhere.
I find them on the ground sometimes. I think people drop habits a lot, because I check the same places plenty of times, and there's always something new. At the laundromat alone, I've picked up smoking, nail-biting, and staring, all in the course of a single week. That's not to say it isn't worth trying new spots now and then, though. Once, by the side of the road, I found nose-picking out of sheer dumb luck.
The subway is another hot spot. You got to be willing to sort through them, though. It's easy to find fidgeting or breathing with your mouth open; that's common stuff. If you
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Do you know what it means to be alive?
I've been playing the piano since high school (more or less 5 years now) but I still don't know how to read notes. LOL! Yeah, I guess that's how it is. I rely heavily on chords and piano tabs. This is the reason why I made this poem... I've always been searching for the right chord, the right tone of a song that will complete... my own piece, my broken melody.
Vito Cruz, Manila
February 22, 2008
I've been playing the piano since high school (more or less 5 years now) but I still don't know how to read notes. LOL! Yeah, I guess that's how it is. I rely heavily on chords and piano tabs. This is the reason why I made this poem... I've always been searching for the right chord, the right tone of a song that will complete... my own piece, my broken melody.
Vito Cruz, Manila
February 22, 2008
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this makes me want to practice more often