Val enjoys writing prose in rhymes by always leaving a message of a life truism in each piece.
Let those wise heads keep pondering over the true purpose of life -- as for me, it's all about this divine sense of heart's magic, sometimes called romance. And it's all in one place -- this joy, this love for the special one sharing my path, and this love for all gifts of nature including those so often associated with that feeling -- like flowers, sunsets, and moonlights.
For beauty is woven into the very texture of so many memories richly spiced by those hormones of youth, as if blind to the world's strife and disharmony in all their forms and crazy intensities.
I don't know about you, but in my case it takes but a song or anything small to mentally shift me into that gear of youthful magic of romance, where the mysterious hand of soul manages to paint all reality in vibrant colors.
They say: "Youth is so wasted on the young ones" -- while seemingly so many don't appreciate that precious stage of life when magic is all around.
But again, my oddball nature has never given up on reliving that age, and any little thing may trigger those same moods when life feels so complete and fulfilled and worth every breath.
So, here I go, inspired by these feelings on this sunny winter day to give them a verbal expression, albeit in truth, no words can possibly do them justice.
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words, and that which cannot remain silent.
All Romantic Music Gone
Where is the music melodious and cool
the one long before heavy metal and rap
now played by every angry hysterical fool
that pushed away finesse for this noisy crap.
Gone are days of romantic expression
with roses and lips on an album's cover
when lyrics displayed a gentle confession
so adding to the words of each hopeful lover.
Under dimmed light we would slowly dance
in embrace, as if blending with each other
hearts so resonating in musical romance
nothing in this world that could bother.
Music that made you seek a mate
giving your dreams a new dimension
as you rehearsed words for that first date
those mellow sounds easing down the tension.
Music that helped memories to be made
for years to come crowned with silver hair
in so many romantic hearts it forever stayed
deaf to this crappy noise which can't compare.
Generations are coming with something new
each but expressing their own musical mood
but it's not meant for me, and maybe for you
those times are gone when music was good.
We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
From the Lips of My Muse
Oftentimes she lulls me into a poetic trance
her whisper not always so easy to perceive
but enough for rhymes, their rhythmic dance
and for yet another human story to conceive.
Wondrous is magic of words at their play
with mystery of where they are springing
and how they know what they want to say
like free flowing lyrics in carefree singing.
What in me insists on expressing my soul
lining every vibrant and meaningful letter
like in a rehearsal of some theatrical role
stumbling at first, but then getting better.
If my Muse would happen to be human
she might look like Madonna with child
or like an angel disguised as a woman
with that mysterious Mona Lisa smile.
I see her again as she is waving good-bye
reading this last verse from her smiling lips
I smile back at her with this trembling sigh
while ending yet another of my poetic trips.
One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is love.
An Incorrigible Romantic
Crystal dust of stars reflected in this heart
as they sit on horizon with their gentle touch
like a visual lullaby with its every dreamy part
and enchanting me with its spell ever so much.
Born a romantic, a romantic I'll die
blending into spirit of nature's delight
breathing with breeze caressed by its sigh
discovering all my purpose in every moonlight.
I run out of words when heart wants to speak
and let it be all unspoken, just felt in my core
not minding to look like a sentimental freak
but letting it bloom in me forever more.
For what's other sense of living this life
if heart is short of this magical feeling
this happens in absence of any strife
with a starry night as soul's ceiling.
My memories are made of this fabric so divine
and my future is basking in sunshine of trust
with present aromatic like glass of old wine
that, my friend, is often bordering with lust.
© 2021 Val Karas
Peggy Woods from Houston, Texas on January 22, 2021:
I enjoyed reading your poems and can relate to much of the old-time music with real words and meanings. You are correct in writing that a song can zip us back in memory to earlier times.