Val enjoys writing prose in rhymes by always leaving a message of a life truism in each piece.

Introduction

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.

--Victor Hugo

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.

-- Sophocles

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

Comments

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.