Musical Musings 5/20/2016

Evening Musings: 

I’ve been staring out the window at night a lot, of late. The sky replete with her wondrous and vivid mysteries. Our clandestine meetings…. Playing coy with her shades, her colors,  muted, but breathtaking. Teasing. Beckoning. Speaking.  What will she tell me, tonight? 

The moon shouted my name across a cloud,  reaching me as a whisper,  saying things; haunting things; beautiful things. “What is music? “, I dared ask. It was the question on my mind. A star twinkled, and made a discernible sound- the voice of a small child’s glorious giggle, peeking around the seemingly vanished embers of the sun. 

“You tell me?” The voice searing lightly across  constellations had countered. I searched my cerebral Thesaurus. I needed intelligent, mystical verbiage for this conversation,  but nothing. “Come on! You’re smarter than this”, Crystal said to Cryss. I acquiesced, thinking, “maybe not”.  The thing I love, the thing I crave,  the thing that is…. I can’t find the words. The lexicon I’ve loved had failed me. 

A silent and melodic breeze played my vertical blinds like Brahms’ Lullaby. Lillith perched angrily by, a silenced Banshee, still stewing over the one she couldn’t get. The one covered in the Blood. 

It started in my chest.  A tickling,  as buzzing sensation. Working its way through every nerve,  every pore, every fiber; bone, cartilage,  sinew-  flowing like liquid joy.

You see, I was singing all along. We were singing a harmonious duet.  Ah, sky,  there’s your answer.  See you tomorrow night.

Vizionairee Jones-2016

The Wordless Writer 

Years ago, in the late 80’s, I wrote two lines of a poem, of which I never completed.  I had writer’s block. Once in a blue, I’d run across it and think,” Will I ever finish?”, and if not, “What ever would I need with a two line poem?” Here goes:

I am no longer a Writer 

A maker of velvet phrases…


Yup, that’s it. 

Fast-forward to this evening,  4/12/2017. I watched a documentary entitled, “13th”, Directed and Produced by Ava DuVernay. There’s ALWAYS a use for poetry.

Strength in Weakness

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STAY. JUST STAY!

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An Abusive Shadow

On fighting my shadow:

It wins. It always wins.

How is that possible? What does my shadow know of me, that it can strategize so well? How does it render me helpless with such ease?

The punches are brutal. Fast. Quick. Painful. Lingering. 

My shadow smiles knowingly; teasing, bullying, taunting….

Sometimes, I don’t even fight back.