The Keys

piano keys

When the hard work came

and fingers fell flat

in dyslexic stumbles

at the stern reminders

of the metronome

who eyed her sharply

over dog-eared pages,

it didn’t feel as though

she had been handed

the keys to the kingdom.

It would take thousands

of chromatic notes to scale

that mountain, thousands

of butchered melody lines

to bindĀ chords of muscle memory

and visual acuity into

harmonious union,

inversions ringing

as theory sang its way

into practise.

She couldn’t tell you

when the notes began to stir

something more than

soured milk in her soul,

when the melodies

sank into her bones

and played her heart-strings

in tones of salvationĀ songs;

all she knows is that

these keys have unlocked

Rapunzel’s gate,

releasing the Muse,

and fingering their well-worn

skin ignites her own

with a song

that beats in her breast

with the sound

of her own

pulse.

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Sunshine’s Serenade

iceload.jpg

Tympani tap out your beat,

pitter-patter at my feet,

notes that songbirds’ trills repeat,

raindrops unafraid.

Drips and drops in double time,

church-bells’ cheerful childhood chime,

sweet percussion, Springtime rhyme,

Sunshine’s Serenade.

Trumpet of Gold

Trumpet of gold, goblet of brass,

Calling to angels on seas of glass,

Vibrating melodies while hymns pass

Over your golden throat.

Instrument bold in court on high,

Summoning worshippers in the sky,

Heavenly choir, sweet by and by,

Warbling your golden note.