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POEM: Misplaced Melodies

Misplaced Melodies

I cannot place my finger upon it
That tune that has plagued me,
And that is what drives me mad
Trying to recall a forgotten song
Trying to forget a mistaken melody

Cupping my hand to my ear
To catch the stars singing
Straining my eyes,
To see what purple the moon makes
When it kisses the edge of a cloud

And it aches my heart,
So, I catch my breath,
And I double back,
Then I surge ahead

All for naught,
For I know how the song will end
though I have yet to play it through

My eyes, on a sky I cannot reach
My feet, in soil so rich I cannot help but bloom
My mind, twirling in circles
And my heart singing so,
as to put the stars to shame

copyright 2018


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What I learned from Ella Fitzgerald

Criticism and Growth I feel Ella is one of the classiest, talented women in the world. Her voice is sheer perfection. It just is. Clear, eloquent and playful when desired and soulful when desired. By throwing myself into her body of work, I got to read and hear about her journey. She was a street kid. She danced and sang on the street corner. When she auditioned for Chick Webb, they said no, she was fat and she stank...she was to black and to ugly (they were looking for a pretty rival for Billie Holiday). She could hear them. She auditioned anyway with her head held high. Her diction, tone, pitch....PERFECT. 

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At night, when my wings are laid to rest And my love and I prepare for the little death, (The one that has hope of morning light on soft brown skin), I chatter like a child and place my head upon his chest
And there is joy and expectation, for one day We will be planted in the earth like seeds Our bodies laid side by side he and I In the land his ancestors plowed Proudly put an X on the deed (Pride of ownership far outweighing the shame of illiteracy),
My love and I will wait, we, Will wake to true light Every tear, every tear Ever shed, consoled Truth and light Maranatha

Copyright 2018