Music Making

Every day a new beginning

The beginning of music making

Every emotion displayed with the melodies I’m thinking.

Happiness, sadness, rejoicing, and anger

Every emotion created differently to a beat of constant pulsing

Upbeats, down beats, tempos and syncopations

All uniquely created just like every single person

Every person I see, all the people I meet have a new melody that is coming from within

Every conversation a song

That could always go wrong

Too many beats in a measure and it’s suddenly overlong

It becomes an endless struggle that should never be prolonged

The music, the notes, the rest and the pauses

All play an important part in my mind of music making

Even though the songs are easily written,

They have never been spoken

Without being heard they can never have rejection 

No one ever knows what melody is coming from within

No one knows what is being written

Please don’t pry I won’t give in

Every beat, every pulse, every line of constant rhythm

Plays on and on with my hearts constant pumping

Sometimes pieces are repeated

Sometimes they are even deleted

Never knowing which line is going to be needed

Sometimes a bit of music can be forgotten

Like a memory that should never have happen

Dissonance and suspension

Ending up in resolution

Only to be disturb with all this emotional starvation

Always wanting, pleading, needing

No one ever remembers giving

This constant starvation is keeping us from living

Music is a blessing don’t forget about that

Music displays the truth and is not a liars act

It’s a talent to some and a profession to others

We take it for granted and no one truly remembers

That the songs being created are gifts that we should treasure

The crescendos of music build up like lust and hatred

To a point where the loudness is completely overrated 

The weight of this tension can only be resolved through a simple act of verbal confrontation

Getting rid of that load lets the music decrescendo

To a whisper in the ear,

A secret only a few can treasure.

Lust, hatred, loathing and love

Are all powerful emotions that become a huge distraction

They even cause problems with humble music making

Each person is different like a simple finger print

Making every song I’ve written a personal imprint.

Days filled with constant arguments and terrible strife

Should never end up with the stabbing of a knife

Why not have it end with being thankful for your life?

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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