A Piece of Musical Art

I was born in the misty moors of Priceless Worth. I was created with state of the art mechanics that have only been made possible by the instrument of faith. I am the vision of romantic tones of pristine beauty and a wide spectrum of light. In a warm sincere way, day dawned with elegant fluency. Glorious freedom was mine for the taking and so I rose rapidly in this timeless world.

I have no monumental achievement to crowd your mind with pleasure. I won’t ask you to build a circle of trust with me just because I made a framed baseball card worthy maneuver on the playing field. I won’t make you feel as if you have to attach a lot of importance to the flowering of my womanhood. But I will ask you to take a second to emancipate your mind from the episode and instead expand your mind to the dramatic wild thunderclaps that lead to this repertory.

Kind words were spoken in welcome when the sweet sound of culture rang in my ears. Sparks flew with a looming appearance and lingered until the dawn. The chill-inducing voice of the sound of harmony communicated the core ideas of what my everyday needs would become; musical.

I fastened my seatbelts and started to go at concord speed into music’s lively presence. I found myself stripping my skin of its sun and drawing the caramel mocha of it in words on lined paper. Poetry helped me to scale the fire escape from the scorchers of this world. There was no holding back when it came to digging into my essential core to speak my welled up warm tears. Over and over again, I would leave my day behind in a marble book of pages.

I found myself engaged in the meaningful activity of an ongoing pedagogical session. My teachers radiated my mind with some powerful information that should have guided my focus. In a thoughtful way, I would try to keep current with the writings on the board but at the same time, releasing my naked rocks in my notebook. I was only a minor detail then but poetry would flow out of my mind like the waterfalls of Haiti into a river running free.

I’d give my all with my back erect to chant my amazing experiences in songs from the poetic center. It may come as a surprise that I have been repeating the same songs since I was just the prime colors. Experience is golden and it altered my terrain. My world soon was decked with a funky new theme and my prism started growing wild.

My chief design is in the crazy magnetism that I have with the colors of music and lyricism. I am a melody and have been harmonized with music and dancing ever since I was coupled with the heart to pipe. It was in the moment of rhythms riding together in interlocking harmony. The authenticity of sound was a cool modern fused with retro. The silver rains of joy sprinkled like salt from a shaker. All I wanted to do was listen and sing gloriously along. Eagerness was abnormally high; beyond the point of no return. The ingredients of a good song had me dreaming in 3D.

How lovely is a richly detailed prose that can be inscribed by an antiquated enigma? How explosive the sound of a cultivated pleasure of voice to melting rhythms? How cool is the energetic force of a solid sound that is answered in kindness with accompaniment? How powerful and great, the life and vigor of verses set against the measure with its old school spirit and mark of grandeur? How crazy is it that history keeps repeating itself when asked to act but left on a Yahoo without a breaking of peace or some kind of return? With slender observation, I think my poetry has always been a response to the world like a blues song. The same blues song that I have been singing before sun even shone light on your oak.

Everything I am has always been locked up in my anthology of Caribbean verses and in my aerophone. I am not asking you to revere me just because I have a story to tell. I’ve been a classic since the cycle of stories began. But nothing can mask the realism of this framed image. I am a unique piece of musical art.


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