Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, (and yes, that quote is right. I researched it. "head nodding emphatically"). And it must be admitted that sometimes I do feel a bit savage. When I was a kid (waaaaay back when) the music of the time was The Mommas and The Papas, America, Abba, the Supremes, The Four Tops, Gladys Knight, and Gawd bless her, Aretha Franklin. Then it changed, and suddenly it was BoyzIIMen and Soul II Soul (and what was up with all the II’s I don’t know), but it was music that had rhythm and soul, a little bit of romance, ( and a little more sex). Then it changed again and it was Guns N Roses, Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails and Black Sabbath (and yes, I’m mixing genres, but don’t kill me- I’m getting ready to make a point here.)
For every memory I have, there is a sound- a song which just hearing it, makes me remember a time, and place, sometimes even a smell that brings up memories and shocks me into realizing just how far I’ve come. But while my memories revolve around music, I still find thattoo often I don’t dance to the beat of my own drum. I encompass a generation of changing music and changing ideals- and I realized that most of the music I like is some of the saddest, angriest music of my generation. In musical language, I am a minor lover (not like that, perverts!) I like songs in the minor key- think wistful, wailing, keening, songs or broad power ballads. I like Enya, Riverdance, wailing Indian sitars, Gladys and “The Midnight Train to Georgia”, and rock anthems all at the same time, because somehow they touch me. As if I’m the instrument being played by the music, some songs reach inside me and pluck a chord. But usually, not always, but usually- it’s a sad chord. I’d like to think I’m not a one note wonder, but I wonder if “Another Sad Love Song” (Toni Braxton, folks- before your time, I know) is all I’ll ever be able to play.
So, I figured I’d try channeling a little bit of that melancholy into a love song for an lonely black girl. Writing songs, poetry, prose- anything set to music is a good way to psychoanalyze yourself. You have to force yourself to get into a rhythm and you never know what will come out of your pen or your mouth. But whatever comes, will be your song, the song of yourself (to plagiarize..ahem, [ paraphrase] Walt Whitman).
Try your hand today at writing the music of your heart. Then, more importantly, share it with someone you love. Whatever comes out, I’m sure, will be music to their ears.
So, I wrote this song on a sad, rainy day, and believe it or not, did not use a rhyming dictionary.
I just followed my thoughts, around and around and around aaaand they came out here.
Still in a minor key, but that’s where my head was at.
Imagine, if you will, Celine Dion or Sarah Mclachlan singing this timeless classic....
or just read the poem and leave it at that.
Maestro, if you please....
Time and Silence
If I loved you like the burning sun, would you run from my harsh gaze?
If I loved you like a stormy day, would you stand out in the rain?
Can I love you like an ocean wave, drowning in the undertow?
Guess I’ll love in time and silence, and I’ll never let you know
Could you love me like the starlight, bathe me in your crystal glow?
Could you love me like the desert, stretching on forever more?
Could you love like time is nothing, say your love will never die?
Will you love me like the dawning, pure and new with each sunrise?
I could say my love is perfect, but you ‘d know that that’s a lie
I could say my love is peaceful, but my heart shifts like the tide
I could wish my love were simple, but it’s willful and unclear
And though it breaks my heart to pieces, still the remnants I hold dear
If you loved me for a moment, though it’s all you had to give
I would love you for a lifetime, though your heart I’d never win
I still love you like a river, flowing to an end unknown
I still love you like a flower, like a bud that has not bloomed
I still love you like a memory, haunting wherever I go
I love you still in time and silence, and I’ll never let you know