Scales

You start a lesson with a scale
with your brain remembering how the note sounds,
drawing a buzz as it recite the fingerings.
Up and down, then back up, maybe a step down to go two steps up again
the pattern sure in its cycle.

Music reminds us that things have beats & measures
not unlike poetry. not unlike science. not unlike communication.
The number four is important in music, and prevalent in nature and division.

Today though, I was reminded of a minor scale;
A note below the natural, yet still a part of the greater piece, evoking the sounds of longing & melancholy.
It reminded me of seasons, of the number four and how things are always connected.

You start a lesson with a scale, because the sureness of what is supposed to come next…
calms the chaos around you.

Small Sweet Nothings

Would you like to come to Target with me?
Do you want a cup of coffee before work?
Will you unlock the door for me when I get home?

yes
beats the answer

Would you want to take a drive?
Do you like my haircut?
Will you feed the cats for me?

yes
beats the answer

Would you like to tell me about your day?
Do you want to hold my hand?
Will you hold me close?

yes
beats the answer

 

A Response in Poem Form

Fault – by morgan

Faults in the Earth’s Crusts were predestined.
Normal. Reverse. Strike-Slip.
They form due to movement that cannot be stopped,
Puzzle pieces re-aligning.

Faults turn into movement
creating unavoidable uproar—
Yet to be living is to be in motion
and we are all in this circle together…

So why is it humans find fault in others as a
failure?
That word instead translates an image of never again.
Cast far into the universe—out of sight.

Instead, we must learn how to view our faults as our own versions of
growth
Reverse the thought of failures as always being shame.
Normal is created — it is up to you to define.
Strike against remaining stagnant.

Slip is the sound the rejection makes, as it rolls off you.
Excess removed.

If whole continents can reshape
and we ourselves contain multitudes & altitudes,
then we can comb through the remains of our earthquakes to find
Small treasures of wisdom.

We must learn from our inevitable.

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**This poem was written in response to the line “So it goes.” as it appears in Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut**

 

Morning

Morning is my time,
Why hello there, Sweet Sunshine
Blossoming against the windowpane

Come play,
Come meet your day

Its insistent rays make my eyes open

Birds are chirping
Tasks are lurking
Hours stretch ahead

For now, and evermore
I aim to keep this smile you bore
At me, my forever treasure, as I make the coffee

by morgan 8.22.18

A Poem Before You Sleep

Good night, sweet night, loving night
Sweeps the landscape
Dark and draping, looming and glowing
A blanket of dreams
Softens the harshest of light,
Promises of better
When you awake

I imagine us being tucked in by Mother Earth
Herself

Candescent against the back drop,
The stars can be seen,
Flirting with the eye,
Now you see me or perhaps not, they twinkle
In their code of dust and memories

When we dream, where do we go?
I imagine us up there, with the stars
Because why else are we told to
Shoot for the Stars!
If we were not already en route?

by morgan