More poetic thoughts

Okay, so I thought I'd continue on with the "poetry" mood I am in and post just a few more things.

The following poem is unusual because, unlike most of my other works, it actually began its life as a song. It was also the first one I ever wrote. The words are scribbled in my notebook with scrawling solfege next to them.
There is a second verse, but I came up with it later and don't know where it is now. I don't even remember the title, but this song was the capstone of my "Music Psychology" project.

Little ones listen
to sounds in the womb,
music and voices,
and they feel at home.

Young minds are molded
by all that they hear
music brings feelings
and memories near.


The next two poems were written several months apart- there are pages and pages in between them. I put them together into a song by the same title, but didn't find the melody until over a year later. 8=)
The last 6 lines of the first part are actually finding their way into a different song at the moment. The second part inspired the second verse.
These are good examples of the rough beginnings of songs. Some lyrics stay the same from the beginning, others change or are replaced. Such is life ~

Letting Go
I thought I knew the answers,
held life at the reins,
didn't take those chances,
shied away from pain.
I was afraid that if I let go
I would lose myself.
I thought that safety lay in keeping my heart
high upon a shelf,

but now I'm letting go
I know you'll catch when I'm falling
with arms open wide to show

that through it all you will be there
I can count on you to care.

Now that I know,
I'm letting go.

Letting Go (part 2)
What of the little bird
who, for fear of falling,
never learns to fly?


This next one also inspired a song. I still wonder why we have to grow up. I choose not to ;)

Through Children's Eyes
How much more can children see
than "grown-up" eyes like you and me?
How much more can infants hear
that's long been hushed with each past year?
How much more can babies love
when still they feel light from above?
How much more can friends we be
if youth change to maturity?


This last one has quite a background. I got tired of being with people and noise one morning while vacationing at Lake Powell, so I woke up to watch the sunrise alone, and filled 10 pages of my notebook and half a memory card on my camera. This is the only poem that I captured that day.

Sunrise
Fiery diamond.
Latecomer to the world who,
with one mighty heave,
casts gold far across the land,
then reaches westward
to awaken the rocks,
greet the birds,
warm the leaves of dormant trees,
and, with warm hands,
mold a new day
from the stiff clay of sleep.


I don't know why I am not a morning person. I love being the first person awake. I guess it's more that I like staying up late, and don't like waking up. But once I am up, I love it. Just me and the vibrant beginnings. No two sunrises are ever alike. And this one was all mine. ~