Post by Shinga on Mar 23, 2010 23:50:03 GMT -5
I never really thought myself a song-writer, or a poet, but the other day I plucked a few strings on this beautiful mandolin in music class, and this song just struck me. Just the music to it, mind y'all, and I checked to make sure I wasn't just recalling some other, real song's tune. I wasn't, as far as I know.
I wracked my brain for words, and couldn't find any, until right after I went to bed, and looked over and saw a picture of a fantastic sunrise I took a month ago rising over the forest and mountains by our house. So, I jumped out of bed and I wrote. I've GOT to learn to play the mandolin so I can play the music for this. Anyways, this is what I wrote, for my song. It's called "Open Your Eyes." It's a little corny.
==
(The first verses are in a sort of bouncing, but happy, monotone-like-...tone. It's difficult to explain. I might just record myself singing it.)
Open your eyes to the chill spring morning,
The sunrise gilds the clouds of grey.
The birds sing out to the sky aborning,
Greeting and praising the graceful day.
The sun rises still and the clouds turn ashen,
Bleeding to colors of pink and blue.
The mountains stand to watch and are painted golden,
Their peaks outlined in a radiant hue.
(At this point the rhythm hitches and becomes more of a scale, that falls in pitch towards the end of the verse.)
Dawn sings on and the sun spins higher,
A luminous orb of life-giving fire, that'll
Never waver, never tire,
Or fade.
And sometimes when life fills you with ire,
When you can't see past what's harsh and dire.
Just know this beauty is a dance-like gyre,
And the following day...
(Now the music and tone returns to the first two verses' rhythm and beat after a very short rest in both music and voice.)
You open your eyes to the bright new morning,
To the sun burning all the clouds away.
It's an endless cycle, ever-turning,
Always reassuring the return of day.
The winds still sigh, and the trees' leaves shiver,
The grasses still sway, and the blossoms rife.
So relax, take a seat on the rock by the river,
Recline and observe and enjoy this life.
==
So, that's "Open Your Eyes!"
On to poetry (if it can be considered that). I've had a real interest in rogues and highwaymen, and especially bards. Such an interesting life they must have lead, the real ones, anyways. Traveling, playing songs and music, telling stories, spreading news. Something that I'd, to be honest, like to do if that kind of thing was still around. So, I wrote a weak little poem summarizing my (if misdirected) idea of how a bard must have lived.
"Lute and Lyre" is read like a normal poem, but a little faster with a sort of perky musical tone to it.
==
Lute and lyre,
Poet's ire.
A bard for hire,
And fox's fire.
A rhymer, a rogue,
A lonely road.
A pipe, an ode,
A sunny grove.
Tired feet,
A cobbled street.
Sunbleached wheat,
And summer's heat.
A theft, a fight,
A threat, a fright.
And now to light,
Out in the night!
I wracked my brain for words, and couldn't find any, until right after I went to bed, and looked over and saw a picture of a fantastic sunrise I took a month ago rising over the forest and mountains by our house. So, I jumped out of bed and I wrote. I've GOT to learn to play the mandolin so I can play the music for this. Anyways, this is what I wrote, for my song. It's called "Open Your Eyes." It's a little corny.
==
(The first verses are in a sort of bouncing, but happy, monotone-like-...tone. It's difficult to explain. I might just record myself singing it.)
Open your eyes to the chill spring morning,
The sunrise gilds the clouds of grey.
The birds sing out to the sky aborning,
Greeting and praising the graceful day.
The sun rises still and the clouds turn ashen,
Bleeding to colors of pink and blue.
The mountains stand to watch and are painted golden,
Their peaks outlined in a radiant hue.
(At this point the rhythm hitches and becomes more of a scale, that falls in pitch towards the end of the verse.)
Dawn sings on and the sun spins higher,
A luminous orb of life-giving fire, that'll
Never waver, never tire,
Or fade.
And sometimes when life fills you with ire,
When you can't see past what's harsh and dire.
Just know this beauty is a dance-like gyre,
And the following day...
(Now the music and tone returns to the first two verses' rhythm and beat after a very short rest in both music and voice.)
You open your eyes to the bright new morning,
To the sun burning all the clouds away.
It's an endless cycle, ever-turning,
Always reassuring the return of day.
The winds still sigh, and the trees' leaves shiver,
The grasses still sway, and the blossoms rife.
So relax, take a seat on the rock by the river,
Recline and observe and enjoy this life.
==
So, that's "Open Your Eyes!"
On to poetry (if it can be considered that). I've had a real interest in rogues and highwaymen, and especially bards. Such an interesting life they must have lead, the real ones, anyways. Traveling, playing songs and music, telling stories, spreading news. Something that I'd, to be honest, like to do if that kind of thing was still around. So, I wrote a weak little poem summarizing my (if misdirected) idea of how a bard must have lived.
"Lute and Lyre" is read like a normal poem, but a little faster with a sort of perky musical tone to it.
==
Lute and lyre,
Poet's ire.
A bard for hire,
And fox's fire.
A rhymer, a rogue,
A lonely road.
A pipe, an ode,
A sunny grove.
Tired feet,
A cobbled street.
Sunbleached wheat,
And summer's heat.
A theft, a fight,
A threat, a fright.
And now to light,
Out in the night!
That totally made my day <3
