Music – a definition

Music is everywhere and everything. It teases the ears with hypnotic rhythms that send us into a trance and waves of sound that make every cell in the body vibrate. Keys that define moods, major and minor, with chords that bring the sound together as one. Words that make us repeat them like parrots and take them to our hearts and soul as though written just for or about us. Every instrument paints in its own unique colour, making masterpieces visual not just aural, and opens our eyes to new journeys that words alone could not do. Vocals do not need synthetic additions, they’re an instrument in their own right, and lose their true emotion when become one with machine. Together it makes a special something that can lift our spirits or make us cry, a therapy and medicine that’s not a luxury but necessity for surviving life.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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Music of the stars

Insomnia called my name so loudly no part of me would sleep,
Opened my window in hope the pre-dawn air would defeat him.
My eyes looked out at the view I painted afresh every morning,
But something was different this time as no birds were singing.
I scanned up, left to right as though looking in a word search,
In that moment the stage curtain went up to begin the show.
Then the first few began to appear like in Cats the musical,
Crawling out in song throughout the different parts of the sky.
 
Ursa Major led the way front of stage with her distinct patterns,
Like the lead actress that everyone would know the name of.
She was joined by a chorus of other constellations in singing,
As I watched and listened to the musical of the morning sky.
Gemini and Leo sang a duet of friendships and partnerships,
Which reminded me of close friends that bare those signs.
No cameras recorded it but all the atoms of my body danced,
I felt privileged l was watching a secret screening of this show.
 
Slowly one by one their songs were done and sky went dim,
And a cold breeze touched me all over like the fat lady’s finale.
I took my old blanket from my bed to wrap myself up for sleep,
Shutting my window to a view now forever covered in glitter.
Lying down I felt like the mire from the week now drift away,
Freeing from the pains and worries that had made me cry.
I shut my eyes afresh knowing I had survived another week,
A fresh chapter had begun but must sleep for the next page.
 
© Fi S. J. Brown

The autumnal opera

The autumnal opera opens with the air biting like a bitter lemon on dry lips and the air smelling of decaying leaves and wood smoke. A prima donna sings an aria that touches almost every leaf, painting them every shade of red, yellow and orange; each colour matching the notes of her song. This is then echoed by a chorus throughout the land, turning forests to fire with colour. At the same the daily rhythm goes from legato to staccato, as the day length gets shorter, which in turn makes the leaves fall like ghost notes as few hear the sound of them falling. The crunch underfoot as walk through them is like listening a plucked cello playing, which is at times drowned out by the violins mimicking the sounds of human traffic. Then as the final note is sung, trees stand bare, and the theatre empties till all is silent. Well at least until Jack Frost sings his melancholy blues next season.

© Fi S. J. Brown