Musing to Music

I write and I type and I click and I clank

and I listen to the beat of those keys on the plank.

And it’s all too much and I know that it’s true

that I need soft music to dim that mechanical tune.

Pandora is slowly becoming my best buddy. I was a little late to the game in discovering it, but now that I’ve come to build my custom playlists around whatever mood I could possibly be in, I just can’t begin to articulate intelligently without that smooth jazz station that I’ve come to rely upon.

  • Musicals for when I’m feeling peppy and fantastical, but also slightly depressed.
  • Country for when the sun is shining and I’m in a tractor riding mood.
  • Chumbawamba for those days I wear neon scrunchies and yearn for my 90’s childhood.
  • Disney for every single day that I want to be happy.
  • Love Songs for times that I want to envelop my feelings in sap.
  • Smooth jazz for when I’m feeling classy and ready to write the greatest works known to man.

When I listen to music I feel a vitality and energy present in my words that I’d be missing without those soulful tones. I feel ready to write, eager to express, and positively busting to shine through that traditional text and set my words alight with passion.music

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A Case of the Mondays

The Mondays of wintertime is God’s acknowledgement of myself.

I wake up to the chilled air of a Monday knowing exactly what’s in store for my toes before they reach the abrasive black and teal tiles of the shockingly frigid floor.

I shiver.

I prance over to my red and cozy slippers by the door which have been worn down to a thin layer that is barely enough to keep those black and teal tiles away from my bare skin.

I stretch.

I gather clothes from my closet, and with half opened eyes that are sticky with my night’s slumber I dress and trade my red slippers for black boots.

I yawn.

I walk across the campus in those black boots, appreciating the frosty grass and faithful squirrels who join me on this Monday ritual.

I breathe.

I continue past the residential buildings and watch as people open doors to the world as if their gentle touch could shush the tires on nearby cars.

I relax.

I admire the ears of those with steps as soft as mine, looking much prettier when not adorned with headphones.

I sigh.

I step into work and the elevator dings and the coffee is brewing and I struggle to unlock my door and an early riser talks on their phone and I wonder when my keyboard became so loud as to punish my calm with each key stroke and a printer comes to life and the trash is being collected and papers are dropped in the hallway and the unfrosted window now holds a sun fresh with the promise of an end to my muted Monday.

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An Ode to Swimming Pools

Please enjoy this silly little poem about how in love I am with swimming pools.

Swimming pools, oh swimming pools, what to even say?

The way I anticipate your cooling embrace all throughout the day.

It gives me chills to think of you and you light a certain spark.

Especially when I jump in and see your inflatable blow-up shark.

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My affinity for swimming pools runs deeper than an in-ground.

Especially when I noticed all the bugs you’ve sweetly drowned.

Though our time together is brief, I cherish your blue waters,

The only thing you could improve, is if you were filled with otters.

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For the joy you bring to me, swimming pool, I will always yearn,

Even when I must leave you, because your owners have returned.