Retrograde

I remarked on Facebook the other day that as I get older, I am more certain that beautiful melodies and lyrics are more often discovered rather than composed. Why do I say that?  Well,  honestly, a lot of the time, rather than composing music or lyrics, I feel as if I'm taking dictation. It is as if the music and lyrics arrive already composed, practically gift wrapped.  All I have to do is write them down.


I've talked with other creative people who say they have had similar experiences.  One woman, a fellow composer, told me that she often feels as if melodies float through the air and all she has to do is reach out and pluck one.


Another curiosity, to me anyway, is how as soon as I write something, whether music or words, I immediately forget it.  I only record a small fraction of my work.  Frankly, a lot of it's junk and isn't worth recording. I also lose a lot of it since I'm terribly disorganized and undisciplined. 


 But I guess the main reason is because recording is my least favorite thing to do.  I put it off until, too often, I never get around to it.


 I love writing, however. I do it compulsively and everywhere.  My house and car are full of scraps of melodies and lyrics I've jotted down on the backs of checks, store receipts, envelopes, book pages, etc.  The funny thing is that usually, when I come across one of those scraps of paper and read it, it's as if I'm getting a  peek into a somebody else's head, certainly not my own.  That's because I almost never remember anything about it.

  

The little poem that follows is one that I discovered a couple of days ago.  When I read it, I had a vague memory of perhaps writing it in my bedroom a few months ago. 

I offer it to you now.  



Retrograde


Pinpoint of light

In retrograde

Love grown remote

Pinprick of angst


Yet do I linger

Frozen in place

Eyes fixed on you

As you speed away


Be well and Good Luck and May Your Work Be Creative!  Martha Maria


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