The Music Maker- by Jane Morin
Award Winning Poem
Music is eccentric
It is the being in who I am.
Whether in poetic stride
Or a keyboard for my hands
Music declares the inner thought
It persuades the soul to release
All inhibitions, all inner fears
To follow its simple heartbeat
Music is diverse in nature
A perpetual jungle rhythm
An orchestrated symphony
Or an oceans’ psaltery interlude.
They all possess overtures
The very enamored melodies
The harmonies of the ancients
The misunderstood contemporaries
Cadenza or Canon
Banjos to bagpipes
Ballad to Opera
Baritone to Tenor
Bass to Soprano
O, music is an anomaly
Though it has its rules,
They are allowed to be broken
In respect for an authors expression
Melodic preference prevails
The young, the old,
The mid life, the teen,
All have their favorite of piece.
Left to be acquired
A world without music
Will never be
It is the rhythm of creation
The song He sings over me
God’s ultimate conception
To calm the baby and the beast
Its intricate design
Played out for eternity
We are the music of tomorrow
We are the tune of present day
A life song giving glory
To the Ancient of Days.
We are His drumbeat walking bravely
In harmony and liberty
We’re the call of His redemption
The song that sets the captive free!
We are a living orchestration
In which members are being gathered
So that we may sing His highest praise
As an army who can’t be wavered.
For when He comes the trumpet will sound
And His music will fill the firmament
And no matter what genre you possess
The Maestro will be in charge of it!
He is the ultimate composer
The articulator of each note
We are simply a branch, a stanza,
Bowing in honor of His ultimate solo.
His solo was a song, So sad and sweet
Upon a cross one very dark day
So that we might understand His love for us
And comprehend His intonations and ways.
My music is my life of surrender
Given to the One who is all deserving
My song of thanksgiving, the loudest of all To the Music Maker, in whom I am serving!