Here is a poem, written on the fly, about nothing in particular. It may or may not contain references to film music. It is stream of consciousness. So here goes my attempt at poetry (if you're still reading after this point, I salute you).
A Short Poem
The sweetest voice speaks music to my ears,
and sings to my heart, which joins in the chorus
with its own quickening, rhythmic phrases.
The sky bleeds blue onto the floor,
the clouds burst open in atmospheric gore,
the sun has fallen, and we too will descend,
into the depths of everlasting darkness.
Yet Another Poem
Rose are red, unless they are white,
or pink, which is a possibility.
Violets are violet, which could be considered a bluish hue.
Sugar is sweet, but too much can cause negative reactions.
So you also can cause negative situations within the finely tuned system,
whichever system in which you inhabit.
But this is not to say that you can not be sweet...
And Still Another Poem
Songs of innocence
abound in the spring and
bear witness to the dawn of the new day
in every corner of the world,
new and renewed lives and loves
affirm the season's sweetest songs.
The Last Poem in the Cycle
With twenty four frames a second,
and a picture worth a thousand words,
there are thousands upon thousands of words worth of images,
summarized with a few well-placed notes,
by hands more skilled than my own.