This is a bit forced as I've lately felt starved from writing and needed a splurge. I played a few songs from my iTunes classical music playlist and wrote down exactly what feelings the music evoked.
"Epic Suite," from the Doctor Who Soundtrack Season 1, 11th Doctor
I'm running through the forest
voices carry toward me
I'm hitting my feet along the thorn bushes
Crescendo into something sweetly mysterious
but what color the trumpets give it.
Impending death until The Doctor is sure to come
around the long-winded corner.
Do I belong here? What is my old life?
What is this one? Can he be a part of it?
Safety in his magical dark blue cloak
until I'm too old
for my face to provide him solace.
"7th Syphony" by Beethoven
The dark castle level on Mario Kart
where I'm crossing the stone bridges outside
and trying my damned hardest not to fall.
If I fall I may as well start from the first track,
as it will surely entitle me to less than first place.
The lamps inside the castle flicker and spark,
just like they seemed to inside the mansion in that
story "The Mask of the Red Death" we had to read
in Sophomore year English. All I could picture
while reading that story I remember was
Darth Maul's red horned face,
from Star Wars: Phantom of the Menace -
what a terrible movie.
Unexpectedly cheery section break?
So now the lanterns have been lit,
the old decrepit mansion renovated like the one
Is my mind really full of all these useless pop
Music has hastened tenfold. This must have been
where Beethoven's cup of coffee kicked in.
Listen to those fingers go.
Now I'm dancing quick-footed across a ballroom
in the mansion from Jumanji, with a boy I've met
since arriving in Northern Ireland.
What I'd give for a little bit of coordination.
As the music slows down, I'm laughing against his
shoulder. No matter how much coordination
my conscious has allotted me for this brief fantasy,
it is not enough to allow me to keep
up with the idiosyncrasies of this symphony, and
as a result, I have stepped on the boy's toe in our dance.
"Doors of Life" by Isaac Shepherd
A fairy most definitely flits across my line of sight:
Things are definitely good now.
She comes back to lean toward me,
conspiratorially looking at me with wide eyes,
cupping one hand around her mouth
as if to stifle the sound from my roommates
and says, "Stop your worry."
"For Lise" by Suzanne Ciani
I leave the uneasy plane behind
and soar through comfort.
I leave my stomach three flips
and 2,000 ft. above me.
I leave Will with it
and fly boundless.
"Expression" by Helen Jane Long
I sleepwalk past what was my own bathroom
and follow the horseshoe shape of the house
through the open doors, tip-toe to my
parents' bathroom instead.
I see their resting bodies along the way.
Was it the bathtub I wanted?
I glide on.
I've wet myself in the tub.
Tears, pee, confusion, wakefulness.
I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.