Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Vacation . . .

Paris
I have some time off . ..  and I am looking forward to another trip this year .. .. This one will be a little longer .  .  . and of course I will take pictures and share them with you . .  Don't I always? I am not sure how I will do it yet . . . but you will find out here as soon as I have a plan . . . probably I will store the pictures in albums in Picasa .  . and of course there will be stories to tell . .  and poems and of course I will still listen to music on Jamendo . . . of course . . . 


Look . . . I found a great album today:

Call Of the Wild
by SoLaRiS





And a poem by me:

Well, I have always known that SoLaRiS is good . . .
even great . . . I have always loved their music . . .
But getting even better . . . amazing . . !!!

fly to the northern seas . ..
where the light shimmers on the tossing waters . .
dive deep beneath the waves
and swim in the whale song . . . the ice cold depths . .
filtering light through, like splinters of gold . . .
the seas and the mountains, the valleys and skies
gift the bright stars with captured song . . .
as steam rises from the voice of the wolf . .
like incense it flows upward . . . ever . .
following the trail of the light . ..
there is a song in the wind as it follows
the sunset . . .and every molecule of nature
dances to that melody . . .

its beautiful, SoLaRiS . . . a symphony of beauty . . .
giving the gift of peace and tranquility . . . and vision



And this one . . . an old favorite (and dedicated to me on Wolfsongs):
Moonlight (single)
by Livio Amato







Poem and review by me:


I was so touched by this piece, when I first heard it on the album, Wolfsongs, that it took my breath away.

This song brings me into a meadow, under the moonlight, where I hear the crickets and I feel the light of the moon bathing my face, in powerful moving waves.

I am the wolf, flying along the moon-soaked stream
in the heart of the meadow . . . I am like smoke,
here and then nowhere . . .
a flash against
tall grasses moved by breezes . . .
and then gone . .
I am one with the earth
and the music gives me wings . . .

cold splashes of water lift my awareness . .
and I feel the long, warm call of the earth
as she responds to her children and her mate . . .
wolf knows these things . . .
and the music brings it home,
quietly and gently,
with a peaceful understanding . . .
and the heart of the mother beats . . .
as she envelopes her children . . .
and the heart of the mother beats . .
beneath the light of the moon . . .

Thank you, Livio . . .
you are one of the most inspiring musicians,
on Jamendo .. ..

and I wish you well . . .

***********************************************************

And one more before I go to bed:

Synthetic Breath
by Vanderson







And a poem/review by me . . .

The Sound of Peace

Stunning! A spacey, imaginative trip through haunting and forbidden places . .  sound so clear and impossible . . .. so unreal . . . as if time itself were stretched beyond reason . . . and diving back on itself . . . perhaps finding the ultimate divine . ..

I walked in silence through liquid sound . ..
parting before me revealing astonishing things . . .
dream like and solid as smoke . . .
the heady scent of flowers
falls on me like a heavy cloak . .
a kaleidoscope of sound forms shapes
and swim past me in changing colors
a trip which calms my soul . . .
vibrantly supporting this frail frame . . .
with something substantial as
the song of the stars . .
and the sound of peace shrouds me in
wings of cold splendor . ..

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The Meaning of Life . . .


Intro:
I collect little rabid bits of paper . .
believing that every thing has a  voice . .
and a song . ..
and if I collect enough and collate them correctly . .
put the pieces together . . . then
I will have the complete song . .  the one
which tells the story
of the world . .
I know it is there.  . I
often feel that story and suspect that it
has merely been misplaced . . .

I hear the voices of the crowd
and identify each as my love . .
I hear you clearly . . .
your hearts resonate
with mine . . .

in the old world
I looked and saw a flame
and as it consumed the
face of the land
it sang of the  spirits to come . .


A Play in Three Parts . . 


Part I


"Why do dogs stick their noses
out of car windows?" She asked .  . .
He answered, "because their scent receptors are
capturing all the latest news."
She looks pensive for a moment . .  even shocked, and
then glanced at him sharply . .
"And you know this how?"
he blushes . .  and she continues,
"I think they are feeling the ancient winds on
their cheeks and on their ear drums . .
and remembering
when they were wolves . . . "

Part II


She walks slowly with her hands
behind her back, held loosely,
fingers curling, uncurling  . .
she is looking down at the small child
skipping along besides her . .
his face turning as he looks at the things
around him . .
The woman is speaking so softly,
as to be indiscernible to the child . .
"I remember when you weren't . . . but even then I knew you . .
you were an angel in my dreams . . .
you were the rose leaning over my deck, watching me . . .
you were the laughter in the air
when the geese would gather . . .
you were the sound of the wind chimes . .
as a tender breeze stroked their dusty sides . .
you were the moonlight trapped on the ocean . . .
rolling with its tempers .  .
you were the song in my heart . .
about to fly . .. .

Part III


the students are lining up obediently
as the teacher directs them . . .
her arm pointed forward . . . she narrows her eyes . .
fluttering her other hand until the children are in
a very straight line . ..
they smile with anticipation . .
She advises in a firm but warm voice,
"Stay in a straight line .. .. very straight."
She looks at them sternly . ..  with a glint in her eye .. .
she sees their suppressed laughter . . . . 
and she is prepared for the ritual,
She turns her back to them and guides them down
the empty hallways . . .
the children behind her silently,
begin to dance about . . .
weaving in and out . .  hopping, skipping . .
arms waving wildly . ..  hair flying,

and with utter silence, they all participate
in this impulsive choreography  . . .
they dance to their inner song . . ..
each one knows where a foot is placed,
and that all is safe . . . as the floor will not collapse

neither will the ceiling fall upon their heads. . .

She turns suddenly and they all freeze . . .
her face attempts to look sternly
at these small characters . .. their faces red,

their chests rising and falling quickly
their eyes glow and
her heart melts
with love at their silliness . .  her eyes glitter
with an un-shed tear . .
arm out, she again lines them up
and again advises . .. 
"Walk in a straight line . . . " but these
are children who dance outside the lines

they are the ones who beat the drums
and dance around the fire
beneath a dark and evil sky . . .
these are the images of her heart .. ..
and the face of the earth . ..
reflections of a dream and
she recognizes in each and every one of them

a piece of herself . . . and she knows that she has taught 
them well . . .





Hidden Songs
by Noise Dream

 



No review . . . Just Enjoy!

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Stardust






Silver Man . . . living statue .. .. downtown Portland

Without Words there is Love . . .



Pages of Life by Livio Amato




Poem by me:

Without Words there is Love

There is immediacy in this music
as it draws me through the needle's eye . .
and all things become focused . . .
yet dreamily misty
like a long ago lullaby . . .

I am sensitive to those green leaves
as they tremble beneath the fingers
of rain outside my window . ..
my gaze looks through like an arrow
as I search for my memories . . .
like a carpet of photographs . . .
some covered in tears . . .
they are spread before me as far as the gray horizon . . .

My angels are flown . . .
and I am alone . .. yet the musician has given me
the gift of his heart . . .
and so there are two . ..
beating in a rhythm . . sublime . .
spiritual . . wordless . .

I am melancholic and yet content
as I relax and rest in this music . . .
like a magical hammock it takes me aloft . .
I am afloat in this mysterious sea of eternity . . .
oh . . .
what this music does to me . . .

Monday, June 13, 2011

A Dream of You and I . ..

. . . and we would take long walks on the beach together
walking in the sand . . . 
holding hands
maybe kissing . . . oh yes . . . kissing . . .
the foam flying at our feet 
like mis-formed birds,
white as snow . . . building up
across the shiny sands . ..  ..
flat sands where the salty waters were left behind,
reflecting the sky
 . . . a barrier to the racing waves,
running and clopping like a herd
of horses down a long cobbled road,
flying at you,
towering over you until they tumble down .  . ..
shushing and swishing like hissing
snakes over the shiny sands
until they touch your toes . .. 
gently kissing those sweet appendages
and then retreating beneath the incoming racers
  . . .  those wild waves
 . . . calmed and happy
 . . . . content to have reached you . . .
and the waters around the world
will whisper of the wonder of you . . .


Jami Sieber . . .
One of my favorite artists on the Internet . . . is NOT on Jamendo, but you can find her on her own site (Jami Sieber.com) and on Magnatune.com  .
Her music is graceful and creative and such a pleasure to listen to, that I find it difficult to stop once I have started .. ..  I was listening to her this morning and relishing in the high quality of the music and the power behind these perfect compositions using the cello, flutes, drums and other instruments including her voice . . .  Here is one album . . . not necessarily one of my favorites because I love all her songs equally . . . I hope you find her music as enjoyable as I do . . . but if you don't  . . . its ok . . . because we all have different tastes . . .



                         


    Lush Mechanique by Jami Sieber
 








(ending comment regarding bullying on Jamendo was removed June 16, 2011 )

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Shades of Scarlet . . .


My pencil is but a mere stub
                                          of what it once was
                                                                        in its glory days .. ..
I carry it everywhere with me
to jot down thoughts,                                              
                           and half baked ideas . . .
these days its nearly flat   . . .               
and without a sharp point
                                         it cannot draw the fine details
of stamens in the cup of the flower. . .                       
                                          nor the passion of the bee
who, covered in pollen,
and golden, like the precious daughter                                           
of Midas . . .
                                     a child who seemed to exist,
merely to give a lesson                             
                              on the powers of love
and the subliminal values
of existence  . . .                                            
..... my pencil, again,
intrepid yet inanimate . . .
                                                a slight pressure and. . .
she scrawls . . .
                the latest nonsense from                                                            
            my flickering brain. . .
thoughts and feelings                                       
that slide down below
                                               the surface before I am ready
 to capture their essence                                          
with a touch of revelation and insight . ...                              
                                        like a torch in the painted caves,
revealing the forms of                               
visions and dreams . . .
                                       if I walk down those sloping pathways,
deeper into the hot bowels                                                     
of the earth . . .
                                          past the sleeping dragons,
I expect I will meet myself                                              
retreating from my old dreams . . .
                                              and my demons;
you see . . .
my life never follows the
                                      well lit road
nor the easy path . . .                      
                      I dig my own way
over the rough stuff 
and I find myself                                               
in the arenas of other gods . . 
                                                those I never thought 
to meet. . .
and thus I am never truly prepared                                                     
for my future . . .
                                     so I watch the hungry earth
swallow up my troubled blood . .                                   
                                   shades of scarlet
in the shadows of                                               
my dreams . . .

Geese in the Rhododendron Gardens, Portland, Oregon


Sunday, June 5, 2011

Today's Favorite . . .


Ethereal Lounge
by Sagnik and Krishnaroop





Review by me:

Sublime . . . effervescent . .  dynamic

just a few words I sensed as I began to listen . . .
and I listened and listened .  . this  album is addicting,
captivating and most beautiful  .. .

Deep in the universe of my soul .  .
I am aware . . . a consciousness
is added and

an opening appears on the lines of space . .
and I travel them to find the golden exotic land of India . . .
and the incense of life . . . ancient life . .
an old wise soul sits in the center
of this life . ..  exalted yet humble . . .
and music emanates from this being . . .
forever traveling through space .  . timeless . . .

timeless . . . the garden emulates the plain of stars . . .
we sense what we wish and find the rest . . .wordless . . .
deep in the heart of the gods . . .

I am moved by the song of man
the grace and tears of the gods . . .
and the weights that hold me down
to the ground
are lifted for a time . . . so I can fly
in the golden light
of creation . . .

here I float on the oceans of solitude . ..
comforted and at rest . . .
the golden orb of the sun
joins the music
as I rise above my woes . .
and perhaps I dance across
the clouds . ..  as they veil
despair and unrest . . .
lifting me ever higher . . .  giving me
the blessed . . .


Peace and Harmony
have settled in my bones
and my heart flutters like the butterfly. . .
a splash of gold
in my space . . 







 

Thursday, June 2, 2011

When Love is Lost . . .

Photographed by a Friend . . .

There was that moment . .
when I realized that I lost you ..
my heart was broken and I choked
on a simple drop of tea . . .
my heart just suddenly broke
and I could not speak . . .
my throat closed like a spigot
on the pipe of dreams .. ..
first there was a flow of joy . .
and then it was just gone .  .
and I knew that I would never
be happy again . . .

Once you told me
that when passion died
a sudden death,
with you,
it was. . .
dead
never to be revived. . .
when it was lost . . . it was gone forever . .

Yet that just feels sad to me . ..
for my passion grows and clings,
like moss on the shady side of trees . . .
seeing nurture in every shadow . ..
I see the rainbows in its mist . .
and the reflections of gold from a sun
reaching around . . . clinging
holding . . . promising . . .
it sings to me in a low melody
running like liquid bubbles . . .
dripping with secret joys and lust . . .
it feels like my beating heart . ..
loving and longing .. ..
wishing .. .. and dreaming . . .

but I should know better . . .
I am not an easy person to love . .
my dreams are often foolish
and selfish . . .

I should remind myself that
I am a grown-up . . .
and wishes are for children . ..
I should remind myself . . .
that I have lost love before . ..
and survived . . .
I should hold my hand over my heart
and feel it slowly beating
. . . . for it hasn't stopped. . .
the blood still drips
like raw tears . .
streaming silent and relentlessly
down my face . . .


but perhaps my emotions are
based my selfishness . . .
for even in the glare of my love,
when I put on my sunglasses,
I can see the shadows of my delusions . . .
for I think you see me as a lost cause . ..
a foolish marionette perhaps . . .
dancing on my strings of desire . . .

I see you
I see what you reach for
and it is what you need . ..  what you desire . .

and there
I should be happy for you. . .
your trails should bring you growth and joy .  .

I don't
I don't bring that to you . . .
and I see that now . .
and I confess that to you with
some trepidation ..

for I know that although
you have fallen out of love with me

you don't realize
it yet . ..


***************************************************************************
what spaces do we have
we hold with a grip of death;
one moment we have hope
and then we lose . ..  it slips through our fingers
like sands of time . . . winged and free
yet wind whipped we are wounded
abraded by the erosion of loss and hurt
and yet the passage
of time dulls the pain  . . .
we brush ourselves off . . 
and quickly forget . ..  clutching at hope
which like tiny fragile bubbles
are so shiny and so compellingly beautiful

You grab that tenuous sprite .. .. Love . ..
and watch
as Love dances away . . .
leaving you more lonely than you
ever were before

***********************************************************
LOS ESTADOS DEL ALMA
by JORGESTRADA





Poem by me:
an ocean grows . . . its torrents
run dark . . . as black as ink . . .
an ink that lines my life . ..
my tears run forth at the bitter knowledge . .
when first it appears . . .
and creeps into the heart . . .
it throws its ice cold darts
to still the flow of joy . . . . .
and yet and yet there is hope . . .
a tiniest gleam . . .  a pearl
once glimpsed . .  in the deepest deep
and the darkest dark . . .
alone and desolate I grasp
but my hands came empty  . . .
and there I see a mirage . . .
a lie I told to me . . . by me  . . .
my dreams flow by like paper
torn beneath the sea
wet . . . so wet with the tears I wept
shredded and falling apart . .
I hold the last rose from
the tree of our life together . .
as the petals fall one by one . .
and what I thought was the dew of love
are the tear drops from what was severed . .

***********************************************************

When Rainbows Fall
by Doemee






Poem by me . . .

I always ran to where it was brightest
seeking love and joy . . .
I knew that there was warmth
and companionship . . .
above the heights of the storm
and away from the deepest sea . .
I looked for love to find me . .
I looked the most for thee . .
and I did so adore you
I loved you most of all . . .
above the heights of the storm
and away from the deepest sea . . .
where ever there were rainbows
the rainbows they must fall
I knew if I could but catch them
and hold them safe in my heart . . .
I could keep one forever . .
and never see it depart . . .
and though the storms must come
and tear my love to shreds . . .
I still seek that rainbow
that dances alone on the ragged cliffs
above the heights of the storm
and way from the deepest sea . .
for "When Rainbows Fall"
Then rainbows they must fall .  . .

**********************************************************

Sentimientos
by Marcos Cala







Poem by me:
There is an end to everything
                                              to everything we must say goodbye
there is a heartache in everyone                                          
                                                painful and bewildering
a lonely song . . . it sings its melody                       
to those who feel
to those who hurt . . .
                                                    to those who have memories . ..
there is peace beneath that wind tossed sea                                
                                          but I haven't yet dived down that deep .. .
I still battle those torrential waves                    
                                 at the surface of pain and misery . . .
and yet I know at the bottom                                                
                   I will remember the joy
                                                          of the time we had together . . .
and this terrible pain will become                               
a faded and misty memory
                                           sweetly dark . . .  a distant melody

******************************************************************

A Quiet Light
by Somewhere off Jazz Street






Poem by me:

And here I am
alone again . . .
the atmosphere so close and dark
no moon
no stars
no heart beats near
the nights are long
so lonely . . .
so very hard to bear . . .
They echo with the sound
of your voice . .
a ghostly refrain to my ears . . .
the memory of your song
touches the tenderness
of my lips . . .
a glimmer for a moment . .
ragged are my tears,
they flow those waves of saltiness
down the curve
of my still cheeks
raw is my aching heart
despairing are my needs . . .
I am but a walking shell. . .
when I move
my bones crumble . . . gray and bleached . . .
thus they scatter to the winds
along the drifting sands . . .
alone I lie . . .
so cold
before the sun will rise . . .

***********************************************************





I am not done here . ..  
for I am not done exploring
that deep dark and lonely cave . ..
where resides
the pain of losing love . .. 
of knowing when. . .
exactly when 
it departed from that object
that is loved by me  . .. 
yet in seeking to cling
I just postpone the pain . . .

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

A Moment in the Rain . . . I Have Dreams . . .



I wander . .  beneath my big umbrella
as I walk. . .  I watch the raindrops
paint the ground with watercolor haste. . .
and dance on the ponds as I pass . .
like dedicated fairies . .

graceful and ephemeral . . 

I wonder at this shining beauty . . .
and pause to gather through my senses
the riches of this fugitive moment,
as it flows on the ends of the drops

as they seem to
magnify the promises
of life . .  and for a space of time, as I walk,
I feel as if I had stepped into heaven . . .
is it reality . . .

I wonder, looking at the pink petals
scattered like memories on the watery ground . ..
and I realize that life is short. . .
and I must gather all the glory that I can,
for I know nothing about the world that may come . .
in some ways I envy those who are so sure of tomorrow and
eternity .  ..
I expect to be surprised for I know nothing of such . . .
but I see the hand of a creator in all the beauty that
grows from the mud . . . 

an endless kaleidoscope. . .
it seems that a superior imagination created this . . .
I listen to a bird of many voices embellish the air
with the music of his love . . .
and wonder about those who cannot wander in this glory
but must race about gathering the things they fear they will lose . . .
their eyes on the objects that end up as clutter . . .
and grasping their hands around their dreams
they lose the prize .  .

but as for me I long to smell the honeysuckle
in the early morning. . .
and hear the song of the sparrow
as she sings to the rising sun . . .


*****************************************************************


tender are the shoots that grow
so early in the Spring
the gentle yellows
and delicate violets
the evangelical greens
a mist that grows on
old mossy woods
a youth that speaks
of expectations and dreams
I am gullible
with effervescent joy
believing in eternal youth
I look into those baby blue skies
foreseeing an Eden
pregnant with eternity
here at the end of my road
I have never grasped
the transitory . . . or
the ephemeral circle
of glory
but I sense
the breezes of today that pass
into the thunderstorm
of tomorrow
*****************************************************************
One of my favorite artists on Jamendo is Livio Amato . . . 
his music never fails to move me or guide me gently
into the dreams of my heart . . . dreams I never knew I had
.. .. .. so here I present his widget of albums . . . enjoy
and savor the essence of Heavenly music . . .


My review for Perceptions:

First of all . . . Welcome back Livio . . . I missed you here.

Regarding the album . .. WOW!
The sound quality is extraordinarily impressive.
The listener must use headphones and then be ready for vivid surround sound
The album cover is tastefully beautiful . . .

The music is divine . . . this music is the kind
that takes me into those places
of my mind . . my heart . . my soul . . .
where I wander among my dear memories
as if through a garden of flowers . . .
where the kisses of my loved ones,
gone so long ago, . .
gently brush my cheeks
like the glancing touch of a butterfly
as she seeks her rest at twilight . .
I remember, I remember the dreams
of love and tenderness . . of passion
and glory . . . I remember life . . as
it passed by, bearing away my yesterdays . . .
so I capture my memories in crystal vases
carrying into my inner abode that vivid garden . . .
and there they sit like flames of fire . .
the flowers of my life . . .
until they slowly wilt . . .

 
Review for "The gate of evermore"

Livio Amato has always been so popular on Jamendo . . . and why?
Because his music explores the depths of the human heart and soul .. .
it tenderly expresses deep love, sorrow and joy . . .
the emotions that predominate when we live . . . as we live . . .
I don't know about the dead . . .
perhaps even they are moved when his music wings through the
air waves and reaches whatever spiritual or angelic ears are listening . . .

But I know how I feel when I listen to his music and I am always moved . . ..
always . . . no matter how many times I listen .. .
through his music I feel so very much alive
and I feel so connected to the rest of humanity in this world . . .

I feel . ..
hope and love and passion . . .
I hear compassion, peace . . . and joy . . .
these are the things that make my heart throb . .
an emotion so deep that it has no words . . .
and I sense a hunger to be encompassed by these melodies .. .
to be lifted . . to fly with the angel song that
resonates in them . . .

****************************************