Friday, April 29, 2011

the words i never said . . .

Wednesday's Dog



the words i never said
    began with "you,"
there were squiggles
running down the sides of your
                 thoughts,
beaming lights
     like neon cords
               left dangling . . .
an array of brilliance
         that only intimidated me. . .

what am i to you,
a mere troll
hidden from your sight . . .
           beyond the darkness
of my cave beneath the bridge. . .
you are blinded by your
curtain of shining glory. . .
and
i feared that moment
         that you would see me. . .
my darkness
       casting a shadow
on you

my truth a sharp frozen shard . . .
          biting you deeply,
and you flinch
     beneath the burden of me . . .

the words i never said
       began with "you" . . .

you are the light of my life . . .
you cast your beams
into the shadows of my self
you melt my frozen core . . .

and then leave me in the dust
of my demise
wanting more .  .  .


***********************************************************************************
This next poem was not written by me . . . but I found it in "The New Yorker" magazine for April 11, 2011 . . . by Carl Dennis. I really liked this one because of its plain and straightforward meaning . . .  
New Year's Eve

However busy you are, you should still reserve
One evening a year for thinking about your double,
The man who took the curve on Conway Road
Too fast, given the icy patches that night,
But no faster than you did; the man whose car
When it slid through the shoulder
Happened to strike a girl walking alone
From a neighbor's party to her parents' farm,
While your car struck nothing more notable
Than a snowbank.

One evening for recalling how soon you transformed
Your accident into a comic tale
Told first at a body shop, for comparing
That hour of pleasure with his hour of pain
At the house of the stricken parents, and his many
Long afternoons at the Lutheran graveyard.

If nobody blames you for assuming your luck
Has something to do with your character,
Don't blame him for assuming that his misfortune
Is somehow deserved, tht justice would be undone
If his extra grief was balanced later
By a portion of extra joy.

Lucky you, whose personal faith has widened
To include an angel assigned to protect you
From the usual outcome of heedless moments.
But this evening consider the angel he lives with,
The stern enforcer who drives the sinners
Out of the Garden with a flaming sword
And locks the gate.

                                         - Carl Dennis 

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Rescue Me . . . Part I

House Sparrow, somewhere in Portland

One summer, my two cats and their friends, the neighborhood felines, decided to harass a family of robins who had taken residence high up in one of my persimmon trees.  My large orange tabby, Bear, the main instigator and leader of the gang of cats, was a birder . . . and his main commission in life was to catch and destroy birds. He had no idea of what to do with a mouse. I saw him with mice several times .. .  he would lick them fondly until they were nice and tidy and he would pat them gently with his paws and then let them go.


This particular hot and dry summer, Bear closely watched the comings and goings of the parent robins as they flew back and forth with groceries and other necessities for their growing family. These parent robins were well aware of the activities of the cats and they kept a sharp eye on those ruffians; and often would shriek and scold as robins do in vain hope of discouraging any intrusions. These poor birds were so stressed with the five or six cats milling around at the foot of the tree. But the trees were very tall and dark with foliage and seemed safe for the most part.


At the peak of this adventure, I was baking cookies and keeping an eye on the cats. There was quite a ruckus going on and I would run out from the kitchen and yell at the cats and chase them off. The robins were often on the wires near the tree shrieking in high pitched voices. Something was going on and my assumption is that the cats had narrowed in on where the nest was hidden in the tree and the birds knew it. . . 


At one point I raced outside to see one of the birds flapping its wings against the ground and suddenly the cats pounced and commenced tearing at the unfortunate creature. I turned the hose on the furry murderers and yelled at them but the damage was done. The mother had sacrificed herself to appease the army of cats. My cookies were burning so I ran back inside and forgot about the incident . . . life goes on.


Later that evening I walked outside and found the shreds of the mother robin. I took her remains for disposal and watched the father taking care of his babies on his own. . . I decided to look for the rest of the mother in the bushes at the foot of the tree and there I found a dead looking chick. When I picked him up though, he came to life and began to shriek . . . his body was ice cold and his pin feathers were shivering and rattling . . . and all his little vermin ran off onto my hands .. . 

of course I had to rescue him . . . and thus I became a mother robin . . . 

Part II to be continued . . . .


************************************************************************************
A Forest Lane
Music by Nelson Jenstad



a peaceful walk
on a forest lane . ..
the dusty city left behind . . for a moment ...
the chatter of worries and sorrows
drop away like tattered and worn
garments that no longer are needed . .
and though we are naked and vulnerable
against the wiles of the world
we find a retreat in the trees .. .
we breath the freshened air . .. cool and moist
and feel the shadows of the trees
cover us like insulation against the storms
we must face . . . for a moment's  reprieve . .
this sheltered sanctuary is our strength
and our calm . . . and our grace for the future . . .

The beautiful piano and instrumental music of this album is as fulfilling as the true
nature of a wooded walk . . . 

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






Wednesday, April 27, 2011

When Her Head Hit the Pavement . . .


What is important to you is
        important to me . . .
built on yesterday's
  branches each
growth becoming the strength of the next
and the whole held up through
a central core

beauty meaning less

then strength
strength less than integrity
integrity less then existence . . 
a holistic approach
to the levels of 
living produces
a direct answer 
to the meaning


Silver shots from the
sides of his hub caps and
his speeding car rolls over
a mere bump in the road


what it meant to him
was little


but laughter grew


still 


and a warm 
flesh grew cold
and the moments
of a future 
became as nothing

and your silky hair twisted in the wind



before they laid that
yellow
blanket 
on you
as you lay there
on the cold gritty sidewalk . . .


and there was blood
     on the ground
there was blood
on the ground
where your
fragile
head rested
in the end


on the gray


the cold gray. . .

stained with your blood . ..


blood shaped
like a bird


like a heart
glistening with your blood


and your face
peeled away


one moment smiling
then flying
one minuscule fraction of an inch
above the ground


you flew
you lived


and then you were gone 


>>>>"When Her Head Hit the Pavement" is a poem about my sister's death.  I often think about that fraction of a moment after she was hit by the drunk driver . . . She had been sitting on her motorcycle so she was alive as she went airborne . . . and fractions of a second before she hit that pavement . ..  and then she was gone . ..  its that second that holds me . ..  her last moments on this earth . . . the last thing she saw . . .and then she was gone . . .<<<<<

Let me make this clear . .. My sister and I were very close. In many ways I was like a mother to her . . . she had a key to my house and not a day went by that she didn't come by to eat dinner, or we would talk on the phone. Of course I have a million happy moments to remember about her. but . . .

The last time I saw her, she was riding up the street on her motorcycle . . . without her helmet . . . her fine hair blowing in the breeze. . . I was planning on calling her to nag her to keep her helmet on when riding. . . I missed that chance because I was busy with life. . .  and it was my first thought when I realized she had been hit . . . that I should have called her. 

I fully understand that I am not responsible for her death. But things may have been different . . . I don't know . . . But I am not belittling my sister's life or my experiences with her . . . I am expressing my feelings about that split second between life and death . . . because in my mind it is a profound moment and makes me wonder what my moment will be . . .   

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




"My heart"
the beating heart . . .
emotional and yet
so vital . . . so beautiful. . .
the essence of you
the warmth of you . . the fires you burn . .
my hand lays over your ribcage
and I feel a small bird fluttering there . .
you have my heart . . .
I have yours. . . in love . ..
and together we rise up as one
with the strength of their wings . ..
bound together . . .
at peace together . . .
we fly . .
my heart, your heart . . .
until the day we die
my heart, your heart . .
stilled forever . .

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

Sometimes I reach out and touch the chests of the small children who are in too much of a hurry and I feel their beating hearts . . . and it feels so fragile and precious . ..  all our hearts like little birds . . . beating their wings . . . but they only have a portion of time to beat . . . and so . . .

Music - music - music


***********************************************************
only this . . .
shimmering sound . . .
deep and dynamic
lucid and profound . . .
the sound of life . . .
where ever I am . ..
at home on my planet
all I need is here . . . holding me
with the power of sound to fill my memories
and the knowledge that as for now . . .
this moment . . .
is all I need . . .

This beautiful album of
newage/ambient environmental sounds;
a droning music that comes to the listener
gliding in on the silent wing spread of a single bird
calming and clear
an inner vision of what we love . . .

Only this . ..






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

I CRIED WHEN IT WAS OVER 
. . .Stunning sound sensation . .. .
beautifully shocking . . .
like echoes . . . echoes of all music
music from the stars . . . beyond the stars . ..
Like traveling to another planet . . experiencing the whole . . .
almost orgasmically so . . . a soul defying trip . . .
the music captured from beyond humanity's past . . .
a tribal fusing with jazz, with human voice . . . a melting of music . . melting . . .
earth shattering
heart stilling
awe inspiring
an unbelievable auditory experience . . .
like being in an overgrown garden on a brilliant day . . .
where all the senses are assaulted . . . . . .
a mellifluous cacophony .. . ..
my vision was blasted, where there were overwhelming images with so much to take in . . . too much . . . just beyond my ability to comprehend . . .
the tactile sensations . . . grasping at brittle nerves . .
I felt immersed in new experiences . .. drowning . . . reaching out blindly to find myself . . . to save myself . . . Stunned . . .
as if a new sense had opened up of which I had just become vividly aware
. . . this gift grasped at me . . . whirled me around . . . shoved me
through portals of experience . . . stretching the limits of where I can go . ..
what I can absorb . . . and yet it all flowed and melded like liquid silver . . . rivulets of shiny substance . . . reflecting the hallucinations of my mind . .. I flowed and stretched . . . atom by atom . . . through the black hole of this perception . . .

Extraordinary sound sensations . . . to be experienced and luxuriated in . . . excellent! Beyond excellent . . .

I cried when it was over . . . . and then I listened again . . .
I am surrendered . . .





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

Tranquility . . .

Flowing calmingly
like a field of
amber grasses beneath
a playful wind . ..
chillingly . . .
like the distant reaches of space
where a cold star beckons. . .
peacefully . . .
like a river
'neath Autumn's
red sunset . . .
flowing . . .
wrapping around
the listener with tranquility
and quiet . . .




**********************************************************
Dreams are given freedom to fly
by music such as this. . .
and inspiration comes alive. . .
when one heart touches another . . .
giving permission to dream. . .
and filled with the sublime substance
of music . . . beautiful music . . .
lifted and loved and touched . . .
where a piano's chime . . . is unique
like a robin's song . .
it has the spirit and capacity to rise above
all the other instruments
with its joyfulness and loving, heartfelt song . . .
it does that for me . ..
it sets me free
it gives me the wings to fly . . . ever higher and
ever high . . .

that is this song . . .

thank you!




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

Tuesday, April 26, 2011







First sounds I heard . . from this album . .. gave me chills . . .
Very intense emotions involved in this noise and music combined .. . to give strong poetic impressions . . . I like it . . its dark and expresses my recent moods .. . let me see:

ah . . . the slog through life . .. the burdened
are not relieved . .. . are not reprieved .. ..
is there hope? there is no hope!
the crevasses along their road . .. bend
and course across the rough way . . .
halting their progress . . and it is so hard
to find the way . . . or escape. . .
for held down by their burdens
and trapped in a maze of fiction . . they find
no freedom . . .
even the rising of the sun brings
but pain . . . hot and drying
as in the salt pans of a desert . . so dry
so desperate to suck the fluids from your bones . . .
so despairing ... .... so lost . .
so alone . . .

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

Who Knew ?



Who knew that my yesterdays
would become as seared as old pages
in a book. . .
my dreams faded;
memories covered over by
the growing steam on the mirror
of my days . . . 


a copper leaf falls
into a silver bowl
falling silent,
a hedge of moss
blankets a still tree. . .
you chose to move me with your music,
verbose and yet
quiet like that moment when
the sunset flashes emerald. . .
my heart lifts in its ribcage
like a bird fluttering against
silver bars. . .
you release me from my sorrows
and yet I dive in again. . .
your image grows in the frame of my mind,
a rose blooms
in the dark forest
glowing like a pregnant moon. . .
you gave me the heights
and the depths
You gave me time
you gave me  . . myself . . .


a small squirrel stands his ground. . .
the sun slants sideways
turning wet surfaces into shimmering gold,
a wood smoke flows into my eyes
and as the tears come
I see
a snowbird flying up from
a scattering of white petals
sprinkled over
my pathway

The music carried me as I walked
and the scent of musky memories
traveled through my veins . . .

there they mingle
and become 
one . . .
**********************************************************************************


Some lovely ambient music . . . to carry you on your travels . . . perhaps into space where you can float and have pleasant dreams . . . calming and introspective . . . Lovely!


Monday, April 25, 2011

Allison Crowe - singer - musician, extraordinaire .. ..


I dreamed I had:

Someone to love me . . . .
hold my hand and call my name
someone to recognize me . . .
see my shadow and know my walk . . .
someone to hear my dream . . .
and share the knowledge of my understanding . . .

someone  . . . like you . . .

**********************************************************************
a singer who can project her heart
and become an intimate friend . .
through the power of her voice . ..
and the words of her song

Fully dream the dream as you listen
and believe that there is something
there that connects us . .. all through
the music . .. 







Allison Crowe, one of the most successful musicians on Jamendo, is an extraordinary singer. Her voice resonates across the long convoluted trails of the Ethernet . . .  Her lyrics have powerful messages of thoughtfulness and beauty . . . An inner strength and beauty shines forth from her vocal chords and her melodies resound with talent and grace.  All her music is professional sounding and carefully recorded. 

Not one of her songs lacks relevance nor do they lack the power to give great entertainment value and pure enjoyment. I find myself addicted to the sound of her voice and with a strong desire to listen forever through the day and the night . . . pure enjoyment of these powerful sweet, and tender songs.

Link to the website of Allison Crowe:
http://www.allisoncrowe.com/index.html

I Hear Peace . . .



Peace flies in through the soul. .
and is bled through the veins of the heart .. ..
freely given as love . . .
a vivid splash of crimson . . .
a scent of copper . .
Peace is
shining like the rays of the sun. . .
Peace is a dream
that calms the ancient wounds . . .
it comes in the tiny drops of dew
that reflect the spectrum of the sun . .
a gift . .
it comes in a melody that soothes
the weary soul . .
it comes on the wings of a snow white dove . .
it comes every moment of every day . .
Peace comes . .
through the music I hear. . .
through the quiet cry of a violin so intimate
to the ear . . . of the musician . .
the heartbeat of the drum . . . describing
a quickening living beat. . .
the gentle touch of fingers stroking
the warm keys of a piano . . .
it comes
like the sweet burning smell
of incense . . .
rising up to the heavens above . . .
tenderly it comes to us
peace
on the wings of mercy . . .

I hear peace
in the music. . .


don't you?




  





each strum of a string
each thump of the bass
each quiet echo
reminds me that I am here
and so are you . . .
we share the same air . . .
and feel the same tides
we know the same sorrows . . . . . 
as we walk through this life
we live in the same house
a home made of stardust
we hold the same memories
of life and death
and we dream the dream
of peace on earth . . .
for our babies
and all that follows . . . 

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

 

Loneliness . . .




Not having, is a punishment for wanting,
and wanting you . . .

Your eyelashes flutter
against your cheeks
like the little birds in
the sand pit . . .
You watch them all the time
You know . ..  those little dusty grey
birds with their hearts on their shoulders . .
They get lice in the summer
and those dust baths always
feel so good . . . but how would I know?

I only know this . . .
that even if I were in a crowd
of adoring fans . . .
thousands . .
no  . . . let's say millions . .
all gazing up at me
with rapturous eyes . . .
hands raised in esteem and love
I will feel like the loneliest soul in
the world

but for you . . .
If we need but
one to love us

Then why do we
keep seeking more
fame,
more love . .
more acceptance,

it is like a deep
     hungry, gnawing
in us .  .  do we all feel this way?

Or is it just me?

Look at me my love . .
Open your eyes . .
Ah - I see a glint
of your hazel eyes
and a slow smile . .

I see my look reflected there . ..
and I know
I am not alone


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



I don't know where this guy gets all the energy to produce so much music . . . but I always enjoy this lounge type jazzy music and the vocals are always very good quality.  Not one song has ever missed the mark with me . . . and often I find some interesting sounds to perk up my listening pleasure . . . He also has tons of other stuff under different artist names and I haven't been able to make a correct count of all his albums . . . Excellent listening . . . thank you for sharing your music!

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

Saturday, April 23, 2011

I am Wolfsong.thePoet

Downtown Portland

I am Wolfsong.thePoet on Jamendo . . . http://www.jamendo.com/en/user/Wolfsong.thePoet

I like to write . . . especially poetry. . . I think in song . . . I dream in flavors . . . I recognize me in you . ..  and you in me . . . I hear your melody. . .  I see your beauty . . . I share your hope . . . I create your dreams . . . I will dance with you through tomorrow . . . and carry you deeply in my heart . . . I love you . . .

Forever yours
by Depneim 





I look into the mirror of your eyes . . .
and I see the blazing light of faith,
calm and remarkable
in the hope that it projects
as you put your heart
on the winds of chance
and believe in the best . . .
and believe in love . . .
and believe that I have the same
for you . . . love on the wing
flying straight into your eyes . . .

The music offers imagery
and beauty and love . . .
it offers color . . . and joy
and peace . . . it offers the heights
and the depths
and it walks besides me
where ever I go
and where ever I end . . .

********************************************************** 
 Outside in some place
by David Palmero







Standing for the light . .
a warrior rests . .
in the strength of good
and all of the blessed . .

belief that in the end
good will prevail
the dark will retreat
with its heavy dark veil . . .
*********************************

Peaceful music . . . dreamy and uplifting . . .
a gorgeous blessing in the moment
as I listen . . .

I am humbled by this sound . . 
as it whirls through my heart
a music so deeply calming
so very profound . . 



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

Un Nouveau Monde
by Anckorage 



*

surreal, eerie . .  other-worldly . ..
beauty
sublime . ..  heavenly . .
the tears begin to fall . .. I want to be in that place
the music takes me there . . .
a cold and distant land . . .
so tender, so treasured . . .
the sighing of the angels . . . resound through the atmosphere
and only the musician can hear this
and model it . ..
I am moved . . .  I am moved so far away
I ache as I listen to this music . . .
my bones vibrate as I listen
my heart echoes . .  the music
I cannot but treasure this . . . like a gem . . .
the rarest of the rare . .  a human face . . .
and angel's gaze .  . . the song of the moon . .
the tender refrain of the stars . . .
immersed in the music .  . . I float for hours .  .  .
removed from my heart ache . . . removed from my pain . . .

Stunning . . .

Thursday, April 21, 2011

i am nothing . . .





Review
For
Diamond Dusts (part 1)
by Azereus:

Don't run away . . . wait just a moment
stop and feel the music
run over your skin .  .  . with light steps
like a butterfly .  . tasting the salt of your flesh
then fly with the wings
that you have as you listen .. . .
fly and don't stop . . .
until you tire
which is never





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

i am nothing
                            not even a breeze . .
or the clinking of rocks
at the bottom of the ocean                           
 i am nothing
not even a scratch                 
            or the trail of a star
that dies in the black sky                                      
i am nothing
                      not even a wish
or a tufted seed flying away                  
                          on the breath of a child
i am nothing
                                        not even a spark
or a cloud chasing                    
                            an angry sun . .
i am nothing
                                  not even a tear
or a floating reflection                      
on the back of clear waters
i am nothing
                                     not even a wisp . . .
or a dream on the edge
                                           of a long winter's night . . .

i am nothing
in the morning
not a song
not a flower
nothing in the evening
not a feather
not a bird 

i am nothing
and
in my dreams
i am nothing more

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

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Sanctity of Hope







The sun is shining on
      the western hills,
and after a long wet Spring
it is a welcome reprieve. . .
I dig in my garden
  aimlessly - no real goal -
and find the flotsam and jetsam
of years gone by. . .

caked in dirt and rusting away, 
each object
a testament to a life passing by .. ..
a safety pin, a quarter,
and a small green plastic soldier,
   kneeling hopefully with
his bent rifle,
   the barrel pointing back at him. . .
I remember a small boy
with his toy soldiers lined up. . .
a sort of mental war in his mind,
bizarre sounds emanating
from his mouth. . .
the drone of a lazy fly

in the hot August sun . .

Life like a game;
we lay out the pieces,
anticipating the end. . .
but the sun is shining
    in our eyes
and the glitter, like gold,
    dazes us with desire,
we are blinded by our needs . . .

which distorts the map,
    and after each bend in the road .. . 
we look back,
but the way was lost . . .
long ago . .. 
              and we must turn and face
the approaching end . . .
**********************************************************



Refuge
by Giac & Juan




   

The music makes me smile .. .. 
and fills my heart with sentimental memories
........dreams to think about, people to love . . .
I remember sunshine . ..  and carnivals . . . cotton candy and children's  laughter . . . 
and I remember you . . . 
I remember all the good things . . . the pictures bring to mind . . . I remember singing and I remember crying . . . I remember dancing, swimming in the lake under the moon, and 
I remember you. . . 
I remember passion, I remember hope . . . 
dreams of the future, past and now . . . . . .
the colors of the rainbow . .. all that joy can bring. . . 
scattered memories in the music of my mind . . . bringing back the taste of yesterday and . . . .
I remember you . . .
The music is my sanctuary . . . my place to be alone .  . to hold close all my dreams and thoughts . . .  recalling a place called home . . . 
where  are these things now . . . but in my memories saved deep . . . I cherish  all that's in my heart to keep 
but most of all
I treasure
remembering you . . .

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

Fukushima--The Song--with Ron and JoJo on Vox by Wiese



Sunday, April 17, 2011

Music from Heavenly Realms


Music by Frank Harper "I"

Album removed . . . no longer exists . . .



Poem and review by me:

I hear melancholy memories 
with feelings I still cannot deny
the words I long ago left unsaid . .
the precious days that are slipping by

teardrops mingle into that ocean
with those of others fallen before
yesterdays dreams are old and faded
quiet voices from beyond that door . .

feelings of sadness deeply hurting
revealing my emptied heart aching so . . .

where secrets of our heavenly angels
show that there is room for love to grow . . .

****************************************
beautiful music Frank
you inspire me . . . and make me feel
through your melodies
and your heartfelt graces
like angelic singing . ..
thank you for sharing your music . . .



Saturday, April 16, 2011

Have You . . .

Along the Old Columbia Highway


Have you ever looked up
at the stars at night
and tried to identify a few
as a home to escape to
when things get rough?
Have you then realized
that our planet is so
fragile and tender
impermanent
and yet so beautiful a rare
thing? a gem?
Have you
then realized that the stewards
of such a planet
have neglected the basics
instead choosing to release
the hounds of hell
on the weary and the vulnerable
devouring all that stands
in the way of
greed and selfishness
Have you then looked
inward at your
personal cosmos and
realized
that you are also a
universe compacted into
a human body
Have you then
looked outward at
other souls, like you
lost in the
maze of ill luck
being born on a
garbage heap
Have you then seen
that such glorious universes
have need to be
released to shine
thus making a heaven
richer with flame
Have you . . .
then wondered what the hell
you can do about it . . . yet
Have you . . . 
tried . . .
at least given a smile?
Have you . . .


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

Photos taken along the
Old Columbia Gorge Highway
and at Multnomah Falls

Spring 2011


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




Gorilles des montagnes
by: Philippe Mangold

My review:

Some day all god's creatures will run free .. ..
will there ever be enough world for all of us?
me and thee?

He looks up at the night sky . . .
the stars reflected in his luminous eyes . ..
and he ponders his fate . .
his world is narrowing in on him
and his family . . .
what is the future of this earth . . .
when humans can't even seem to care . . .
for themselves . .. ?

or each other?
or this beautiful blue planet
serene in the heavens
perfectly placed . .. perfectly created . . .
yet
in the hands of human-kind,
withering and dying . . .
***********

This African themed music . . .
excellently and exquisitely and creatively and emotionally and artistically,
composed . . . .
from the surreal to the sublime . .
from earthy, tribal percussion to
celestial strings . . .
from soul rending piano . . . to beautiful guitar,
each theme a heart toucher, and
so very exquisite . . .

I don't know why . . . but I cried most of the way through this album . . .
was there magic in the music?



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Top of Multnomah Falls

Here is a beautiful poem written by a friend of mine from FaceBook - I think it would make a gorgeous song :

Manolo Castillo Martínez

    "I send you, one my lyric song. I hope you like it."
    

(Saturday 9 of October 2010)



"Sparkles of Light"

    Loved light sparkles that enter by my window

    Loved sparkles of the Sun, they illuminate my quarter

    Illuminate my soul

    About strange and hard times, never I thought

    Those sparkles of light, are hope, reconciliation and peace

    Loved light sparkles

    They vivify my soul and spirit, in a World that used to know

    Light throughout, sparkles of light, are welcome

    To me quarter, my life.

    Infinite sparkles of light throughout will have to be

    Always entering by some place

    Loved light sparkles

    From the distant Sun, loved light sparkles

    Be welcome

    Divine light, vivifies my soul and spirit

    Between the trees I see you arrive

    Divine light, from the mother nature

    From any place

    Loved light sparkles

    Be in my quarter by always




    With Love

    Manolo !!! 
 

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Happiness is a Bright Light . . .

Sunset over the Western Hills





This music is complete with the fullness of light . . .
and what is light but the absence of darkness . ..
except . ..  just for a few shadows lingering there . . .
for they exist . ..
trembling with fear .  .
beneath  the bright and
unrepentant  joyousness of it all . . .

in this life the light shines . . .
for just
a moment . . . .but a moment . . .
streaming magic through the darkest night .. ..
sorrow dispersing like feathers on the water . . .

and at the end of this magical dance
when we all go home . . . what will we carry with us
besides the crystal slippers . . . are there memories
burnt into the retinas of our vision?
do our ears ring with the glorious music? 
Is there joy and peace
flowing like a golden river from our hearts?

We dance our way home . . . carefree and happy  . .
and where is the sin in happiness ?
Does the music lift us up? .. . does it give us wings?
does it light the way? . . . heal our hearts?
inspire us through our day?

 . . . ah yes . . .

Though we be so
raw and anguished
still from the pain of life . . .
as we stumble upon
these golden moments . . .

- this glorious music -

we have a magical rarity . ..

treasure the passion
treasure the joy
capture the glowing bubble of light
that floats upward toward the everlasting unknown . . .
hold it close to your heart .. .
 . . . this ephemeral thing . .
blasting through the emptiness of the night . . .
shining into the darkness of your heart . ..
this music has a magic .. .
that makes the smiles shine brighter
and the weary gain strength . .
it glows with an inner light

It has the strength and brightness to
outshine the darkness . . .
lead the way through the thicket of living
and give hope to the despairing . . .

there is peace in that joy . . .that light . . .

for though the end will come. . .
death will follow
and darkness will bloom once again
like a spill of ink
on virgin paper . ..
permanently erasing . . . the life you live
and the light you take for granted . . .

treasure this moment
while it is
for it is
but one passing golden moment
in the stream of time
hold it tightly . . with open hands
for it is with you . . . and it will follow you
like a dream
this beautiful music . . .

********************************************************
Of all the music on Jamendo .. . this music makes me the
happiest . . . perhaps it is a crime . . .  I dispute that :-D
perhaps its not sophisticated enough for many listeners . . .
- such a pity -
because if you open your ears you will hear
- joy -
- peace -
- love -
and there is nothing better than those three things . . .
no matter the equipment
no matter the style . . . .
and, besides,  an occasional dose of happiness
is not a sin  nor is it a crime . ..
*********************************************************



I look for music that inspires me . . .. ........ gives me hope . .......... and dreams . ........... music that gives me vision . . ...... sorrowful . .. . or joyful . . ......................................................... its all part of life . . ............... to inspire each other to continue in our art . . .. to share and be of good cheer . . ......... to add love to the world of art . . ......... no matter the genre of art . . ....... it comes from the heart and soul . . .. . . .. it comes from our beginnings . . . . .. it comes from our ends . . . .. . . it adds to us and enriches us . . .. . .... and gives meanings to our short days . . ... here on this bright blue planet . . .. . . . .................................................................................................I am Barbara Wolfsong (orangeupurple) ...... I am a poet and photographer . . . and I listen to music . .. ....................

*****************************************************************
"Fukushima" by JoJo Wiese . . .He didn't like his voice in the previous version so here is the new one . . .
*****************************************************************
EDIT:  I have removed some items from this post . . . topics which I no longer wish to discuss with anyone . . . 
**********************************************************





Learning new stuff in Gimp . . .  how to make an animation . . .   :-)  - I have ideas . . . so what is new . . . the trouble is trying to find the time to learn new things and implement them ..  ..

Saturday, April 9, 2011

On Being Dead . . .






I slept and dreamed
I was the last one alive
in the land of the dead . .
and the ghostly voices
of others passing my by . . .
grieved over the perfidy of the hand
dealt when they were young. . .
wondering what is life

I slept and dreamed
that I was dead
and there was no comfort yet
my soul unrested and lost
wandering beneath leafless trees
no covering for my head
no moon to reflect
on the naked flesh . . .

I dreamed I walked
on emptied darkened silent streets
the corpses of others
enshrined behind doors
where a cold fire
told them they yet lived . . .
I could feel their dusty bones
crumbling beneath my feet . ..

I dreamed the burning rain
washed over me
touching the steel of my core
melting the bones of
my existence
creating a black hole
in the emptiness of my existence . .

I dreamed I died and laid
alone in a cold stone grave
my bones withered by the scorn
of those who passed me by
reading my stone words
surviving on the fringe
of nothing and nothing more . . .
"what is life . . ."

I awoke from my dream
and laid still in my box . .
deep scent of moldy earth
deep coldness of darkness damp
a nothingness in my vision
the taste of stale dust . . .
on my shriveled tongue . . .
what is life . .. .

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

Odds and Ends

Portland West Hills . . . from an Eastside School


I have been spending so much time on my new avatar on Jamendo . . . listening and writing and enjoying a new chance to write better reviews . . . that I have very little time to write poetry on my blog here .. .. but let me see what I can do for you . .. .  :-D
http://www.jamendo.com/en/user/Wolfsong.thePoet


I have run into a few interesting items on YouTube and Facebook . . .
Like this video I got from Nath:


I could listen to this one for hours . . . perfectly beautiful and healing!

ancient glass

Glass runs down, like a fluid. . .
slowly over time. . .
decades it takes
to find its path
and change the outlook
on the other side . . . where it
creates its own vision . . . ..
and tells a different tale
from a perspective of its own . . .
****************************************************************


Another YouTube item I just happened to stumble on was this interesting combinations of didgeridoo and kaleidoscope . . . a truly hypnotic experience . .. 







The frame of references in our life is like the framing of a photo . . . it is all in the perspective, which adds understanding and insight . .. and that is why each tale told from each living being, in all of existence, holds understanding to the human condition . . . 

and creates the warp and woof . . the tensile strength of the tapestry of life . . . which only God can see . . . 

those who long for a glimpse can occasionally catch a piece of the vision . . . but only through the full integrity of the human spirit . . . rarely . . . and only for a brief time . . 


Once envisioned . . . becomes a part of the soul and remains as a deep understanding of the Truth as a dream that has come and gone . ..  but leaves its essence behind.


This was posted as the meaning of the song:
A Native American translation for this song:
Let us eclipse the the sun and the moon with our spiritual and emotional being,
and let us transcend these physical barriers and negativity which have made us a nation of one.
May the winds of time put into motion this feeling we share with our Mother Earth and this universe till the end of time.
May the creator bestow upon us a grand sense of unity and peace which we will continue to pass on to our people, wherever they reside.

Its good by me . . ..

I LOVE YOU!