Dreaming Music

I love visiting Magnatunes because they always have quality music, and an abundance of genres I adore. There are several membership programs, and I chose the lifelong membership plan because I can download an album whenever I wish and I don't need to worry about whether I have paid or not.

I loved their honesty, also. There was a problem with my subscription and they fixed it for me without wasting time. I do not care for the appearance of their home page, but they are planning on re-designing that . . . at the present time the page is so small and difficult to maneuver through without some prior experience.

Music of Waters by Shira Kammen

Rising and falling … 


the nature of water . . 


soothing and cool 

with the extra 
sparkle of sunlight . .

This album gives so much pleasure


like floating on a peaceful lake . .. 


Celtic strings, 

giant drums 

and delicate fantasy . .  .


taking us into a dreamlike past,


into the mists of distant time . . 


and here we wander with the visions


and dance a jig . . .


or cry with the ballad of lost love


and wide waters . . .  

a longing to fly . ..


a dream of desire . . .
 

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 Mahler's Cat by Softspace

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

What do you hear, little kitty . .  

what do you see?
You have visions that I will never understand
or believe in a dream or a song ..  .
though we crawl through the dew
before the morning's light,
the song of the meadow
vibrates beneath our feet

and

through the mist a bird glides home

and our hearts follow

where echoes roost on mossy branches

sturdy with life . . .yet flitting away
before the ready grasp

Experimental soundscape in nature, this music has a tendency to capture the imagination in many guises; while giving thrills and chills and sufficient visions, and artificially stimulating the senses giving the impression of mysterious experiences . . these pieces were rich in varied texture and color while creating a perfect inner theater . . Fascinating!

and a little insane. . .

Definitely wear headphones with this album and be ready to be mesmerized!

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After Jamendo

Lincoln City, Oregon

So many of us are distressed about the loss of the "old Jamendo" and its friendly playgrounds, viable community, and easy to follow layout.

For me, the biggest loss is the review feature. I made so many friends through the reviews and the dialogue in the forums and elsewhere. It's a huge loss but these issues will need to be covered elsewhere and in other ways . . .

So, I have decided to write my reviews here on my blog with a widget or link to the music in question . . .   

So here is a problem . . .  When musicians remove their music from a site, the widget becomes useless .. .. When I come upon these, here in my blog, I remove them and usually I remove the words, also .. . . (I just removed a widget and review)
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Another site I've been enjoying exploring is : http://archive.org/
which is a vast repository of web sites, books, texts, videos, audio . . . etc.
including all of Jamendo: http://archive.org/details/jamendo-albums

I found this little song by another Jamendo favorite of mine, posted here on her own little pages . . . Van Syla's "Rain Moon" . . . uniquely her, yet in a new style.

Stunning!
Beautiful and ethereal . .
graceful is this dream song . . .
the gauzy skirts of the clouds
drift over the shining face of the moon . . .
flirting and dancing
to the drumming rain . . .
a sentimental wistfulness . . .
and for a moment our vision expands
to witness a passion, between
a lonely rock and a serene blue planet . .
and then we follow the tracks
of the rain . . . upon the black pavement . .
our hearts . . . that much lighter . . .

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So There you have it ... my latest recommendations and reviews . . . .. ...

Enjoy the music . . . where ever it may be, and however it finds you . . . it is there to fill you with emotion, joy, and passion . . . 

Enjoy it while you can . . . 

 

LIFE SUCKS

Grieving over Jamendo

The loss of one half of my hearing . . .

 other minor things . . . 

like losing .25 of my job . . . 

what else . . .

etc.

Life Sucks . . .

but I suppose we go on

. ..  suck it up, so to speak,

and move on . . . 

and then we find new things . . .

brighter and shinier. . .

and what was

becomes a distant memory

cloudy

perhaps

forgotten

Dreaming in the Sun

The air is full of small insects
playfully looping and dancing around
lush greenery, still tender with dew drops . . .
and the happy faces of yellow flowers,
pointed toward the sun,
bob beneath the tender touch of a mild breeze,
or the administration 
of a pollen coated honey bee . . .

The warm sun glows and
we forgive him his long journey . .. 
a distance taken behind stormy clouds . . .
The air is redolent with a sweet perfume,
like a river of delicate surprises. . .
a scent skimming off 
a snow white blossom covered tree . . .
petals flutter down . .  


Somewhere a crow calls
and I see the serene face
of a daydreaming ape . . 
carved on an old fence post . . 
a face reflecting mine, somewhat . . .
as I drift away
wrapped in the warm arms of a skyward furnace,
while I watch a small pair of black spiders
scurry up the post, dancing in the sunlight
like lovers . . .

So many shades of green . . .
the tender, furry, yellow new growth . . 
mingles with the deep emerald purity
of maturity, shining like jewels
. . . twinkling . . .or matte and still,
like moss on an old stump . . 
green stalks of grass are
spears pointed toward the day star . . 
a forest . . . and the golden light
exposes their thin veins in yellow . . 

Silver filaments of spider web
span the abyss between islands of growth,
quivering like a harp string
plucked by unknown fingers . . .
dramatic and bowing as rainbows
after the storm . . . 


Birds fill the soundwaves
with song,
pearls on a line . . .
linking my heart . . . 
with the universe . . .
and the sun fills my soul
with memories,
of the divine . . . 

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An artist share from Jamendo . . . such beautiful music . . . I have also shared this artist's web page in my sidebar of favorites . . . check it out:

Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO

One Morning Moment

Relax
The frost has only moments to live . . 
The sun has long arms and reaches down to pluck
the cold blooms to disperse
them into the quietude of the still atmosphere
Dream
The birds are singing
familiar refrains, meant to sooth
your rumpled and bewildered soul
Watch
The golden flowers quietly open a multitude
of petals and nod in the gentle breeze
as crowns of down fluff
up into a waiting sky
Listen
A story reveals itself as another day
ephemeral and transient 
as a glistening bubble
drifts through on the wings of angels
Peace
The robin chirps
and the clouds glow
a certain soft amber
shaded by deep purple
              companions.. .
The early morning storm has just passed,
leaving rivulets
to reflect a beckoning blue sky
And I reflect on
loneliness
as a solitary bird
ascends towards
the drifting clouds
and disappears into the silhouettes 
of trees standing  
together
as if giving strength . .  one to one . ..

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This page is dedicated to a friend on FaceBook . . . 
who lives across the Columbia from me . .. 
He reminds me that we are all lost and lonely 
and trying to seek the answer 
to a question we have long ago forgotten . . .  
"Why . . . " 
We are all searching, 
in our own way - 
not because we want to be loved . .  
but because we want to love . . .

What I Understand . . .

What am I . . . ?
a piece of flesh
a colony of cells . .
a near dispersal of atoms
along a line of time . . .
somehow coordinated . . . compelled
to form a familiar figure .. .. something
recognizable . . . something, yet vague . . .
like a flail of corn silk. . .
or a jellyfish of the deep .  .

and here are
planets tugging on the strings
of my heart . . . I dream
of something so ephemeral
that my vision is but blindness
and the bits of me . . . like fragile bubbles . . .
incoherent with struggling goals,
and I envision the beyond . . . where
I am not welcome . . . not yet . . .
where angels gather in glory
and colors beyond my spectrum . .
each shape a home,
each breeze a wing displaced . .

I move my head and find your eyes
looking into mine . . .
there a reflection of me . . . 
and I dive into the rippling pool of your heart . .
beating, bloody and warm . . .
with a life not yet fully disclosed . . .
each moment held fragile,
the future a tale yet untold . .
the past a watery dream . . . fading . .  fading . .
a hot coal in the center of each chest
thrives on the unimagined . . .
I sense the eons of pressure . . . building,
creating diamonds of untold glory
within the caged center of the living . . .
and the of the dispersed . . . those
who have traveled on . . .

I reach out with fingers . . .
almost unthinking
to touch your tender cheek . . .
and watch you blink . . . one drop . . .
a tear strolls down the curve of your face . .
something presents itself . . . circular . . .
sorrow becoming joy . . .
conflict falling into peace . . .
a flower blooms and then withers . .
a life renewed . . . what is it that is so deeply buried -
and flies with the wings of subtlety,
building a breeze to tower . . . and envelope . . .
like the color of golden yellow . .  emanating from the nearest star . .
blazing . . . an entity arisen from the divine . .
nothing and then something . . . .

I am humbled before your scorn . . .
your judgement seems to know me . .
even beyond my knowledge . .  for
I see so many sides . . . to the proverbial coin . .  though
your footsteps walk before me .  . leaving me
in the dust of your contempt . . . you seem to have a
multitude . .  with you . . .
for so many have evaluated the soul of me . . .
my choices having gathered a chaos . . .
where no definition of hope resides . . .
My days are numbered and I am weak from age . . .
years of walking a rough road . . .
hesitating at each fork . . .
I take the one that offers adventure . .
and knowledge . . and the brilliance of a star . . .
I take the one that offers love . . .

I understand your need for perfection . . .
yet wholeness and absolute  control continues
to elude you . . .
I see the world around me .  . as muddy . . .
a mix of flesh and fire . . .
emotions and desire . . .
dreams and reality . .
what we see at the end of the rainbow . . .
that old elusive struggle,
meets us at the end of our days . . .
The oblivion of death . . .
faded memories . . . like the tattered flag of the Universe
waving lonely in the breeze;
we exist . .  and yet we don't . .. 
as transparent as forgiveness . . . 
as profound as reconciliation . . .
as ephemeral 
as tomorrow . . .

Running in Place . . .

camellia . . . Spring 2012

Experiencing a Broken Eardrum . . .
Voices waver around me so distant and watery . . .
and not being able to discern from where noise emanates,
my head swivels like a nervous mantis . . .
wary of sound .. .. startled by movement . . .
I find myself being gentler . . . kinder, to compensate
for something lacking in me .  . . the children hug me more . . .
as if they sense that brokenness in me . . .
Experiencing deafness . . .  my left ear
reverberates with its own voice . . aching with want . . .
broken . . . it fails me profoundly,
giving me vertigo . ..  a sensation of
continual inebriation  . .  and the sad inability
to hear surround sound music . . .
I listen to my favorite tunes . . .
but they bounce around, lonely, and hollow,
in my right ear . . . an entity of sound, desperate sound . .
making an inroad into my soul . . . my brain. . .
cracking the stone . . . disturbing the stillness . . .
The boy at the early morning bus stop
exclaims at the beautiful song of the birds . . .
and though I know the robin's voice . .
as if it were my own child's . ..  the "cheer-uppp"
is flat and unmoving to my ear . ..
but I smile at this enthusiasm
of my sensitive, young friend . . .
and his wish for a "good" microphone
to catch this magical sound . . .
I too wish for something to hold life's music . . .
for me . . . the song of the bird
is more precious as it grows distant . . . in my memories . . .
my own voice, sounds numb . . . and strained . . 
to my lonely ear . . .
and friends speaking into the dead orifice 
wait for me to respond . . . and
I must remind them  . ..
I am deaf there . . .. 
temporarily . . .
I hope . .

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Spring Flowers 2012

A mountain reigns where
blue poppies
in the shadows of the bosom,
like a river, flashes and
ripples in the breezes,

dances in sunny meadow . . ..
golden bees,
green fern encasing,
and a pungent scent
of emerald exhales
from the melting dampness,
while tiny daisies
with beckoning white arms
daintily embrace the miniscule,
like suns capturing planets in
a dance of awareness
through the dewy dawns of time
. . . a dreamy light strokes the shoulder
of the feeding doe
meandering through the flow
of soft blue poppy petals . . .

reflected as glowing purple globes

in the large shiny orbs,

the bottomless depths of the

brown eyes of the deer . . .

Crocuses . . . Spring 2012

Jorisma . . .  ElectroPop

Always a good listen . . .

Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO

 

Do Not Laminate . . .

 

The rumpled edges of my train pass

                          speaks of many voyages . .

the dirt that clings,                    

                the smudges that blur,

and the shiny heart       

that once embraced a              

            street light glow,

and amber lights

                  like quasi suns

with halos and darts

spattered bright         

              and lamentations of

 semi-permanence . . . .

 

Inside of me is a hollow woman,

ravenous and filled with desire. . .            

hungry for a universe,        

longing for a world

that lights up beneath the song

of existence. . .

as nothing is much more than             

a whisper in the wind          

a teardrop in the rain;

I close my eyes                 

and there is the shadow of an

 abyss and                

nothing but the music    

with an echoing refrain . . .

If all I have . . .           

is myself

                      without a heart

or an umbrella . . .

to ward off the storm . . .

of fire . . .                    

and if all I am

       is the frame of myself

made of metal,                 

rusted and dented

yet seeking             

the fragile. . .

              If all I saw

was emptiness

and loneliness. . .          

the world a whiteness,

              no mountain peaks,     

nor ocean depths . . .

                 If all I heard

was silence. . .                 

the whisper of nothing

I would never know

to say good-bye

I would never know

you

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Hello My Sunny Girl

Hello my Sunny Girl . . .
my tasty sweet and wild girl. . .
you create the music
that makes my world
whirl like a top
and a dream . . .
there is a roaring
in the atmosphere . . .
somebody's moon is melting the slow ice . ..
and cold crisp water runs down
the walls of my blue prison . .
I remember the song you sang
on the day I first heard you . . .
but now my feet are cold
as winter grips them
in chains woven of tears . . .
and the black skies lower their bellies
to smother me . . .
my design is a tree
that grows me to you
my sunny girl . . .
waiting to be held
in strong branches . . .

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Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO

               This Beautiful Music:

                       Peaceful and quiet,
         floating in a still sky . . . 
                           weighted like a feather . . .
             drifting
                          silently by . . .
                                  Moved by the winds
             that blow o'er the night,
                          dreaming in the meadow
         beneath the starlit sky
                   The snow falls down around me,
                        a blanket smooth and bright
              the music fills the atmosphere
          with melodies like bells . . .
                                teardrops slowly falling
                 crystal daggers
                             in my blurring eyes . .

18th Century Chinese Vase

You were my universe . . . turmoil seethed in me
like star fires and billowing clouds of darkness,
bright with light reflected
from the unknown gods . . .
a small bubble of blue; a magnet
for lost souls and questing angels . .
do you know what I feared more than
anything else? Not being loved . .
and yet I managed to survive for a time . .
without another soul to comfort me . . .
Alone, I was, on the green meadow . .
still trying to cross the river that seems
to be but a trickle . . a mere wisp
dangled like a carrot before me . . teasing
with offerings of bones full of helium  . . .
and gifts of grace to float away . . .
sailing up a sunbeam . . . I always felt they were ladders for souls . . .
for angels .  . . and I would gaze at them until
the spots before my eyes transformed
into winged creatures coming and going . ..
gold dripping off the tips like honey from a spoon
held over a warm cup of tea . ..
my hands warming in the steam . . . I would take a deep breath
and make a wish as if I were looking over the genie's brightless lamp . .
and I in a soot darkened cavern . . . lost for all eternity,
could dream with eyes wide open
while listening to the song of water
crashing against crystal walls . ..
the hollow caves of me .  ..  dark and empty
the things that rattle around there,
a wayward mouse . .  dusty and gray,
a frayed ribbon, green and blue,
a crust of toast, stale and moldy,
and a few odd bones, discarded long ago . ..
with the stench of rancid grease clinging to the breaks.
I know the heartache of loneliness,
it comes with a terror
and a deep knowledge . . . that I am unworthy
of being loved . .. 
that no one will ever be there to hold out a hand . .
to help me over the river,
and through the misty valley . . .

and a Chinese vase, deserted on someone's driveway,
holds the ashes I left behind . .

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Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO

I have to agree that album cover pops right out at you, it stands out amongst the crowd .. .. and does justice to the music . . . 'tis a beautiful choice . . .

. . . and the music . . . how gorgeous . . . a little different from Van Syla's usual beautiful musical excursions . . . this one (even more gorgeous) takes us to medieval times . . . and so romantic . . . a Shakespearian choice for sure . . .

Delicate and tender . .
like old lace and lavender . .
a romance choses to bloom
against a robin's eggshell blue sky . . .
'Twas Spring dancing in the meadow. . .
her hair flying in the breezes
and dreams of love's gentle song . .
where only sunshine could exist
and nothing could go wrong . . .

or could it . . . . .

"For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo." - W.S.

but in the end the story gives us
exceptionally beautiful music . .
so we forgive the tears. . . .
and listen to the tale told twice
and then -
again and again . . .

And such a wonderful Jamendoan reviewer as our Carybe, who exists in our lovely Jamando kingdom, is one to deserve a gracious dedication . . through such a romantic and well made music . . . the sound so perfect and the love so deep . . .

Thank you, Van Syla, for sharing . . .
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