A Song Called Love . . .

I love your heart . . .
the song you sing reminds me
that we are but fragments of the stars. . .
fragile dust which has filtered
through fire and storm
leaving us divided
and traumatized . . .
each one alone,
incomplete . . .
yet all somehow connected . . .
a long unbreakable thread

Look up and see your wings . . .
seize them from the eternal abyss . . .
and fly away . . .
along the road Forever . . .
find your joy in the smallest flower .  .
a tunnel to life where miniscule creatures
tremble beneath your eye . .. 
I believe your tears will melt the wax,
of feathers . . . so tenderly applied . .
so violently sundered . .
your eyes like rays of molten sunshine . . .
a gold which drifts away,
lost within the clouds dispersed
over a troubled sea . . .
your heartbeat will thrill
the mountains to the ground . .
your bones as white as snow . . .
frosty shards bite into the depths . .
hard is the pain . .

Look deep to find the dreams
of souls . . . the same flows
in fathomless swirling waters . . .
danger . . .
beware, for angels dare not tread here . . .
the song is from the human heart . .
to heal and build the thread
of life . ..  and death . . .
and hope . .. a complication which
seals forgiveness
within the marrow of the soul . . .
and calls it love . .. . 

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Review:
Walter Mazzaccaro, "Sognandoti Ancora"

http://www.jamendo.com/en/list/a119856/sognandoti-ancora

Opening with an OH-SO romantic piano . . . 
I immediately visualized a couple, 
with eyes only for each other  . . 
dining over candle-light . . . 
a dreamy atmosphere . . . 
a full heart-felt passion . . . .  
ahhhh . . . 
the music takes me to this place of love and romance .  .

On the Hill

Sunflower and friend . . . in France

the wind blew and
the branches with their clusters
of wet leaves
slapped my face . . .
rubbing their hairy undersides,
wet with fallen rain,
along my cheeks . .
stemming my voice with
dirty green;
I sensed annoyance
in their language . ..
the dripping of the woods . .
was hollow
as rivers melted  into the mosses
and rotten logs . .
every child of the undergrowth
slithered and chirped . .
winged icons fluttered where branches bent
as landing stages . ..
and the shadows so dark and heavy,
like fanged mouths of caves snarling. . .
gnarled roots crawled up through the loam
laying traps through this old avenue . . .
slicked with mud
drooling with the congealing blood of the wilderness  . . .
plastering my soles with wild lava
cold and tempered . .  slippery with birth . .
I flew through these woods . . 
my grief so unavenged,
yet like a greasy arrow
straight through my heart
branding its way through those barrens . . .
a frail vine
lifting boulders
succoring me with its fruits . . .
I dreamed, as I ran,
of voices calling . .. barren trees
and spirits of the ancients . .  
a balm of honey . . . golden in purity,
a shelter in the storm,
a twinkle of laughter;
my steps take me to the top of the hill,
the heights above the forest . . 
a rainbow's end from the city;
the storm having danced away,
finds a home across the mountains
and I find the stars blooming
across a velvety sky . . 

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Some music for your enjoyment:

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

The Watcher

Window in Strasbourg, France

He makes music
in the dark,
his heart beats
to the rhythm of the moon
. . . its expressive face
lighting up his life
as he goes - -
the old farm hand
lost in the winter
with his cart
full of offal
dispensing castoffs . .
his weary frame
bends to retrieve
another treasure,
like gifts gleaming
in the darkness
as he guides his cart
roughly
over a crumpled road
. . . the sound
of music rises to
the stars
carrying his lonely tears
in the night
. . . like a wayward sigh. . .
the tinkle of trash
well received
by this who listen . .

In the morning
before the sun arises,
the souls of geese
. . . honking
in the inky stillness;
pools of darkness
bloom around the sliver
of a moon,
and I wish I were
the white moth
rising through the
dewy air
reaching for the apex
of the moon
where fluttery
kisses will wake
his sleepy eye . .
and the cheer-up
morning song
of robins
echo in the sunrise . . . beckon
angels to tread
through wisps of breezes

I see you as you
walk towards me
your silhouette as black
as a hole in existence . .
The steam from your breath
rises to meet
the mist from the melting frost
rising like ghosts
to dance before the low
winter sun .. . .

White wolf

dreams in the shadows

of times long past

before the bite

of metal

and barriers

to her passing . . . 

her golden eyes

open

to lighten the world

and her breath smokes

through cherry blossom

ambiances

the sun setting the

mists aglow

the flames touching

the cheeks

of the watcher . ..

 

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Database of Dreams . . .

  

The rawness of the heart,

an intrepid explorer,

reaches beyond the expected

where everything is reflected

within the misty lines

of distance

and the mighty

beat of drums . . .

where hearts gather

to tell the tales of love . . 

and hurt . . 

The fall of the day

glows through the embers

          of passion

and imagination rears,

on a winged horse,

dancing on the rays

                   of brilliant stars

lines and lines and lines

          as far as eternity. . .

shining, gathering

the dreams of gods

and oceans

birds and mountains

butterflies and trees

dreams within dreams

burnishing cycles of patterns . . .

each dream a fire burning,

each heart-ache engraved in a moment,

reverberations within the song of existence . . .

a crystal bell tinkles in the distant

rain drops glisten . . .

a dream is lifted . . .

this speck . ..  this thing . . .

is placed within the all . . 

the evermore . .  eternal all . . 

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

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

What Rare . . .

Along the Lot River, France near Cahors (Summer, 2012)

what rare

beyond the flow

of wayward breezes

come

the sparkling sheets

of forgiveness

dance on bending branches

what dream

beneath the roots

of awakening . . .

the sun burns holes

through memories

and hope . . 

what weight

through crystal colors

of time

depend on vision

to entice away the

lingering butterfly . .. 

what shattering

the engine 

of discovery . . .

and somewhere the breath

of happiness 

becomes

a headstrong wind . . .

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

Never a Dull Moment

Photographer Unknown*

Around here. . .

always the potential of wild action . . 

which I watch for . .  diligently . . .

for nothing escapes me . . 

and when I see, what is unique to me . . .

I cannot avert my eyes . . 

for fear of missing one detail . . .

there are no lies in my world . . 

just the endless parade of wonder . . .

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

 

*Usually I don't borrow the photography of others without noting the artist's name . .. but this one I could not resist and where I found it . . . floating around on FaceBook . . . there, sadly, people don't respectfully submit the names of the photographers.

Undefined

There is something at the rim of the universe . . .
a sound of forgiveness or                  
                    a fog of music through which
a vision of spheres dance       
                             beyond the endless stars
breathing deeply of creation;                       
                     the tapestry explodes with
                      energy flying through the underside
                                                     of forever . .
a sign is given of grace
and things yet to be revealed as           
                                                      reflection . . .
the mote in my eye
                                        is an angel dancing
through sheets of salt . . .                          
skating, swirling, leaping . ..  undulating
                          weaving in and out of rippling skies;
formless, the uncreated are rebirthed                               
                                                                   as wingless beasts crawling through                                   
                                                                      the mud of a seamless landscape . ..
                                                                                       seeking a lost pearl . . . an elusive
                                                                         iridescent flow of hope . . .                        
                                                                                      yet their greed commands them,
                                                                            bubbling up through the murk and filth . . .
                                                                       and thus they lose vision
                                                                                                                 of a beauty . .
                                                                                   forming an aching arch of stillness
                                                                                   an undefined spectrum                                       
                                                                                     around a wounded moon . ..
                                                                                they lose sight of the given,                             
                                                                                   chasing after the forsaken . . .
                                                                               and the sound of music
                                            rattles the bones           
                                                                              of a yet unformed world . .

Something Died

 Something died
and nobody cared,
a shroud of flies gathered
and nothing washed the body.

It lay silently

 without sweet incense

rising like a prayer;

or flowers weeping tender

petals,

silently turning

into cries of desperation
it was an end of something

an era . . . or a dream . .
and hope flew away on
wings of steel blades . ..
each stroke a slash
on a stilling heart;

dark red were the skies

where

crystal drops

of silent tears 

were

falling, falling

 

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Like Heartache

Cresting the tidal wave of sunlight
ending in points
of color                      
blue and yellow              
contrasting        
golden filters
reflecting               

yesterday's                      
         butterfly . .
a habit of watching

rewarded . . 

cresting happiness
joy                             
which though
so ephemeral                                 
as effervescent             
as a bubble
a moment where wings                   
lift the spirit
which crumbles                     
so easily crushed        
against the harsh
embrace of                               

planet                   
and universe
with all its glory                        
and beauty
red stones in the road                    
like drops of blood
burnished and turned
dusty                                          
each left                              
like a sign                  
to the wanderer
the harvest is contentment  
fleshy fruits           
hang low
to entice
the hungry soul
like becoming         
fingers
like fish in trees              
like patterns against the blue
like many hued clouds
bursting with dew . ..                 

Like music                   
      in the wind . .
the birds                       
       on the wing

a sky so blue          

a sun so warm . . .

I dream of innocence

for in the end                          

when all the stars           

are gone:

the darkness 

remains . . .

  Krzysztof Malinowski, "Catharsis"

This was just what I wanted to hear . . . Uplifting music, with a clear sound; conducive to smiles and relaxation . . wings that lift me up as I listen . . . a breath of fresh air relieving pent-up pain . . . sorrow and grief flow away into an endless streaming breeze . . . Music has a way of touching the soul's deepest feelings . .. reflecting and inspiring the mind of the heart. This album is a tale . .. a tale of darkness and pain . . . a tale of escape and desire . . . . a tale of death and re-birth . . .

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

    Lines Build Walls by Ehren Starks

The End of Summer Roses

Vampyres . . .

"Requiem" from Van Syla's album "Goodbye"

Original review by Orangeupurple for the album: 

As I walk along this lifeline
I see the shadowy beginnings
and I hear the tearful goodbyes . . .
The march of time
goes slowly by
rending what we hold most dear . . .
This temporal place
these bloody shreds
We cling to in despair . . .
Dance with me my beloved
for we soon must say
goodbye
Hold my hand my love
and look into my eyes
I see myself inside of you . . .
and you within my heart
you are forever there
although,
we must be apart …

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

 

"Beginning of a Journey" by Yumi Kurosawa on Magnatune
Original and creative . .  this work is exotic with unique placement of instruments and a creative expression of peace and sublimity . . 






    Beginning of a Journey by Yumi Kurosawa