Freedom . . .

Somewhere in the Lot, France - 2012

The following poem was inspired while listening to the music of Van Syla: "Finally Free" .. .. 

the eyes of the dolphin
saw the wings of the 'gull
as she flew above mountains
which shadowed the sea . .

the heart of the dolphin
longed for those wings
to fly with the birds
across the great sky

and into the morning . . .
down through the night
the dreams of that fish
were always of flight .  .

mere flesh,

feather, scale, and fur
 the beasts of this earth
never fully share . . .

yet a heartbeat away
a breath taken deep
the warmth of the sun
a love that will keep

a world of water,
as the dolphin flies,
she leaps with a grace
reflected 

in a soaring bird's eyes . . .

the joy of rapture
the freedom to dream
take just one step
you'll have your wings . . 

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This music is so beautiful . . it brings the tears to my eyes . . . it's perfect . . . the sweet strings dancing with the piano . . . it's a dream of a song . . . something to give wings to the listener . . . lift them up with gentle warm breezes . . . let them fly with the music . . . the heart is full of happiness as the soul finds freedom . . . a melody to savor . . .Thank you for the kind dedication!

and the trees dance on and on . . .

I haven't been lost. . .
as I round the corner,
another year -
another day

I haven't been found,
either,
but the blue of the sky
reflects
in the corners of my eyes
where a small tear
like a lake
full of life

passive and
still under the setting sun
a fire blooms
and rages silently . . .

I once dreamed
there were faces
in trees
and they danced with me
in the night as
they sang to me of death
and life
and death and life

and that it took a hundred thousand
eternities
for one small molecule of water
to pass from here to there . . .
I am the lost one . . .
I wander in circles

in a crowd of stars

where I am seeking

a field of flowers

over a hidden sea

drilling

into my heart;

the beats

irregular and

the blood drained

by the dark of the night . . .

there is a white moth

flickering,

like an old movie,

the story of my life -

I am here

in the end,

raveling

the thread,

as a lacy wing

blooms before my face,

I was wrong

when I told the truth. . .

sweat drips from my eyes,

salty and sweet,

dark heart shaped splashes

sullenly evaporate

on this warm living soil

where a molecule of water

dies

and dies again

(Written under melancholia on the eve of my birthday)

Thoughts from my head on my way to work . . .

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out

my ex-husband stole my
inheritance
to hire a man
to stalk me,
and then ultimately kill me. . .
Yet
When the man and his friends
were ready to snatch me,
from the street corner,
as I waited for the first bus . .
and then the police car
came up behind them,
from nowhere . . .
like my guardian angel . . .

So many years ago . .  and the tears still fall
when I remember . .
I try not to remember how I hated and feared men
after that . . .
The horrors of a man who could leave
a woman he once loved
destitute . . .

for I had nothing left,
but my life . . .
my friends
my child
my joy of life
the stars over my world
the air, flowers, birds . .
running water . .
my intellect
my spirit

my strength . . .

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out


the beautiful girl
raced past me to get to the bus shelter's bench
why?
She saw me with my cane . . .
my slow pace . . .

I wonder sometimes . . .

If the fruit of the tree
of the knowledge of good and evil . . .
was that verbal communication?
Was Eve the first human to talk?
Is that why men hate women so much?
because Adam had to listen?

we live in our heads,
tentacles of ourselves reaching out. . .

The workmen, in the building, gave me earplugs
to ward off the loud dissonant sounds
of the fire alarms
they were testing . .
with strobe lights flashing .. ..
it feels like an alternate universe
and I cannot quell the sensation
that I must run away. . .

the ear plugs are soft with pink and yellow stripes,
like candy,
I squish one down
and place it in my ear
where it expands slowly
tickling my ear drum
with its whispering sounds . . .
now I hear
only the sounds
of my inner self . . .

We live in our heads,
tentacles reaching out . . .

I walk towards the stairs
which lead up to my office

there is a lonely footprint
on the unwashed floor
bare and small
toes pointed
towards the exit. . .

We live in our heads,
tentacles reaching out . . .

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

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Massimo Vaccaro, "Meditazioni (EP)

http://www.jamendo.com/en/list/a122771/meditazioni-ep

Delicate flute and rushing water .  . peaceful and quiet . . .  gives the listener room to breath . . . 

My only complaint is that the album is too short . . . but I listened . . . forever . . ..

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Royalty-free music for professional licensing

GingerTom, "Music and the Movies 10"

http://www.jamendo.com/en/list/a122725/music-and-the-movies-10

With GingerTom's music, it is best to travel to Jamendo where he furnishes our minds with a delightful story to attend to the music . . . Even better to go to the beginning of this series and read the stories for all . .  in order:

I love the mystery of this musical story . . . It touches on something I would love to do . . travel through China, incognito and being touched by the simple lives and the beauty that abounds, both natural, historical, and human created . . . the Asian notes, and instrumental sounds in the music is quite nice, not overdone but tempting the heart of the listener . .. to follow . .. wherever it may lead. (This is one of my favorite GT's )

Please feel free to check out my music shares and reviews at:
http://wolfsongsmusic.blogspot.com/  
Thank you!

House . . .

Halcyon Hall *

I am lost in your hallways . ..
skylights ripped like scars
through your skin . .
you have no joy in me
as I wander through the night
leaving temporary imprints,
blood on your walls
I am but a memory that clings
like refuse . . . waiting to be blown
into the ever waiting skies . ..
a dream, a bit of wayward dust . . .
a glint of glass reflecting hope,
for esteem . . . I stand and yet
I crumble . .  slowly . .. minutely
momentarily away . . .
melting like seaweed
on endless shores . . .  I am lost
in your beauty . . .
I am lost to you .. .. .
I hear a hundred thousand voices
resounding like planets
across the plane of time . . .
the foot falls . . resonate. . .
sliding warily
through memories . . . woven in delicate
arches . ..  backs bent, straining against the pressure
that releases life . . .
a spare coin rolls downhill
like thunder's deep echo
the voice of a god speaking
hidden behind the next corner . .  
beware of splinters
spearing deftly through the murmuring heart . . .
the fall of the house
frees the soul as pigeons
wing skyward
the timbers crash to the soil
and the stench of mildew
revives the community
to bury the body . .

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


Rune X -Natural Northern Darkness-,  "Paganstorm II (Album2013)"

Dark pagan . ..  black metal . . . joyless and droning . . yet mesmerizing and meaningful . . . responding and resonating with the listening soul . . .

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Red Dragonfly

 To lighten and brighten the mood . ..  This dragonfly was hanging on to the tallest branch in my yard, after taking several flights with a friend . ..  it would sit here sunning itself, the colors glinting from the wings were like fire, golden red fire with occasional glimpses of the rainbow . . . its little head would turn and look at me as I took several pictures . ..  but it posed magnificently:

 

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* This picture of Halcyon Hall was NOT taken by me but was found on the Internet without notes regarding to the photographer. There are many pictures of this hall ( also known as Bennett College ) located in Millbrook NY . . . the latest pictures are of the collapsing in the middle section . . . it inspired me, this house, with its fancy face yet lost expression . . . its age and deterioration. . . its history . . .

http://www.preservationnation.org/magazine/2011/story-of-the-day/the-rise-and-fall-of-halcyon.html

http://www.opacity.us/site11_bennett_school_for_girls.htm

http://www.flickr.com/photos/carla-kurt/8620576750/

Where Tears Gather . . .

The clouds, with shifting patterns,
                                       form and reform over the arch of the hill . .
mutilating the view of the mountains,                       
                     yet painting in shades of gray the flight
of the winged . . .
the glow of sunlight veiled                                                  
beyond the ceiling of the sky . .                          
finds its way to the sea beneath
                                                  where gather the teardrops
                                                                                        of the multitudes . . .
. . . hearts encased in hurt . .
          yet . .  somehow the souls
of the living and the dead connect . . .                                            
                                          through time's secret  river
as it flows into the sea with our dreams . . .
                                                                          for once we rose
on wings that shined like rainbows;                       
                                                          each soul a vision of love and joy . . .
the being of each a treasure,                           
                        always a reflection
                                                                       of the beauty of the earth,
the cosmos . . . the universe, and
heaven . . .
                      the place where waters gather . . .
where now the golden ripples                          
                             of sunbeams unite to dance
upon 

a trembling sea . ..                 

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This music, by GingerTom, is enjoyable to listen for anytime . . . yet it's more fun to go to his pages and read the story that is entwined with each track and enables the listener to see his vision (which is stage worthy) . . .  I have written several reviews for each track as they were published so I will not write another . .  just want people to enjoy this great listen . . . (My favorite track is "Tea Time" . .  but others have their unique value also):

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

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

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

My Love is a Mystery

Multnomah Falls, Oregon

Multnomah Falls, Oregon

sparkling is the water
shattered beneath the cliff . .
like crystal and memories
on the stream set adrift . . .
shining the wings
flying o'er all . . .
silently beating
the breezes to rise . . .
warm is the sun
on my cheeks,
a  light kiss ..  .
my love is a mystery
where life strikes a chime . . .
like the flight of the eagle . ..
and the cling of the vine . . .
no understanding . . .
no dreams .. .. visions grand . .
my love is a shadow
my love has been cast
the heart slowly broken
and slower to mend . . .
I know not the future .. .
nor remember the past . ..
yet hope is the song
to my soul closely clasped . . .

This is quite a striking album . . . beautiful, stunning music . .. peaceful and quite captivating . . . an elegance of sound and a beautifully balance album cover. This one has been around since the beginning of July and somehow I missed it . . . but here it has emerged to flow into my heart and soul and be a soothing delight . . .  Some of these songs are so tender that they are like the effervescent dew . . . delicate and ephemeral . .. tending the moment with intense peace and vision . .

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Child of Mine . . .

 To Creix . . . who's music
reflects the dark of my midnight soul,
and the tender gleam of hope

through the poetry of the mind;

and who is my friend,

inspiring me

to reach beyond my limitations!

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Child of mine, 

you cried in the night
. . .  the night so deep and dark,
like a ditch
full of muddy waters . .
yet gently stirred by the delicate kisses
of fronds of fern
bent low . . .
and reflecting on ambient light,
they sparkle dreamily
unknown . . by mountains
or meadow . . . melody or silence;
no soul here
but you
and I

. . . to face the dark
of our own fears
. . . where no star dances
through hot aches,
spots on a frozen heart . . .
. . . my heart weeps for you

. . . our tears mingle
like rain with the dew
on the flower,
bent low . ..
slowly losing each petal,
one after the other . . .
drifting, slowly drifting
into the muddy waters . . .

A Spare Moment . . .

Sunflower and friends . . .

A bit of a sky brush

has pasted some thin

white clouds

across

the eyes of the rising sun,

as she searches the faces

of those who love her, and

a melody is performed

as wings

touch the breeze . .. 

of a morning

full of tender peace 

and aching with memories . . .

The man with the gentle dog

offers to cut the sunflower for me

just as my camera captures 

that bright yellow face

to hold forever . .. 

I was deeply moved by this stranger's

desire . . . to give me a smile . . . 

. . . finding moments like these

strewn across my pathways

in an eternal heaven,

presents purpose and song,

like the meaning of stars 

and the spirit of waterfalls . . .  

like a gaze from the gods . . .

 it covers my spirit with healing,

creating me anew . . .

and though I said "No, but thanks,"

I received the greatest treasure

a day could offer . . . 

an endless space of love

in a tiny moment . . . . 

where the clouds are but spare tear drops,

flung out like pearls,

to frame the beauty 

of a flower

dancing eternally in the breeze . . . 

A beautiful morning, and I walked part way into work . . . and decided to take pictures of the sunflowers before they faded completely away . . . I especially wanted the sunflowers growing against the back wall of the automobile repair shop . . . because I had seen them in their glory . . . but I was a little late . . . yet I saw one solitary bloom that was striking, and took its picture  . . . and the man with his dog, was cutting across the field and he offered to cut the flower for me . .. and I felt such a connection between souls . .. I explained that I loved to photograph flowers but don't care to keep the blooms themselves as I prefer they stay where they are . . . giving joy to other eyes . . 

    

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Royalty-free music for professional licensing

I like this music . ..  it fills my day with serenity and peace .. . .it gives some bright bubbles of light which sparkle in my atmosphere and I am soothed . ..  it can play for hours without becoming old . . . and it influences my spirit to create . ..  

For more Jamendo music reviews check out my forum thread : http://forum.jamendo.com/index.php?p=/discussion/12000142/album-shares-with-my-thoughts-and-reviews#Item_167 

Meandering Road

Peahen, and her brood, taking a walk

My walking stick, like a third leg, gives me the stability I need to trudge through the unfinished roads near my home. A peaceful place; I find it necessary for me to have these few moments, here, to de-stress and 

daydream.

The road, full of potholes

and gravel

is coated with a fine talcum powder dust

which rises as I walk,

lending yellow streaks to the still air . . . .

I hear small birds singing in the cool mornings

and during the warm afternoons

the chickens are wandering around softly murmuring

and chuckling over tasty discoveries . . .

while the voices of children add

to the flavor of the day . . .

Distant traffic

drones and eats away

at the edges 

where a squirrel chatters

at the crow who steals her hidden nuts.

Walking by a newly built house

I hear the friendly clatter of silverware

against porcelain. . . someone

stirs something up for dinner . . .

like a chime in a melody;

a lazy dog barks once or twice

and the crunch of gravel

adds to the tympani  . . .

there are children gathered

around the man trimming the wayward vines,

while laughing at his jokes

they help him

away from his secret sorrows,

and that deep well of loneliness

which pervades,

sinking like the dust

into the multitude of holes

in the soul . . .

  

A tree the captivates my senses

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Time to cool down from those high hot temperatures of Summer? Well here you go . . . a nice chilly jazz tune to ease your pain . . . imagine standing under that waterfall . . . and listen . . .. !

When We Had Wings . . .

     Once
     so long ago . . .

     a spiraling galaxy
     held our hearts . ..

     and we flew from end to end
     with wings
     that cried . .

     in grief, of sorrow
     in joy, of love . .

     we held on our faces,
     masks of serenity

     our praying hands
     cupped nectar from
     invisible winds . . .

     and we dreamed
     of a golden star . . .
     shining on a silver sea . . .

     and we reflected
     from heart to heart
     a soul of a planet . . .
     a small blue flower . . .

     a babe cried there
     on a lonely shore . . .
     where the seabirds gathered
     and the salt air stings
     in contemplation . . .

     and the dreams flow
     like mists and dew,
     rivulets of
     what will be . . .

     tomorrow and tomorrow . .
     deeper into the darkness
     we flew . . .
     our wings of crystal . . .
     shattered and fell away
     and we forgot . . .
         that once we were angels . . .

EDIT (August 28, 2012):

I was so moved by a Jamendo friend, Stefano Mocini, who was inspired by this poem and wrote a beautiful musical piece to go along with it . . .

Royalty-free music for professional licensing

Rune made a beautiful video to showcase Stefano's music . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKoP-QXgRUk&feature=em-subs_digest

Blue

Things that fly . . . at the mere kiss of the breezes . . .

the sun shines, warm and close . . . .

The birds are buzzing,

and the bees singing,

little things marching

on their parade grounds

find their place . . .

on this heaven we sometimes

call earth . . .

We force our way past gravity

reaching toward the unknown . . .. 

dreaming of the impossible,

following our

star

The dragon folds 

her treasure

into the palms of the lonely,

and dropping her demons to the floor she

lifts her wings

to shine against the

blazing sun

When I find myself lost

in the shadows

I wait, but a moment,

for the sun to follow

her road

above the horizon . . .

where she kisses

my cheeks 

and breathes

her warm life giving

spirit

under my

sun dappled

wings . .

. . . and I am

the meadow,

I am the dream of tomorrow,

and the dance of the

eagle's eye,

sparkling . . . . . .

for that moment

that lasts forever . ..

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

I took all these pictures around Clackamas Town Center near Portland . . .  A small meadow next to the I-205 freeway, inspired me the most . .. and all the art, hanging on poles which intrigue me . . .tend to appear in the most amazing places . . . where they capture the sun and reflect it back to the observer . . .