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 Gift of Childhood . . .

Its funny . . . how our childhood expresses itself throughout our lives. . .

I am writing this before I listen to the album of one of my favorite musicians on Jamendo.  I am reading the story he tells . . . the story about himself as a boy doing the shopping for the family. . .  as he passes by his friends, playing soccer, he is a little embarrassed by his circumstances . ..  yet his heart is full of melody which comforts him. As he walks, today, through the dusty roads of his memories, he is awed by the idea that today his music is published on the Internet, and somehow this pays backward for the young boy . . walking with that basket full of yesterday's dinner.  

These stories of childhood move me . . . as I work with children. I can look back over my troubled life and be amazed that I am where I am today . . . and I see potential in all children and I wonder . . . children express themselves verbally in such flat ways . . . never delving into the deeper meanings of the things that happen to them through the words they speak.

. . . but give a child a tool to share their art . . . crayons, the ability to write, create music or sculpt . . . and you will find that they are as capable as adults to express the depths of their souls . . . their dreams and their hurts and joys . ..

Life is amazing! 


These two albums were created by grown adults . ..  remembering their childhoods as if they happened only yesterday . . .

First I want to share an album, full of summer light. I have already written a review for this album, as orangeupurple, . . . a music written by CŒDES Pierre-Marie called: "Scattered Memories 2" about his childhood summers . . .
His story touched me so I will give the link straight to his page so you can read that:

http://www.jamendo.com/en/album/87115

REVIEW:
You painted an Awesome picture of your summertimes
12/03/11
OH . . . Pierre-Marie . . you are a boy after my own heart . . you did the things I did and felt exactly the way I felt during those golden warm days of childhood summer. I enjoyed reading your text and felt that having the album was only part of the joy, this time, as you tell a poetically vivid tale of those wonderful days . .. and I felt so close to you . . . maybe we grew up together . . . I think it was you and I feeding those pregnant mares in that field of golden grasses??? . . . ;-D

Then I listened to your creative music . . . how you paint with sound . . . and how you give it that glowing warm, sparkling quality .. .. how? You are gifted! You move us through those richly layered stories and you tell them with your emotionally vibrant and dynamic music. And I see before me, giant canvases with developing story lines flowing across the landscapes of your memories . . . green hills, trees, colorful people, animals and that bright golden sun . . . and there is the beautiful night time, curved around the edges, because of the brilliant stars and Grandpa adding to the whole painting with such style and strength . . .

Each of your pieces struck me with its unique methods of conveying your feelings and images. I loved your use of drums throughout and especially in "Playing Knights in the wood." You used such exquisite sounds, like the chimes, to depict such visuals as the "Stars at the tip of Grandpa's Finger" which was so heart touching a title . . .And the strings in that piece were especially beautiful. The flute dancing through "Puffy Clouds over Grandpa and Children in Golden Fields" was perfect and the drums again drawing on strength to create a wholeness, rounding out the picture for the listener to enjoy.

"Comes September" was a little dark and slow . .. as I imagined that young boy in his new school clothes, and with a sad look on his little face saying goodbye to Grandpa and the crisp dry grasses of summer as he trudged off to school. As he took a few last deep breaths of the dusty summer air he felt a slight coolness in the breeze as a last tired butterfly fluttered so close as to brush his cheek with its wing and he stood very still for a moment on his road and remembered all the goodness of the summer past .. .. and knew that it would come around again . . .

I love these types of albums . .. creating a sense of unity with other human beings, the listeners, as we all can relate to the story teller . . . yes . . this is like listening to a story as we sit around the fire . . . a beautiful story told through music and words . .. and like children we listen in awe . . . "You mean . . you did those things too?" I wanted to know you, that little boy in the streams, and fields and woods during those summers not too long ago . . . because your experiences resonated so strongly with me and your music moved me quite profoundly. . .

- M^^W -

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The next album is published today and while reading the text and lyrics and listening to the songs, I find this music most poignant and melancholic in regards to the experiences with which children are exposed.

This album is full of the colors of childhood . . . 
the drama and the heartache . ..  
a message from tiny hearts that overflow with love,
and the desire to be loved . . . to be noticed and cared for . . .
more than anything a desire to be nurtured and accepted
for themselves . . .
Many of these songs resonated with my own truths and  experiences
. . . but while the adult can look up and remember hope
a child is full of . . . hope 
and expectations of bigger and better things . . . 
and always the heart of a child responds so well to
finding that one adult open to their needs . . .
an adult who has experienced the life of a child . . .

I'll tell you that "Little Hero's Dream" made me cry .  .  . there was a moment in the melody that crept into my heart like that lost, little child . . . dreaming the impossible . . . of becoming a hero . . . . . . saving a world, being strong and capable . .. that was my favorite daydream . . .the song resonated with me . . . reverberating through my lost soul's story . . .

Of course all the songs were precious and all the contributors did so expertly and with astonishing expression and creativity . . . Beautifully done . . . The lyrics are poems which deserve to be read . ..  so here, again, I will provide a link to the page of the album. To read the lyrics click on the track name and the lyric page will magically appear . . . enjoy, as I have, reading all these lovely, sweetly sad poems . . .

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