"Sing Life's Song" (Entry 481)

I smile at jokes from distance times.  

Although I alone remember. 

Now the tears flow, I don't know why. 

My heart and soul are in embers. 

My laughter turns and anger burns. 

As the truth dissolves the fences. 

Though I yearn, it's you that spurned. 

Destroying all of my defences. 

But I'll grin against the hurt. 

Lifting chin up to the skies. 

There's a new hope to assert. 

I walk on with clearer eyes. 

I am strong, know where I belong. 

I have a future of which I'm proud. 

You were wrong, this is my song. 

It's my life and I'll sing it out loud. 

"Little Silver Bell" (Entry 446)

Silver bell on red bicycle. 

Trill out your bring. 

Take thrill in your ring. 

"Bring! Brrring!"

"Ring! Ringggg!"

High tring echoing tin. 

Sing out, Little Bell. Sing out!

"I. Always." (Entry 299)

I exist,
Amongst the stars,
Soaring through bright blaze of nebula
Secret pockets of folded space.
Beyond the sight of telescope.

I am,
Within the earth.
Unseen fingers wriggle in claggy cold clay.
Invisible toes stretch in mossy peat,
Where the wild world grows.
Caress Earth's surface and feel her breathe.
Go deeper and entwine within her heartbeat.

I live,
In oceans,
in the deep to dwell,
then ride upon the blustered swell,
To land as dew upon a daisy petal
Kissed by fleeting butterfly’s hush.

I survive,
In the air,
Hear my choral rhapsody within the wind,
be carried as dust wherever it blows.

I am there,
Always,
Part of The Universe - my home.

"A meeting. Hey, Lady!" (Entry 282)

"Hey, Lady! Got any change?"
"What?"
"Change. Have you got any? To spare, like."

Lady glances at the grubby girl in the doorway.
Just another dropout, but there was something about the eyes.

What is it about eyes?

Grubby can't be more than 15,
a child really.
A child.

Lady rubs her swollen belly protectively,
then digs into her bag,
pulls out a £5 note, pushing into the outstretched hand.
"Wow! Thanks, Lady!"

Grubby jumps to her feet and
lays her hand on her donor's stomach.

Unexpected!

"You and your child are truly blessed."

Startled by the statement,
as the voice that occupies Grubby is much older, deeper almost a host of sound that resonates.
Echoes.
Sings.
Chants and praises.
Raises and rides an ocean wave of emotion.

A moment.
It seems that the 33 week load she carries becomes weightless, like a helium filled balloon.
Relief. Warmth. Release.
Love. Support. Peace.
Grubby got it right - a blessing.
Truly, a blessing.

Lady turns to question Grubby.
Gone.
Off to spend the money on booze or drugs or some such thing.
With that thought,
The pain returns.
Lady sighs.
And sighs again.

"Midnight Revellers" (Entry 184)

Join the throng when days long gone.
To party through the whole night too.
Take my hand, sing 'Auld Lang Syne'.
Soon the bars will be all mine.
People watch without a care.
Midnight revellers. I want to be there.

**********

Happy New Year!

Hope 2012 leaves you with fond memories.

May 2013 bring you many, many more!

"The Piano Players" (Entry 69)

If you listen hard enough,
somewhere in the world,
someone is playing a piano.

More than one.
What do you think?
A thousand? A million? More?

All playing to their own tune.
Living their life to their own rhythm.
Take a listen.

All playing.
Are they young or old?
Professional or new?
Some for fun, others for money.
Others play because they are made to.

Just think
if all these millions,
let's stick with millions,
all played the same melody
at the same time.
Would everyone on the planet hear it?

Would it reach the angels?

But the angels already hear them,
every song, all the time, everywhere.

For at this moment,
there is one angel who sits beside a girl
enveloped in thought and music.

The angel sighs, knowing that soon
this song will soon be lost.
As there will be one less piano player in the world.

So play,
play now and loud,
or softly for yourself,
but play.

Play your piano while you can.

"Night's Chorus Unheard" (Entry 66)

I lift my head towards the inky darkness.
Tiny pinpricks of light glitter in the sky,
dulled by the full moon
lit large and luminous.
The spot light for the dance.

Above me, the performance had begun.
A thousand leather-like wings flap to reach the gods, and glide.
The multitude of bats in flight.

Beyond my senses, although I strain,
in hope of picking out their sonar song.

What secrets do they sing?
Oh, to be part of that chorus,
these electrifying voices of the night.

"Instrumental Melancholia" (Entry 41)

Orchestra gathers,
movement together
to play the melody of life.

A malady and cure of emotions
stirring in the songs of the soul.

Of all the instruments assembled
In the corner sits
the melancholy
whose sheet music can be
an underlying single note
forever played,
unnoticed,
unloved with regret.

Or an aria
lamenting as strong as the soprano diva.
An opera of its own
to end
in despair and tragic death.

To many, it can be the interlude,
a solo breath of grief,
between the true acts of living.
A cruel intermission.

Which Instrumental Melancholia do you play?

"Country's Trouble Times Twice" (Entry 30)

When she came into his life,
he didn't think twice,
when they were together,
it was fire and ice.
He was a tall cool blonde
who took no fools.
She was a red headed woman
who broke all the rules.
It wasn't a storm cooked up,
that between them they stewed,
They were the tornado in town,
and it was trouble they brewed.
Everywhere they went,
you knew they'd leave a hurry.
They robbed and they scammed,
Living in state's flurry.
For he was a tall cool blonde
who suffered no fools,
and she, a red headed woman,
breaking every damn rule.