billowing within
notes of longing flow in sync
with love’s earnest needs.
elevate the words
they hold tightly as anchors
for melody’s lure
take me here softly
lay me down to the music
slowly, in good time.
Tag: music
Dancing with Monsters
I awakened to the sound of music with a heavy back beat: Thump, drag, thump, drag, thumpety-thump, drag.
Four behemoths surrounded me, circling closer at every turn.
Three were unholy physical specimens, long of tooth and claw. Fearsome in their intent.
The fourth was lame, addlepated, carefully moving one stumpy appendage in front of the other.
Snatching at the box of sanity I kept on my nightstand, I watched and waited for an opening.
When the crippled beast stumbled, as we all knew he would, I dashed between his grasping arms.
Stinging pain sang through my neck, a lucky blow rained down.
I screamed, a tuneless melody of injured flesh, and the beasts paused.
“Yes! Yes!” they all cried out. “Now the dance can begin.”
His Songs
he plays a little club on tuesday nights, a seedy little place off main
the voice, still strong after all this time; yet he never did sell his name.
his songs, sad and sweet, sift through my soul transcending time and tomb
my lonely heart answers the way it knows best; i feel i must call home.
invoking the loss of my family, of my false securities
his songs call out my every conceit and bring me to my knees.
home will you take me back? i’m so damned tired of this road
i thought, oh i thought i could make it, until i heard his songs.
I Hear Music
Sometimes in the early morning
after my man has left for work,
but before I have left our bed,
I hear a melody playing behind
my eyelids, soft yet insistent.
Instantly, though, once I open
my eyes, the sweet strains are
dissipated, music diffused all
throughout the greater cosmos,
and in vain I seek the source.
Creeping stealthily from covers
I tiptoe through our quiet home
pausing with held breath hoping
to surprise the makers of music,
but at hide and seek they excel.
The tiny musicians, for they must
be faeries, or related small folk,
lurk just outside of my eyesight’s
range, giggling giddily of that I
am sure; mischief is their nature.
So I return to bed, to the comfort
of my blankets and snuggle down in
a cloud of cool cotton and fleece.
My breaths lengthen, my eyes close,
and the music begins playing again.
I actually do hear phantom music, and have my entire life. Until I mentioned it to someone else I just assumed everyone heard it. While that used to freak me out, now I just accept the music as a quirky blessing. It’d be nice, though, if I could get a number one hit out of it.
Peace, people!
Musical Oasis
After driving over 1100 miles I reached our daughter’s home in Rapids City, IL, a small town situated on the banks of the mighty Mississippi. I always think I’ll come up with a better adjective for this father of American rivers, but nothing suits it quite as well.
I guess we could say HUGE, but thanks to the current presidential elections the H word is so overworked. And it fails the alliteration test, so there’s that.
Last night I stayed at a dump of an inn in Nashville, Tennessee. I might’ve slept for three hours. But earlier in the evening I did get to go visit with my cousin, singer/songwriter Effron White who hosted a songwriter’s round at the Millennium Maxwell House. It was the first time in a decade that we were able to hang out.
The evening’s company and entertainment more than made up for a poor night’s rest. In fact, since I couldn’t sleep I just played all the songs back in my head.
More photos from the evening. I was blown away by the level of talent in the room.
Check out one of Effron’s songs as performed by Phil Lancaster. I just love the French introduction!
http://youtu.be/A1YVPWqsJc0
Peace, people!
Eleanor Rigby
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:
This Is Your Song
Take a line from a song that you love or connect with. Turn that line into the title of your post.
“The Lyrics”
by Leslie Noyes
My head is
full of
lyrics
they roll
through
my soul like
honey and
thunder.
These words
soothe and attack,
seek and destroy,
reduce and elevate.
My only
defense
is to
join my
voice to
the melody,
dance
to the
beat,
or sob.
I’m reduced to tears every time I hear “Eleanor Rigby” by The Beatles. I’ve highlighted my favorite line.
Eleanor Rigby
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved.
All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all belong?
THE BEATLES lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. “Eleanor Rigby” lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Copyright © 2000-2016 AZLyrics.com
Backup Singers Wanted
The beautiful and talented Katie Flynn, featured in the YouTube clip above, needs a couple of backup singers for an upcoming gig. Katie, who resides in Illinois, and I are friends on Facebook, so when she posted the following:
I need 2 female back up singers who know how to shake it a bit. PM me if interested ASAP! 🎶💃🏻🎤
My first thought was, “Hey! I’m interested!” My second and third thoughts, in rapid succession were, “Shoot! I live in Florida,” and “I’m afraid to shake it a bit, lest it become a lot.”
Then I thought (my fourth of the night, and something of a record!) maybe I should put the word out there and help Katie find her backups.
One more thought, “Hell, who am I kidding? I can’t sing.”
If you know someone in central Illinois who can sing and can shake it a bit, let me know. I’ll connect you with Katie. In the meantime, I’m going to practice my singing and shaking.
Peace, people!
Silent Night
I went outside last night hoping to snap a picture of the full moon. Surrounded by trees, Doright Manor doesn’t have the best location for moon viewing, full or otherwise, and the clouds added another hindrance.
The weather, though, was indecently warm for December, even for Tallahassee, Florida–75 degrees and as humid as a sauna. I wore my favorite flip flops and sang Walking in a Winter Wonderland to the neighborhood. No one threw rotten tomatoes, so I broke into Silent Night for an encore. From across the lake someone called, “Please, oh please!” I chose to take that as a request for more.
Peace, people!
John Scalzi Presents Day Four
http://whatever.scalzi.com/2015/12/03/whatever-holiday-shopping-guide-2015-day-four-fan-favorites/
Day Four of John Scalzi’s Holiday Shopping Guide gives fans an opportunity to provide input.
Do you have a favorite author, artist, or musician whose work you want to promote? Go to the link above and check out the criteria. Then make your pitch.
Easy Livin’
Our covered, screened-in porch is the perfect place to relax on a mild November evening. There’s a family celebration in full force across the lake, fairy lights and lilting voices twinkling on the calm water.
I’m sipping a Shock Top Raspberry Wheat Ale and tapping my toes in time with the guitar music drifting across the pond. Whoever’s playing isn’t very adept at their craft, but they’re quite enthusiastic. I like that in my musicians.
The man I adore, Studly Doright, is inside the house heating leftovers from yesterday’s Thanksgiving Day meal. I’m not a bit hungry, having already eaten two pieces of pecan pie, an avocado, bacon, and cheese omelet, and a ham sandwich today. The ale is my dessert.
Life is good here at Doright Manor. There’s a black and white cat winding around my ankles and a black cat snuggled down for a nap in the chair next to me. No, it’s not an exciting life, but it is filled with peace and love.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 