Just Whispered

The breath of the universe

Blowing gently through the leaves

They blushed

And let go

For this moment

I, too

Am a tree turning red

A little yellow

A bit orange

Every illusion drifting

Floating

Blown away

My branches are barren

All bark and odd angles showing

I wait in the autumn sun

For my white cloak

Limbs lifted in praise

For the cold and dark

For the bright cool light

Longer still

For the warmth of spring

dirt road cover by dried leaves
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Did I Mention

Would that I had told you

How the fire burns within

Little embers, little sparks

Lights that brighten up the dark

When I see you smile

And hear you laugh

The joy I feel when you are near

Did I mention that I see your heart

In every thing you do

How beautiful the colors cast

Reflect in every movement

To hear your voice is sweetness

Surpassing every sound

When I sleep and when I wake

It is your name said like a prayer

You are a sacred place

A quiet pond

A respite

From the worries that I carry

Upon your shore I lay them

For a moment fettered free

When you reach for me

The world bursts into blooms

Behind the Songs: Mixtures Poetica Preview Tracks

Previews of the tracks for the upcoming album Mixtures Poetica album are now posted on SoundCloud with more to come in the following weeks.

Mixtures Poetica is the follow up album to the previously released EP Poetic Mixtures which was an exploration of audio techniques combining poetic elements with soundscapes for mood and setting, and can be found on many platforms.

One of the things I love about Puddle of Words (written first on this very blog here) is that it really captures the essence for me of how books can pull you right into them, and the invitation to read together. Those favorite books are the ones we want our people to read and share in the story, the experience, the characters!

With Eternal Constellation, I really struggled to capture the feel and texture and delivery that I wanted for it. I woke up one morning with the idea for a stronger speaking element, and the resulting track has an irony about it that emphasizes how a step towards self-centeredness (being true to self and one’s intuition) combats people pleasing conformity, but there has to be balance so that becoming self-centered (in the selfish sense) is avoided.

I had a lot of fun making these, and enjoy listening to them. I hope you enjoy them too!

Posted an Original Song: Clever Like This

This is part of my systematic effort to reduce performance anxiety, and share original music. I’ve played this song only for a handful of people prior to recording.

There are other new posts up on my YouTube Channel, some of which are mildly amusing, sporadically informative, randomly entertaining, and insightful as to why something that might take 15 minutes will digress into singing, extemporaneous playing, and exploring the nature of sound.

This video stays on track though (miraculously).

Delightful

He lingers on the edges

Of a universe askew

I am dancing in the courtyard

Garden fountain flowing

The music’s in the summer breeze

There are flowers in my hair

This dress is swishing softly

The grass bedecked with dew

There’s a tension to this moment

Each step, each turn, each beat

Will he step forward to the dance

Or back again with chilly feet

The moon is shining brightly

The dawn is soon to break

This dance is almost over

The pipes have all been played

My arms are tracing patterns

Against the starry morn

The spell is almost finished

Fate is almost cast

He lingers on the edges

Of a universe askew

silhouette of ballet dancer
Photo by Gustavo Tabosa on Pexels.com

More Congenial

I want to be better

More friendly

More open

More kind

I want to be consistent

Disciplined

Organized

Life is messy

Waves of distractions

Knock me from my feet

I tumble over opportunities

Choosing heart over plans

Meeting needs with disregard for

The outline

The bullet points

The lists

Crumple the paper and start again

I am hung upside down

Shaken

Coins drop from my pockets

I lost a boot

Twenty times I almost got it done

Almost

Almost

I write a list of the things I did

I burn it rather than share it

Flames rise from the actions

Which take place in the dark

The left hand doesn’t even know

The right hand exists

So much I never say

The avalanche clears it away

I check in with my heart

What to do today

white printer paper on white printer paper
Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

She’s Compounded

How many breaks

Of bones and hearts

Fractured into multitudes

She’s many

Exponential

It’s worse than you thought

Or can imagine

How the pain is held behind a smile

At bay

For a minute

For an hour

For a lifetime

He had a temper

They used to say

But it meant more than that

It was a code

And I know there are men in the mix

Suffering at the hands of mad women

You know it two to too

Pink Floyd knew new nu

It’s women hurting women

Men hurting men

Even so these intimate disasters

Create the ruins from which we grow

Everyone is hurting but it’s worse

Than you know

Or can imagine

It all breaks apart

Shattering

and we all want to be home

safe

nurtured

loved

Lacking the skills to get there

Without a map or a guide or a road

We stab at healing in the dark

And cut ourselves on the tip of our tongues

What was said under covers

What was cried in the early morning hours

What was hidden behind sunglasses

What was hissed in the angel’s ears

Of pain and threats

No one saw

No one told

No one wants to remember

Until someone told

And people saw

Remembering it all

They blame the teller

Not the hitter

They punish the outspoken

As their fears push them further to the edge

Fear has a temper

Rising

And she’s compounded

Fractured

And the earth herself

Is cracking open

Grab your pen when the tremors start

Write out your dreams

She speaks

This reckoning in ashes

This reckoning is the sea boundless

This reckoning falling from the sky

She is compounded

Healing

The doves fly at dawn

The nightingale sings

The mockingbird mocks

The pig roots for you

Under the underbrush

Where the truffles grow

She is compounded

A rising vibration

Lift off or or be left

In the throws of the unsung

Stuck in the birth canal

Choked off from the infinite song

Hope rising

Peace settling

stomp once if

Stomp twice if you hear me

flowers grass meadow time
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Things You Never Told Her

In dusty musty boxes

In the basement corner near the back

Papers yellowing with age

Edges curling crinkled

Ink is smudged and

Pencil smearing

Cardboard soft and slightly limping

Are the words that choke you

In the middle of the night

How the sunlight dancing through her hair

Is magic when she lifts her face to laugh

Because she had a thought which pleased her

So she glanced over her shoulder

When her eyes met yours you felt it

Underneath your bones

Electric

How her presence in the darkest nights

Her even softest breathing of her sleeping

On more than one occasion anchored you to life

When her hand brushed up against yours

Fingers intertwining

Held you steady as your fears came creeping

That her touch banished them from sight

How the glimpse of her turning dancing movements

As she measured out a song while she was cooking in the kitchen

And her voice would sing along

That the joy arising from her gave you one more thing to love

About a life that had been dark and wary

Stressed and sacrificial

Maybe she never knew how she was balm to healing pressures

Maybe she never saw her worth beyond a budgeted refusal

Frugal and self reliant

She fixed and healed and tidied

Maybe she wept at times for lack

Maybe she questioned every penny of her worth

Maybe she longed for one more word of kindness

Maybe she wished for a hand which reached her heart

Maybe she knew

How every day you counted her first among your blessings

Some pages in the boxes stuck together

Moldering in cardboard splitting at the seams

Bending breaking open

Spilling letters onto concrete in the basement of your heart

The words running together

In wild fantastic herds

They have galloped across the plains into the forests

Grazing underbrush of lines growing thick

Around the trembling trunks of trees

All the poetry you feel is falling floating down

Drifting in paragraphs

In autumn colors just like leaves

As you trace the patterns on her hands

Watching wrinkles crinkle careless at the corners of her eyes

As she gazes at the antics of the chipmunks just outside

Maybe her smile is warmer, brighter when her glance meets yours

Maybe she reads each unsaid word there within the light

Glowing from within the silence of the corner boxes

In the basement near the back

Spontaneously combusted in the twilight of your life

As the flames dance and spark there

Behind your eyes

All the things you never told her

Flickering tendrils in the darkness

Became her hearth and home

person standing on brown wooden floor
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