LOST MUSIC

“Music is only love looking for words.” - Lawrence Durrell

This week, Poets and Storytellers United has given the theme of “Music for the Muse”. I brought to mind the often repeated words that lovers say when “that” song begins to play: “They’re playing our song…” And they become starry-eyed. The song is significant for those two people and is laden with memories. Alas, sometimes those memories are quite sad, especially if the love affair has ended, one way or another…

Lost Music

You left me, without a bitter word being said
Taking flight in a hurried flurry like a bird;
My life all of the sudden empty, void,
A darkness and a pain I can’t avoid.

When you were gone all of the music died
Your absence grey, my life’s colour denied
In midst of summer, now cold and frost,
All joy and song and dance were lost

Our song now echoes in my empty heart,
How can I listen to it since we are apart?
The music was once tender, joyous, sweet,
But all I feel now is sadness and defeat.

The fates conspired and our love was crossed,
We gambled, with our stakes too high, we lost.
Where are you now that I need you most?
A hazy shadow, an elusive wispy ghost.

Memories, wakened by the music in my soul,
In fibres of my being run and consume me whole.
Music is the food of love, they rightly say,
And in your absence, no song will ever play.

Our song now echoes in my empty heart,
How can I listen to it since we are apart?
The music was once tender, joyous, sweet,
But all I feel now is sadness and defeat.

I couldn’t resist putting the words to music! Here’s the poem set to music and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify,  Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.

BIRTHDAY

“Don't just count your years, make your years count.” - George Meredith

The New What’s Going On blog is prompting about birthdays this week. I’ve just had mine last week, so this is quite apt. Here is my poem to read and it’s accompanied by best wishes for all who are celebrating birthdays (and not necessarily the day of your birth!).

Birthday

There was no cake -
Too many carbs and empty calories;
Besides, sugar is evil we are told.
(Act your age, cake is for five-ear olds!)

There were no candles -
Definitely a fire hazard!
And they always melt and make a mess on the frosting
(Anyway, there is no cake, and you don’t like eating wax, do you?)

There were no presents -
You have everything you need.
What do you want at your age?
(You’re too difficult to shop for anyway…)

There was no party -
I’m sure the neighbours would complain,
Strangers popping in, noise, loud music all night
(Can you imagine yourself wearing a paper hat?)

There was no card -
Who sends cards nowadays?
You’re lucky to get an email:
(With “Belated Birthday Wishes” a month later.)

There was no alcohol -
In your condition? That’s a no-no,
Too many interactions with your medication.
(The doctor forbade it, you know it full well!)

So I went out alone to the pub,
And had a good counter meal with a nice wine.
There was a piece of cake with a candle on it afterwards;
And the barman sang “Happy Birthday”
And everyone joined in.
I felt quite merry, and the fellow patrons too.
There was music playing on the jukebox
And we all danced like there was no tomorrow,
With no complaints from anyone.

A touch of indigestion later,
A deep sleep (thank you, alcohol/medication interactions!),
A bit of molten wax on my coat sleeve,
A gift of a bottle of champagne in the fridge,
And in my pocket a little card,
Scribbled in neat, flowery script:
“Happy Birthday, from Julia!
That was great fun tonight.
Call me… 74530029
It's my birthday next week.”

A SMALL THING

“All relationships change the brain - but most important are the intimate bonds that foster or fail us, altering the delicate circuits that shape memories, emotions and that ultimate souvenir, the self.” - Diane Ackerman

This week, Poets and Storytellers United has given the theme of “Stubborn About the Small Things”. My poem was triggered by the trifles we have kept as mementos in some unopened drawer or closed cupboard. We look at those as we one day come across them and they awaken memories. Here is a poem on that theme:

A Small Thing

I clutch it tightly in my hand

A small thing, a bagatelle, a trifle -

And yet for me it’s special, grand,

Worthy enough my breath to stifle.

I feel its smoothness, and its metal -

More precious than pure, fine gold,

More delicate than a flower’s petal,

More rare than something choice and old…

“Love me”, you’d said and gave it me,

Feeling your soul were given to me also.

I took it looking at the wide blue sea,

Capturing sun, sky, your face - all I saw.

“I love you”, I’d whispered to you softly

And I grasped your gift so very tightly;

The tiny trifle was for me dear, costly,

Its dullness sparkling, shining brightly…

I look at it again, so many years later

And I feel a pleasure so much greater,

Than what a rusty metal fairground token

Would give, or our words then spoken.

“I love you”, you had said so tenderly,

“I love you”, I had said so slenderly.

And then goodbyes were uttered

Our hearts were closed and shuttered

And now a token is all that’s left

Once our union’s bonds were cleft.

I clutch it tightly in my hand

A small thing, a bagatelle, a trifle -

And yet for me it’s special, grand,

Worthy enough my breath to stifle.

TRAVEL TUESDAY 501 - MT HOTHAM, AUSTRALIA

"We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt." - Walter Scott

Welcome to the Travel Tuesday meme! Join me every Tuesday and showcase your creativity in photography, painting and drawing, music, poetry, creative writing or a plain old natter about Travel.

There is only one simple rule: Link your own creative work about some aspect of travel and share it with the rest of us. Please use this meme for your creative endeavours only.

Do not use this meme to advertise your products or services as any links or comments by advertisers will be removed immediately.

Mount Hotham is a mountain located in the Victorian Alps of the Great Dividing Range, in the Australian state of Victoria. The mountain is located approximately 357 kilometres north east of Melbourne, 746 kilometres from Sydney, and 997 kilometres from Adelaide by road. The nearest major road to the mountain is the Great Alpine Road.

The mountain is named after Charles Hotham, Governor of Victoria from 1854 to 1855. Mount Hotham's summit rises to an altitude of 1,862 metres. Mount Hotham Alpine Resort, a commercial alpine resort, is located on the slopes of Mount Hotham summit and nearby mountains. Administratively, the mountain is within Mount Hotham Alpine Resort unincorporated area, land which is managed by Alpine Resorts Victoria. This unincorporated area is surrounded by Alpine Shire.

Snow occurs frequently and heavily, and sub-freezing maximum temperatures can be recorded throughout the year— even in high summer. However, due to frequent winter cloud and the mountain’s exposed position, a temperature below −10 °C has only once-occurred since records began in 1990. Mount Hotham receives an average of 66.1 snowy days annually. It is the coldest weather station on mainland Australia by maximum temperatures.

During the declared snow season (usually from the King's Birthday long weekend in June till the first weekend in October), the village and resort are busy with tourists. Visitors need to purchase an entry permit to enter the resort during winter. The resort entry fee contributes to essential services for guests around the mountain, including ski patrol, the free village buses, snow clearing of car parks in the village, waste management and environmental initiatives.