THE MUSIC OF YOUR THOUGHT

“Immortality is to live your life doing good things, and leaving your mark behind.” - Brandon Lee

Coming back to the New What's Going On blog this week. I have gone into the woodwork the last few weeks as there have been many things happening to me and around me: Illnesses, a death, some friends leaving Australia, and I have been busy preparing for a couple of art exhibitions that I had committed to some months earlier.

I’m sharing a French song I’ve written with you today. I’ll give you the lyrics and the translation if your French is a little rusty.

This song and all my music you can find in my “Otidorchestre”  channel or listen to it on YouTube,  Spotify,  Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.

La Musique de Ta Pensée

« De tous les chiffres de l'alphabet,
C’est le cramoisi que j'adore… », dit-elle ;
Et je la regardai, déconcerté,
Amusé aussi par sa propension à colorer
Jusqu’au plus terne des sujets.

« La mer, elle vole si bien, chassant les rochers
Tandis qu'ils s'élèvent vers le fond… »
Je lui ai souri, me prélavant dans le soleil
De ses hyperboles, m'approchant au plus près de son étoile
En ce court instant d'un périhélie hyperbolique.

« De ton toucher, j'aime la musique et le miel, »

Murmura-t-elle, sous un souffle de ciel ;
Et j'ai chanté l'onde de ma main, trace de soie,
Sillon de sucre où mon âme se noie.

« Mes pensées secrètes vivent dans un tiroir fermé à clé dans mon ventre… »
J'acquiesçai, en caressant son nombril,
Voulant ouvrir ses cachettes les plus intimes
Pour m'y perdre tout entier.

« J'apprécie l'honnêteté des pégases
Qui, en période de mue, avouent ne plus savoir voler… »
Remarqua-t-elle pensivement, caressant mon omoplate,
Et à cet instant, je sus... oui, je le sus pertinemment...

« De ton toucher, j'aime la musique et le miel, »
Murmura-t-elle, sous un souffle de ciel ;
Et j'ai chanté l'onde de ma main, trace de soie,
Sillon de sucre où mon âme se noie.

Alors que je me préparais à un aphélie perpétuel,
Que je l'avais perdue, à jamais...
Dernière lettre muette d'un alphabet désormais sans chiffres.

The Music of Your Thought

“Of all the numbers of the alphabet
I adore crimson…”, she said;
And I looked at her bemused,
Amused too, by her propensity to add colour
To even the dullest topic.

“The sea, she flies so well, chasing rocks
As they rise up to the bottom…”
I smiled at her, basking in the sunshine
Of her hyperboles, approaching nearest to her star
In that single moment of a hyperbolic perihelion.

Of all the music of your touch,
I love sweetness…”, she added;
And I sang with my hand,
Leaving a trace of honey, treacly, sticky,
On her smooth skin.

“My secret thoughts live in a locked drawer

In my belly…”
I nodded, as I caressed her navel,
Wanting to open up her innermost
Secret hiding places to lose myself into.

“I appreciate the honesty of pegasi
Who in their moulting season admit they cannot fly…”
She pensively remarked, stroking my shoulder blade,
And at that moment I knew,
As I prepared for a perpetual aphelion,
That I had lost her, evermore.

PEACE...

“Peace is not an absence of war, it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition for benevolence, confidence, justice.” - Baruch Spinoza

The New What’s going On Blog has given us this week the theme of “Peace” to explore. Here is my contribution.

Peace

It is the laughter of children playing outside my window,
The smell of baking in the kitchen and the larder full.
It is the hurrying steps of a returning labourer,
Content with a full day’s work, eager to come home.

It is the fields that bloom, the grain ripening in the sun,
The cows dozing as they chew their cud.
It is my love in her summer dress reading her book
Under the shade of a green-leaf tree.

It is the sound of music drifting down the empty street
As dancing couples whirl in the town hall.
It is the two adolescents that kiss beneath a full moon
While the crickets chirp in approbation.

It is the careless saunter late at night,
The lights left on inside the house, burning like beacons.
It is the sound of airplane engines in the sky, which only
Stirs the thoughts of distant exotic places and carefree holidays.

It is a rusty rifle driven into the earth to support a growing vine,
An old soldier’s helmet, now home to a budding flower.
It is the surety of watching your children surviving you,
The swelling pregnant belly and the double-joy of grandchildren.

Peace: It is a quietude and a celebration of the commonplace,
An all-increasing accumulation of small delights that add up to bliss.
Peace, it is a multiplicity of contentments and a realisation
Of what humankind has the capability of being.

THE STARRY SKY

“Nothing prevents happiness like the memory of happiness.” - André Gide

This week, The New What’s Going Blog has set as its theme: “The Things I’ll Remember”. Memory is a powerful force in our life and is indispensable to our wellbeing and health - one only has to look at the dire effects of dementia… My poem looks at a perfect memory that will persist till the moment I’ll no longer be able to remember or think of anything anymore…

The Starry Sky

On a clear and dark night
We gaze up and see stars;
Cold and clear is their light,
Burning in the small hours.

Your hand’s in my hand,
Our breaths synchronised;
We sit still on the sand
Making memories prized.

High up all the planets align,
Our arms firmly entwine;
Hear the music of spheres,
That’s delight to our ears.
How the sky conspires
With its starry bonfires,
Our true love to inflame
Lighting our heart’s flame.

While we wait for the dawn,
We embrace and we kiss;
Wide-eyed we look on,
Not a moment to miss.

As a star falls from above,
We wish never to part,
And swear that our love
Will forever be in our heart.

High up all the planets align
While our arms firm entwine;
Hear the music of spheres
That’s delight to our ears.
How the sky conspires
With its starry bonfires,
Our true love to inflame
Lighting our heart’s flame.

The poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my Instagram site “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify,  Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.

FEAR

“Always do what you are afraid to do.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The New What’s Going on Blog  this week has as its theme: “Words of Fearlessness or Courage”.  My poem is below, but this time, the “song” that accompanies it relates to the very last line of the poem and illustrates perhaps the reason for the fear… 

Fear

“Why be afraid of the dark,” she said,
“Close your eyes and you will see
A great light and rainbow colours,
For within you burns a sun
Brighter than the one up high.”

“Why be afraid of evil,” she said,
“Open your heart and you will find
Goodness beyond measure,
This kindness inside, it is enough
To annul all wickedness.”

“Why be afraid of hate,” she said,
“You have the strength to fight it,
Your courage is beyond measure,
Bravery within you lies untapped,
Enough to let you win.”

“Why be afraid of love?” She said,
And she paused, thinking hard.
“Ah, indeed, love’s a force to be feared
And no matter how hard you try
There’s no way to counter its invincible power.
Respect it, harness its potential, enjoy its pleasures,
Be grateful for its presence in your life;
But be afraid of love; be very afraid of it…” She said.

The poem relates to the 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.

BLACK

“Blackness remains the coat you can't take off.” - Clint Smith

The New What’s Going on Blog  this week advises: “Choose one color--black or white--and explore the depths of meaning the color has for you.  Write a poem that immerses itself in EITHER black or white, but not both.  Don't even mention the other color in your poem.”  I chose black. Black as a state of mind, as a feeling, as an essence of being - the black of despair, the black of the mood one cannot be rid of, the black of hopelessness and anguish…

Black

Black is my life, dark is my lot,
And happiness, all’s gone, forgot.
Black, black, my life is black,
All sadness, only cold and dark…

Black thoughts, dark night,
No hope, no joy, no sight;
Black is the heart that dies
As love so far away flies.

My soul with pitch is painted
My life with tar is tainted;
Ebony nightmares conquer
My uneasy sleep, somber.

And without you, blinded,
I fumble in a dark abyss,
Powerless and weak-minded,
As your sweet kiss I miss.
Black, as a coal with no fire,
I burn in a dark, flameless pyre.

I’m dressed in cloth of ink
And draughts of poison drink;
Dark shadows, cold despair,
Choke me, rob me of air.

Swimming in waters of the Styx,
An ice-cold numbness will affix;
A sunless death, deep in Tartarus
Your lack so grim, so barbarous…

And without you, blinded,
I fumble in a dark abyss,

Powerless and weak-minded,
As your sweet kiss I miss.
Black, as a coal with no fire,
I burn in a dark, flameless pyre.

The poem is 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.

Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.

PRAYER

“Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays.” - Soren Kierkegaard

The New What’s Going on Blog has set as its theme this week “Eternal/Unchanging”, a reflection on those things that last forever, those constant and reliable values, the dependable and unchanging ideas and feelings that we can turn to, especially so in times of strife. For many people, religion is such an eternal and unchanging cornerstone of life and prayer is the way we can approach all things spiritual and strive to become better people. Here is my poem:

Prayer

I greet You, fragrant damask rose,
With perfume that delights the nose;
I greet You basking in the morning sun
Your splendour is second to none.

Your softness, tenderness and grace
Matched by the beauty of Your face;
Your touch is to the wounded, balm,
Bringing to the afflicted calm…

O shining star in heaven bright,
You bring to desperate souls delight!
You ease the greatest pain and sorrow,
Bringing us hope and love each morrow.

You sing with sweet and quiet voice
Making every sad wretch rejoice;
You speak and every word you say
Holds each beating heart in sway.

You are our tender, giving Mother
With love and care like none other;
You give our spirit food and drink,
And to our mind much to bethink.

O Queen of heaven, Mary bright,
You bring to us your fulgent light!
You ease the greatest pain and sorrow,
Bringing us hope and love each morrow.

The poem is 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.

Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.

CELIA

“Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.” -  Frederick Douglass

The New What’s Going On blog has prompted about “In Uncertain Times”.  In our days, perhaps more than ever before, we are seeing a wave of inhumanity sweeping the world. It seems that most of the powerful countries have been swept by a rush of dystopic authoritarianism in which an all-powerful leader seizes the reins of government, supported by a small minority plutocracy.

The common people are becoming progressively poorer, powerless and unable to react in a meaningful and life-changing way. Demagogy and easily digested, rose-tinted lies convince the dwindling middle class “all is under control and our countries will become powerful, and the best in the world”. This assures the autocrat in power that he stays in power and has the population under control…

Even someone who is relatively well off, or frankly rich, and has a conscience can become lulled into a sense of false security and ignore the cries of help of those who have nothing. Maybe these well-meaning people are pacified by donations that they give to ostensibly genuine charity organisations, a lot of which are bogus and support a bevy of well-paid staff and corrupt CEOs.

Add to all of this, increasing violence, crime, drug use, abusive relationships, teenage delinquency and criminality, loosening morals and increasing selfishness with decreasing community-mindedness and we have a world that is tottering on the brink of total disaster… Meanwhile, Celia plays her ‘cello…

Celia

Celia plays the ‘cello
And the strains of Bach
Caress the celadon on the mantel,
Exquisitely.

Celia looks out on Central Park,
Knowing that in the cellar
Vintage wine is being cooled,
Appropriately.

Oh, Celia, open your eyes,
And your frozen heart thaw!
Your world is built with lies,
All is not comme-il-faut!

Celia plans her dinner party –
Crystal and silver, eggshell china;
Chantilly lace and damask all laid out – 
Beautifully…

Celia content, closes her eyes
And manages to spare a thought
For those who need her charity,
Condescendingly.

Oh, Celia, come on down
See how poor people live;
All’s not too well in town,
Your excess they won’t forgive

The poem is once again set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” Instagram feed or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify,  Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.

REQUIEM

“A requiem is meant to bring comfort.” - Mack Wilberg

The New What’s Going On blog is prompting about “Rest”. I’m sorry but my rest is rather restless, or rather, a rest that comes after great turmoil. A Requiem (Latin: rest) or Requiem Mass, also known as Mass for the dead (Latin: Missa pro defunctis) or Mass of the dead (Latin: Missa defunctorum), is a Mass of the Catholic Church offered for the repose of the souls of the deceased, using a particular form of the Roman Missal. This was the inspiration of my “Rest” poem.

Requiem

Requiem,
Requiem Aeternam…
Burying all traces of desire
Deep inside my withered body
I  cling to words;
And words my only comfort.
Interring deep in dark, dank soil
My heart’s small broken pieces
Images of my fantasies save me
From the grasping claws of madness.

Requiem Aeternam!

As earth envelops slowly all my hopes,
Requiem 
As the sun vanishes once again,
Requiem 
As the darkness claims me for her own.

Enshrouding dead dreams

In palls woven of crescent moonbeams
I clutch only a cold memory
Of an embrace long ago.
Inhuming my follies,
Your smile, your eyes, your body,
And only reason, mute written words,
And only silent words to save me.

Requiem Aeternam,
As dark night falls
Enclosing softly all my longings,
Requiem
As the illusion dies once again,
Requiem 
As the tears flow,
Only to freeze 
On my death-cold flesh.

Requiem Aeternam,

Requiem…
Eternal rest I crave!
My flesh to save,
As I dig my grave…
Requiem,
Requiem,
Requiem Aeternam...

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.

Please be aware that there may be a slight delay with the uploading of music on some of the above music sites. YouTube is usually the most rapid to upload.

ONCE MORE...

“The head learns new things, but the heart forever practices old experiences.” - Henry Ward Beecher

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something inspired by the quote: “Don’t be afraid to start over. This time you’re not starting from scratch, you’re starting from experience.” Here is my poem:

Once More…

Once more alone,
A silent phone.
All on my own…

After you left, there was an empty space,
With ghostly images wearing your face;
My heart a burnt out field, a vacant lot
Survival in a polar waste my only thought.

I closed myself up, built a protective wall
Excluded joys, songs, happinesses all.
Now by myself, how time drags and stops
And life expires, turns into a rotting corpse.

I’m all alone, beside a silent phone,
Nobody rings, nobody talks nor sings.
My house a tomb, each room in gloom,
My heart of ice, paying the price.

And then she came, and a sun ray shone,
Her voice so sweet with measured tone.
Whispered my name and made me hope
That maybe I could go on, live and cope…

Once more, my heart began to quickly beat
Once more, each morning I could dare to greet;
How such a fleeting glance renews desires,
How such a single word can light such fires?

I’m happy dating, by the phone waiting,
I know she’ll call, I’ll risk another fall;
For love again, a poisoned cup I’ll drain,
And roll the dice, and pay whatever price…

Walking a tightrope,
Once more I hope
That I will cope…

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.

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.

AWAKENING

“Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable.” -  Voltaire

This week, Poets and Storytellers United has as its theme: “Starting Over (Again and Again)”. It reminds me of a proverb I first heard from my grandfather, which said: “If you realise you’re on the wrong road, don’t mind how far down it you’ve gone, go back to the fork to find the right road and start walking on that again.” Here is my poem on that theme:

Awakening

Awaken, awaken,
Seize the day!

The long black night ends, at last
And I can banish all that’s past;
The new bright morning breaks gently
While my heart beats all the more intently…

Breaking free from chains of sorrow
I can look now at my tomorrow;
Awake, fly to heaven, oh my soul,
Escape from yesterday’s black hole.

Today, I have a chance at happiness again
My heart beats free, no longer in pain.
My arms are loosed from bonds and ties
Ready to stretch, to reach new highs.

Escaping from the prison dark,
I venture out, walking in the park;
The trees, the breeze, and golden sun
Are mine again, life’s just begun.

The sky’s fresh painted a happy blue;
I’m ready now to see the world anew,

My eyes wide open, bright and grateful,

Seeing nothing evil, bitter or hateful.

Today, I have a chance at happiness again
My heart beats free, no longer in pain.
My arms are loosed from bonds and ties
Ready to stretch, to reach new highs.

Awaken, awaken
Seize the day!

And once again, 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.

ACTIVATE!

“Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but through persistence.” – Ovid

The New What’s Going On Blog has given the challenge this week of writing about making a statement about asserting one’s rights, fighting for freedom, raising one’s voice and become active in bringing about change in a world that is unfair, unjust and steeped in inequality. It is a message of becoming united with fellow sufferers and making wrong things right. Here is my offering:

Activate

Get up, and mobilise, 

It’s time to verbalise

And voice your discontent!

We live in times that stress us

Have leaders that distress us,

And lifestyles that aggress us,

Depress, and downright regress us!

Get up, and mobilise, 

It’s time to verbalise

And voice your discontent!

Your silence means consent,

So, talk! Talk loud, talk clear

This is no time for fear!

Our time has come to shine,

Our strategy streamline,

To organise, combine,

Draw on the sand our line.

Get up, and organise, 

It’s time to verbalise

And voice your discontent!

Your silence means consent,

So, talk! Talk loud, talk clear

This is no time for fear!

Get up, and march together, 

In any place or weather,

It’s time to change for better,

To free and to unfetter.

And seeing that it was a song that was given as an example to be inspired by, I set the above poem to music and you can listen to it in my “Otidorchestre” channel on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.

NOCTURNE

“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” - Plato

Poets and Storytellers United this week asks us to “pick a picture and write about it”. What has inspired me is a painting by Henri Rousseau, the French naïf artist, called “The Snake Charmer”. It is done in his signature style and is a wonderful mysterious image, all about the power of music.

And since it’s all about music, you can hear this poem set to music in my “Otidorchestre” sites on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, etc.

Nocturne

In the stillness of the night

To the silvern moon’s delight

Sweetly does the flute resound

Spilling music all around.

Ebon skin and hair that shimmers

Shiny glance that softly glimmers,

Sinuous and sweet’s the air

Luring beasts from out their lair.

Music makes the jungle tame

Calms and yet ignites a flame.

Music soothes the savage beast

Rouses passions in the priest.

Neath the moon’s resplendent orb

Flowers music’s strains absorb.

Snakes start to slither, slide,

Right up to the flautist glide.

She charms serpent, beast and bird

With her music not her word;

Now the snakes around her creep

Up they climb, roused from sleep.

Music heals the deepest wound

Makes the air around perfumed.

Music calls to arms and strife,

Yet assassins drop their knife.

And each gentle leaf unfurls,

Flower twines and softly curls;

As the music upwards floats

Rhythm, melody, sweet notes.

In the stillness of the night

To the silvern moon’s delight

Sweetly does the flute resound

Spilling music all around.

TRAVEL TUESDAY 490 - MT OLYMPUS, GREECE

“When one with honeyed words but evil mind Persuades the mob, great woes befall the state.” ― Euripides, ‘Orestes’

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 Olympus (Greek: Όλυμπος, romanized: Ólympos,) is an extensive massif near the Thermaic Gulf of the Aegean Sea, located on the border between Thessaly and Macedonia, between the regional units of Larissa and Pieria, about 80 km southwest from Thessaloniki. Mount Olympus has 52 peaks and deep gorges. The highest peak, Mytikas (Μύτικας Mýtikas), meaning "nose", rises to 2,917.727 metres and is the highest peak in Greece, and one of the highest peaks in Europe in terms of topographic prominence.

In Greek mythology, Olympus is the home of the Greek gods, on Mytikas peak. The mountain has exceptional biodiversity and rich flora. It has been a National Park, the first in Greece, since 1938. It is also a World Biosphere Reserve. Olympus remains the most popular hiking summit in Greece, as well as one of the most popular in Europe. Organised mountain refuges and various mountaineering and climbing routes are available. The usual starting point is the town of Litochoro which lies in the eastern foothills of the mountain, some 100 km from Thessaloniki.

Taking the opportunity today to direct your attention to the Greek entry for this year’s Eurovision Song Contest. It is sung by Klavdia and is called “Asteromáta” (Starry-eyed one). It’s a beautiful song and Klavdia has a rich, expressive and lucid voice. The song is about loss - loss of loved ones, loss of one’s homeland and loss of all things that one holds dear.

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Click here to enter

TRAVEL TUESDAY 310 - COLMAR, FRANCE

“Germany has solemnly recognised and guaranteed France her frontiers as determined after the Saar plebiscite ... We thereby finally renounced all claims to Alsace-Lorraine, a land for which we have fought two great wars.: - Adolf Hitler

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 shall be removed immediately.

Colmar (German between 1871–1918 and 1940–1945: Kolmar) is the third-largest commune of the Alsace region in north-eastern France. It is the seat of the prefecture of the Haut-Rhin department and the arrondissement of Colmar-Ribeauvillé. The town is situated on the Alsatian Wine Route and considers itself to be the “capital of Alsatian wine” (capitale des vins d’Alsace).

The city is renowned for its well -preserved old town, its numerous architectural landmarks and its museums, among which is the Unterlinden Museum with the Isenheim Altarpiece. Colmar’s secular and religious architectural landmarks reflect eight centuries of Germanic and French architecture and the adaptation of their respective stylistic language to the local customs and building materials (pink and yellow Vosges sandstone, timber framing).

Colmar is an affluent city whose primary economic strength lies in the flourishing tourist industry. Every year since 1947, Colmar is host to what is now considered as the biggest annual commercial event as well as the largest festival in Alsace, the Foire aux vins d’Alsace (Alsatian wine fair). Since 1980, Colmar is home to an international summer festival of classical music Festival de Colmar (also known as Festival international de musique classique de Colmar). In its first version (1980 to 1989), it was placed under the artistic direction of the German conductor Karl Münchinger. Since 1989, it is helmed by the Russian violinist and conductor Vladimir Spivakov.

This post is part of the Our World Tuesday meme,
and also part of the Ruby Tuesday meme,
and also part of the Wordless Wednesday meme.

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TRAVEL TUESDAY 240 - DOVER, UK

“There’ll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see…” – Vera Lynn (lyrics by Nat Burton)

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.

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The White Cliffs of Dover are cliffs that form part of the English coastline facing the Strait of Dover and France. The cliffs are part of the North Downs formation. The cliff face, which reaches up to 110 m, owes its striking appearance to its composition of chalk accented by streaks of black flint. The cliffs stretch along the coastline for 13 km, spreading east and west from the town of Dover in the county of Kent, an ancient and still important English port.

The cliffs have great symbolic value in Britain because they face towards continental Europe across the narrowest part of the English Channel, where invasions have historically threatened and against which the cliffs form a symbolic guard. The National Trust calls the cliffs “an icon of Britain”, with “the white chalk face a symbol of home and war time defence.” Because crossing at Dover was the primary route to the continent before the advent of air travel, the white line of cliffs also formed the first or last sight of Britain for travellers. In World War II, thousands of allied troops on the little ships in the Dunkirk evacuation saw the welcoming sight of the cliffs.

This post is part of the Our World Tuesday meme,

and also part of the Wordless Wednesday meme.

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