SOLOMON'S LIES

“The classic ‘seven-year itch’ may not be a case of familiarity breeding ennui and contempt, but the shock of having someone you thought you knew all too well suddenly seem a stranger. When that happens, you are compelled to either recommit or get the hell out. There are many such times in a marriage.” ― Kathleen Norris

The New What’s Going On blog has set this theme this week: “Ten Years Later”. In psychology, the term “seven-year itch” describes a period of restlessness or dissatisfaction that couples may face after several years of living  together. Studies show that divorce rates often peak between the fifth and eighth years of marriage. Experts suggest this “itch” is often a result of the “honeymoon phase” wearing off, combined with the pressures of raising children or financial stress. On that theme, here is my poem:

Solomon’s Lies

Ah, Love!
Sweet love…

He says he loves me as he looks at me;
He says I’m beautiful as he kisses me;
His hands caress me gently, as he smiles…
And yet, his heart is growing cold,
His thoughts already distant.

He says my name, his lips so red;
He calls out to me, his teeth so white;
In his embrace, I feel so warm, so safe…
And yet his heart beats slowly,
His soul already gone, flown away.

Oh, love, how bittersweet you are,
You give me joy, you give me pains…
Oh, love, how hard and how bizarre,
Your sun shines bright, and then it rains…
Oh, love, you lie with bitter truths
And in truth you hide sweet lies…

He leaves and says that he’ll be back;
He goes away and takes his heart;
His eyes grow dark and dull.
I look at him, as he hurries away,
And yet, he doesn’t glance back.

He gives his heart to another,
His soft whisperings in her ears;
She smiles as she believes him,
And gives him her soul, as I did…
Gives him her heart, as I did…

Oh, love, how bittersweet you are,
You give me joy, you give me pains…
Oh, love, how hard and how bizarre,
Your sun shines bright, and then it rains…
Oh, love, you lie with bitter truths
And in truth you hide sweet lies…

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 there is delay between uploading the song onto the digital music platforms, so persist in hunting it down if you wish to listen to it.

MACHINATIONS

“Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Walk beside me, just be my friend” ― Albert Camus

The New What’s Going On blog has set this theme this week: “Let's challenge ourselves to write about "women" or "a woman" in a new way, a way we have not done before.”, which celebrates March as Women’s History Month. My poem is rather complex as it looks at stereotypes in relationships, a perspective that is still widespread, despite the feminist activism paradigms, the attempts at promoting equality of the sexes, and even legislation that attempts to correct inequalities and give the same rights and opportunities to both sexes.

Machinations

I try to find a way around your secret machinations
A road that will lead me to your hidden stations;
Disarm your ploys and ways you betray my trust,
Regain control and again master my fate — I must.

Your clever plans, your covert sly manipulations
Your false sweet words your fervent declarations;
I need to show up your lies, expose your treachery,
Reveal your useless pretence, and your lechery.

And yet I love you, mindlessly, with all my heart,
My reason lost and only pure emotion taking part;
I know you’re bad and want to leave you, go away,
But my heart dictates what I do, and so I stay…

How well you set your crafty traps and hunt me down,
I fall into your murky waters and each time I die, I drown;
I know that following you, I’ll cry and suffer pain
And yet I bind myself each time to your iron chain.

I try to open the door, walk out, and from you escape,
My strength I lose, when I see your image take shape;
I need to build defences, close my eyes, stop my ears,
But always your presence I abide, I smile through my tears.

I love you doggedly, with all the pieces of my broken heart,
Despite your cold indifference I cannot go, cannot depart.
I know you’re bad and want to leave you, go away,
But my heart dictates what I do and so I stay…

I stay and as my soul will one day wither and expire,
My love will turn to coldness and will burn you with a frigid fire.
I’ll leave you and will efface all bearing your semblance,
Forget you and destroy every trace of your remembrance.

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

Please note there is delay between uploading the song onto the digital music platforms, so persist in hunting it down if you wish to listen to it.

THE INK

“I have owed you this letter for a very long time-but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.” - John Steinbeck

The New What’s Going On blog has set as its theme the double whammy of “Unspoken -or-  Unwritten”. Here is my take on something that one would have preferred to have remained unwritten… A break-up letter is perhaps the worst thing one has to read and in many cases one would rather that it remained unwritten. My offering, is a blank verse translation of a Greek poem I’ve written, that has been set to music.

The Ink

Black ink, white paper,
A letter that has been written
Opened many wounds
And gave me great pain.

Words like knives that stab,
Words like sticks that beat me;
Paper spread white like a shroud
Stained black by the ink.

You left me and you took
The sounds with you,
Music will not play any more.
Surrounded by four walls
My heart is now broken.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.

My life is now inky black
All your words were lies
Covering all like a white sheet
Leaving only my loneliness exposed.

The ink spills all over my future,
Blackening all, wounding me,
All my pages now black,
All my gifts to you given in vain.

You left one night like a thief,
And now I wander alone;
You made so many mistakes
You were in the wrong,
But I still smell your perfume.
You left and wrote me a letter
Your love was a false specter.

The Greek 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.

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.

WHITE

“Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.” - Hermann Hesse

This week, The New What’s Going Blog has set as its theme: “Letting Go”. I think that letting go of a relationship that is over and done with is a very difficult thing to do. However, unless we gather enough strength to let go, we cannot move forward, and of course cannot open ourselves up to a new relationship… Here is my poem (and song!) on precisely that.

White

My tablet’s scraped clean;
My life a palimpsest keen
New scripts to receive.
A page bleached, all blank
So white, so frank…
The past behind to leave.

I start again, hope dressed in white
Showing me paths to futures bright;
I throw all painful memories away,
And bold, I face each new day.

The sun is shining, candid above
It lights the world, fills it with love;
My heart now dares faster to beat
Wakened by Spring’s soft heat.

New love, all innocent and pale,
Grows tender, burgeons quick,
Enters my every fibre to assail;
And lights my soul’s spent wick.
On milky white page, so clean
A new story to write I’m keen…

Your snowy hand I want to hold,
My burning love to warm its cold;
Your heart vulnerable to render
Your castle strong to make surrender.

Let’s live a love that’s strong
Beautiful as a sweet song;
Through a prism our white
Will myriads of colours light.

New love, all innocent and pale,
Grows tender, burgeons quick,
Enters my every fibre to assail;
And lights my soul’s spent wick.
On milky white page, so clean
A new story to write I’m keen…

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

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.

TWILIGHT LULLABY

“Every gift which is given, even though it be small, is in reality great, if it is given with affection.” - Pindar

The New What’s Going Blog has set as its theme today: “Twilight Magic”. My poem below is a lullaby that centres on a mother trying to get her baby to sleep at twilight time. For those amongst you who celebrate Christmas, the symbolism is not lost. May I  also take the opportunity to wish a peaceful and serene feast day amongst those whom you love.

Twilight Lullaby

Ahhhhh
La la lay
La  lay lullay 
La La la.

Sleep little baby sleep…
All’s good no need to weep.
Your mummy’s here
You’re her precious dear.

La la lay
La  lay lullay 
La La la.

Sleep little baby sleep…
All’s good no need to weep.
Sleep tight and dream
Of strawberries and cream…

La la lay
La  lay lullay 
La La la.

Sleep little baby sleep…
All’s good no need to weep.
Daddy loves you too,
He’ll come and play with you…

La la lay
La  lay lullay 

La La la.

Sleep little baby sleep…
All’s good no need to weep.
You’re safe and loved so much
Feel  my light, sweet touch…

La la lay
La  lay lullay 
La La la.

Sleep, as gentle twilight 
Comes, all is all right…
Sleep little baby sleep…
All’s good no need to weep.
As light dims, you’ll dream 
Of morning’s gleam…
La  lay lullay 
La La la

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

BRIGHT NIGHT

“Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.” - Calvin Coolidge

Poets and Storytellers this week has set as its theme “In Between”. This is appropriate for the ending of the year and that cluster of holidays between the old and new year. Christmas of course figures prominently and my poem is in the form of a carol that celebrates the religious aspect of this important Christian holiday.

Bright Night

The snow has fallen thick and white,
The cold is keen, the trees all bare;
A sky so full of stars so bright,
A night so gentle, still’s the air.

The shepherds doze, quiet their sheep,
The town deserted, all lights are out;
In warm beds people fast asleep
A stillness reigns, no sound about.

And suddenly, an angel down flies
A brilliant star lights up the skies!
A chorus of seraphs sings a hymn
To welcome the newborn King!
Sing hallelujah, up on high,
The birds wake up and fly,
Sing hallelujah, up on high!

The Mother holds Her Son so tight,
The cattle low, their breath so calm,
The Baby’s face so peaceful, bright;
All listen charmed to holy psalm.

The shepherds dazed approach,
And angels keep watch alert;
The animals nearby encroach,
All danger wanting to avert.

And lo, three men come in and bow, 
Their garments rich, with gifts in tow.
Gold, frankincense and myrrh they give,
The Baby’s kingship they don’t misgive.
Sing hallelujah, up on high,
A glimpse of heaven in the sky,
Sing hallelujah, up on high!

The night with mystery is filled,
The stars the sky golden gild;
The King of peace and light is born
Angels the poor stable adorn.
Sing hallelujah, up on high,
A glimpse of heaven in the sky,
Sing hallelujah, up on high.

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

SWEET MEMORY

“The eternal quest of the individual human being is to shatter his loneliness.” - Norman Cousins

The New What’s Going on Blog has prompted us to write a poem about loneliness without using the words "lonely" or "alone." The poem below refers to a memory of a lonely time and of a long walk in the dead of night in a foreign country… The feeling of isolation, away from loved ones, away from the one person who mattered most and who failed to be with you, the sense of absence and loss, are all expressed in this poem.

Sweet Memory

The secret, subtle scent of yellow rose
That has no perfume - still pleases the nose…
Trembling reflections of yellow gas light
In the still waters of the canal at night;
A shiver of the whispering linden leaves
As they catch gasps of wind under the eaves,
Sweet memory, don’t ever leave me...

The darkened room, a creaking ceiling,
Long shadows, emptiness; no feeling.
Sounds of barely heard soft music far away,
Shimmering strings, pianissimo they play.
A lapping of tongues as water licks
The dark canal wall’s old red bricks,
Sweet memory, never desert me…

And you so far away from me tonight,
Only your memory fuels my heart’s plight;
I hold the pain, how I wished you to believe me,
Sweet memory, unlike her, don’t ever leave me...

Sputtering candle, the spent black wick
Burning unsurely, licking the base of candlestick;
Hours, days, years that pass, bluntly avow
That death approaches so very quickly, now;
A sound of childish laughter sounds hollow
On the wings of distant morning, I cannot follow.
Sweet memory, don’t ever abandon me...

The tears of long ago, re-wept tonight
As memory persists and gives me blight
Steel pincers of memory crushing my heart,
Relentless as their manoeuvres start;
Taste of bitter poisons in my mouth wallow
Clutch at my throat, burn me as I swallow
Sweet draughts of memory that will never go away…

And you so far away from me tonight,
Only your memory fuels my heart’s plight;
I hold the pain, how I wished you to believe me,
Sweet memory, unlike her,  don’t ever leave me…

The poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” Instagram 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.

BLOW, WIND...

“The man who has experienced shipwreck shudders even at a calm sea.” -  Ovid

Poets and Storytellers this week invites us to find inspiration in the titles of Florence + The Machine’s latest album, 'Everybody Scream'. I was not aware of this group’s music until I read the prompt and I had to go and listen to a few songs. Even though theirs is not a genre that I am particularly fond of, the setting of some of the video clips was particularly inspiring. And Love of course is always a good prompt. The wild Northern landscapes inspired my poem as a folk song, and it is set as such in my appended song…

Blow Wind…

Blow, wind, blow gently
Sweet zephyr, blow…

My fairest love is far away,
And far from her I have to stay;
I long for her caresses
The perfume of her tresses…

Her eyes wide open smiling
Her ruby lips beguiling;
I long to have her in my arms,
Surrender to her charms…

Blow, wind, blow tender breezes
Caress her as she pleases;
Shine sun, and gentle moon,
And give to her my boon:
My earnest kiss so sweet
Tell her that soon we’ll meet.

My fairest love is sleeping,
And in her dreams is keeping
Our sacred, solemn troth
Embroidered on rich cloth.

Her breast is gently heaving
In sleep she is believing,
That soon we’ll be together
Despite the raging weather.

Stop, wind, stop storm and gale
My ship do not assail,
Rain, woeful waterspout,
My ship don’t knock about;
My love is dreaming, waiting,
This storm need be abating.

Wind, why do you blow so wild?
Why have you sea defiled?
Why waves so high you raise,
Why do my craft you raze?
In the blue ocean depth,
Tell her I love, even in death.

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.

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.

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.

STARRY NIGHT

“I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.” - Dwight D. Eisenhower

The New What’s Going On Blog has set as its theme today "ekphrastic poetry”. I have used one of my paintings, which was inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, but brought up to date as it were, considering the number of wars and conflicts that are raging around the world at the present time. Some of us may be lucky enough to sleep and rest in a country at peace, but we must not forget how many people are living in the hell of combat - sleep and rest being only an unattainable dream…

Starry Night

Heavens are vivid, clear tonight
The golden stars are blazing bright;
We watch transfixed and glorify
The Maker’s grace that gave us sky.

The city sleeps content and still,
As sleeper’s dreams with pleasure fill.
Nightbirds sound the hours’ passing
And distant music sleep trespassing.

Calmness of peace awards us rest
And every child is quiet, blessed.
The moon looks down and sweetly smiles
Surveys the countryside around for miles.

Heaven is burning hot tonight,
Alight with violent fires that smite;
The missiles fall, explode and strike
King, peasant, young and old alike.

The city is embraced by a wild panic
All go to shelters, running manic;
Explosions, screams, war cries resound
Even in cellars deep, far underground.

Fury of battle and warmongers’ folly
Make every soul dire, melancholy;
Ashamed, the moon hides in the clouds
Wrapping herself in smoky shrouds.

Oh, foolish, crazy, deluded human,
Why peace forsake and become inhuman?
Your days are short, so very dear
Why waste them only to live in fear?

The poem is set to music again, 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 some delay in publication of music on these platforms and generally the fastest publication is on YouTube, however, they will all make the music available within a few days.

VALE, JANE GOODALL

“We have enslaved the rest of the animal creation, and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that beyond doubt, if they were able to formulate a religion, they would depict the Devil in human form.” - William Inge

This week, the New What’s Up blog commemorates the life and death of Jane Goodall, a primatologist and anthropologist who dedicated her life to studying primates and advocating conservation and climate action. Here is my offering.

Talk to the Animals

To treat each living thing
As if your life depends on it
Is a hard task, and few of us
Try to live by such a rule
And hope to succeed.

Living, respecting nature,
Trying to leave this world
A better place than what you found,
Is a life-long commitment
And one peppered with failures.

To live your life in harmony
With what’s around you:
Trees, animals, lakes, streams,
Sea, fish, air and earth,
Is a momentous undertaking.

Yet, so many amongst us
Venture forth and dedicate
Their life to doing good,
Saving the bounty given us
With utmost care and stewardship.

Thank those angels on earth,
Who came and tried to save us:
Jane, David, Jacques, Ralph,
Chief Seattle, Theodore, Wangari,
Rachel, Chico, Margaret…

Talk to the animals and learn,
To do what comes naturally,
No waste, no undue harm,
No ravaging of earth’s resources,
A web of life, perpetuating life...

OUR FAVOURITE TOYS

“Child labor and poverty are inevitably bound together and if you continue to use the labor of children as the treatment for the social disease of poverty, you will have both poverty and child labor to the end of time.” - Grace Abbott

Poets and Storytellers this week has given us the theme of “Brothers and Sisters” to write about. I’m always struck by the huge size of families in countries where poverty is the rule. And yet it seems that those big families of many children are happy in their misfortune, and it is touching to see how the siblings look after one another with love and affection.

Our Favourite Toys

A hard life our lot, where every day is a struggle,
Where putting bread on the table is hard labour,
Where drinking water is never taken for granted:
A life that cheats death every day.

A hard existence, where everyone works
To eke out a living, and children grow up early,
To till the barren soil, trying to raise a meagre crop:
A life that gives pleasures rarely.

A poor man’s lot, where bitter food is eaten greedily,
Where hunger never goes away completely, and disease kills,
Where most children never get a chance to grow up:
A life of want gratefully stopped short.

Our favourite toys:
A ball of rags kicked stealthily, in between chores;
Worn plastic containers, no good for reuse,
Grabbed avidly, to make toy houses, cars and drums to beat:
In secret, while we steal a few moments to play.

Sticks, pebbles, twigs – and if you’re lucky –
An old bicycle wheel, to make of them whatever
Your boundless imagination desires,
Rubbish transformed into wondrous things;
And most precious of all:
Your kid sister a living doll to care for…

BLESSED ARE THEY...

“Power is no blessing in itself, except when it is used to protect the innocent.” - Jonathan Swift

The New What’s Going On Blog has set as its theme the topic of “weariness”. A feeling familiar to all of us who have trouble dealing with modern days and the worldwide status quo… All of us who feel desperate, despondent, frustrated, downhearted, miserable, and yes downright exhausted and weary. Fatigued in spite of all of our attempts to right the wrongs, and make the crooked straight. My poem gives perhaps a little rest, respite and blessings to all of the dog-tired humanity who still try to make the injured world a better place, despite all odds…

Blessed Are They…

Who in adversity find hope,
And who in hardship cope
With endless woe and ill –
Who out of blackness, light distill.

Who even in injury forgive,
Finding courage to live and let live.
In meekness, their strength’s untold
They stand tall, resolute and bold.

Who have the energy to love
Even all those unworthy of
A sentiment so noble, tender;
Their own heart ready to surrender.

Who trust and still believe
All those who seek reprieve;
Who credit all of base humanity
With virtues that preserve sanity.

Who strive for peace and calm
And who on injuries pour balm;
Giving repose to all who are tired,
The sweetest respite they’ve desired.

Who make the crooked run straight
And the trivial things be great;
Who have humility, patience, charity
Giving their all with grace and verity.

THE AUTUMN FULL MOON

“No man can taste the fruits of Autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of Spring.” - Samuel Johnson

Poets and storytellers this week is titled “Hello, Fall”. Within that theme, I should mention that in Australia, our Autumn is during the  months of March, April, May, quite the opposite of the Northern Hemisphere. The majority of our population here is of a Northern Hemisphere heritage and all the seasonal holidays we observe are topsy-turvy! More so, if one is a recent arrival here, when these back-the-front seasons are quite startling. My poem takes that into account…

The Autumn Full Moon

Gazing at the clear sky on this Spring night
And looking at the full moon of September,
A distant northern Autumn I remember
When you were near, and your eyes were bright.

The stars are sparkling and the garden fragrant
The night is cool and air crisp as a crystal bell.
Spring flowers bright, in moonlight flagrant
But memory’s fallen leaves sad tales will tell.

Tell me pale Moon, does she too gaze on you tonight?
Could she perhaps be thinking of me, in your silver light?

We shared a moon cake under full moon’s light
And laughed as Autumn winds blew candles out;
Now I can find no trace of you about –
I loved, you left, the moon’s the mistress of the night.

The Autumn full moon in Spring is mocking
My thoughts, remembrances, feelings frozen;
My life so empty, and your absence shocking
This lonely path we tread as we have chosen.

Tell me pale Moon, does she too gaze on you tonight?
Could she perhaps be thinking of me, in your silver light?

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.

THE WORDS I WRITE

“To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.” - Victor Hugo

Poets and storytellers this week is all about revisiting “Old Favourites”, and within that context I have chosen “Beloved Books”. I have about 20,000 books, which I have been collecting since I began to read — precociously, as I was taught to read by my mother before I went to school. Some of these books are in several rooms in my house, some in my mother’s house, a few in storage (as there is no more space, but I cannot part with them…). Yes, I am Nick and I am a bibliophile… And it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to ever kick that addiction!

When you read a book, and begin to gobble up those written words, hearing their sounds, forming mental images, experiencing emotions, devouring the plot, learning new things, taking pleasure in that simple act of reading, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be illiterate? When I was about 20 years old I travelled to Egypt, alone. I went up the Nile and ended up in Aswan. At that time, it was not very touristic and there were very few people speaking English, a few that spoke a little French (and with whom I was able to communicate more or less). But as far as the written word was concerned, I had trouble finding anything written in English or French, for that matter. All was Arabic! That lovely flowing, calligraphic, drawn out, wonderfully squiggly script that looked fantastic, but made no sense whatsoever to me! I then realised what it would be like to be illiterate!

Here’s a poem about the joys of literacy. And if you can read thank your teacher, thank your lucky stars for even now in the 21st century, it is estimated that approximately 750 million adults globally lack basic reading and writing skills, with two-thirds of them being women, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa and Southern Asia…

The Words I Write

The words I write are full of gratitude,

Each rounded letter a thank you,

Each line a heartfelt appreciation

Of my teachers’ tireless persistence.

The pages I read are full of knowledge,

Each word a bird in flight,

Each phrase a new friend, a new acquaintance

Met in distant places, wandering through fabled cities.

The books I read are full of pleasure,

Each page full of new-felt emotion and senses;

Each sentence a laugh, some tears,

Some gentleness, some fiery argument.

The verse I write is full of thought and heart,

Of pain and joy, of brain and soul, love, friendship.

I write and read, and with unconscious ease effortlessly

Take for granted this precious gift of literacy.

I thank my luck for this privilege, this gift of providence,

That I was amongst the chosen to experience

This mystery of written word, of imprisoned sound,

Of captured language and word-pictures.

The present of literature, the happiness of calligraphy

The indulgence of a memoir, the work of words,

The magic of communication,

This richness of script.

No song this week. Just read the poem!

THE LONG RIBBON OF THE ROAD

It's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. E. L. Doctorow

This week, the New What’s Going On blog has given the theme of “Through the Windshield” - something to do with cars, obviously! Here is my offering:

The Long Ribbon of the Road

I count the minutes as they pass
The road stretches ahead,
An endless ribbon unfurling.
I count the seconds as they linger on
The dark, long road heartless,
The miles to you unending.

My burning love for you fuels my drive
Although it seems I’ll never arrive…
My teary eyes, mirror the rain falling,
Its sound it seems my name is calling.
Your face remembered, pulls me to you,
Even if I sink and drown in your black bayou.

The long ribbon of the road
Unwinds and mocks my speed,
As I attempt to catch the ribbon’s end.
The endless road stretches forever,
And like its dark ribbon up ahead,
My love for you is inexhaustible,

My beating heart, for you will falter
Although the love it hides won’t alter.
My raspy breath, my fevered brow,
The shaking trees, the branches sough. 
Your touch remembered, pulls me to you,
Even if I sink and drown in your black bayou.

Time drags as the road forever runs
And in the night I speed faster and faster;
I weather storms, battle with windmills,
Cheat hours, lie to myself, lose my reason;
Swallow my pride, pretend I’m in control,
Just to be in your embrace for a single stolen night.

My burning love for you fuels my drive
Although it seems I’ll never arrive…
My teary eyes, mirror the rain falling,
Its sound it seems my name is calling.
Your face remembered, pulls me to you,
Even if I sink and drown in your black bayou.

The poem is set to music again, 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.

THAT LITTLE SOMETHING...

“Only do what your heart tells you.” - Princess Diana

This week, Poets and Storytellers United asked us to write on something small but beautiful. What smaller than the dawning of first love? Something that we’ve never felt before and which starts as an insignificant little nothing that becomes something? That little spark that becomes a flame, and then an all-consuming fire?

That Little Something

What a feeling... Almost nothing,
In my mind and in my heart.
It is nothing or it’s something;
But it makes me jump and start...

What could I be lacking now?
What I need, and what I want,
Would my sweetest fate allow?
Or its lack my dreams to haunt?

Is it hunger, is it thirst?
No, my stomach wildly turns;
What to wish for, should I, first?

Ease of mind, for which it yearns?
Or peace of heart, about to burst?
What a feeling... How it burns!

What a feeling... Almost nothing,
In my mind and in my heart.
It is nothing or it’s something;
But it makes me jump and start...

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