“It is cruel,
you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of
pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied
love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony.” -
Benjamin Britten
A Charlotte Gainsbourg image is what Magpie Tales has selected for us this week in order to inspire us and get the creative juices flowing. The connection with music is inescapable. Here is what I came up with:
A Charlotte Gainsbourg image is what Magpie Tales has selected for us this week in order to inspire us and get the creative juices flowing. The connection with music is inescapable. Here is what I came up with:
Echoes
of Soundless Musics
When you left, you know,
You took the record player with you
But left me all the records;
They silently proclaim
Words and music
That used to be the food of love.
In the long stilnesses of empty rooms
I can still hear clearly each track,
Complete with crackles,
Each scratch remembered
Amidst the echoes of our laughter
And the basset tones of your voice.
I touch the record covers,
Caressing the smoothness
Of the multicoloured glazed card;
A memory of your skin perhaps,
Cool, smooth and promising much,
Just as any cover should do.
When you left, you know,
You took all with you
That was easily portable;
The record player useless
Without the records,
While they still play for me:
Each image a trigger,
Each touch a memory
Each silent playback,
A sumptuous dish –
Sustaining my love,
For music is its food…
When you left, you know,
You took the record player with you
But left me all the records;
They silently proclaim
Words and music
That used to be the food of love.
In the long stilnesses of empty rooms
I can still hear clearly each track,
Complete with crackles,
Each scratch remembered
Amidst the echoes of our laughter
And the basset tones of your voice.
I touch the record covers,
Caressing the smoothness
Of the multicoloured glazed card;
A memory of your skin perhaps,
Cool, smooth and promising much,
Just as any cover should do.
When you left, you know,
You took all with you
That was easily portable;
The record player useless
Without the records,
While they still play for me:
Each image a trigger,
Each touch a memory
Each silent playback,
A sumptuous dish –
Sustaining my love,
For music is its food…
I feel your pain in these lovely wrods Nicholas....I feel your pain! :-)
ReplyDeletemy god my chest! you cant write such things. they hit too deeply
ReplyDeleteWhen the missing one lives in one's thoughts... Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteMy goodness ... one of the best this week!!!
ReplyDeleteRomantic and lovely...I like the part about the album jacket being like her skin...
ReplyDeletenicely done Nicholas....thanks for sharing your words
ReplyDeleteCan't decide whether my earlier comment attempt failed, or whether you have moderation on! If so, you'll see it anyway - if not - sorry Blogger goofed again! :)
ReplyDeletePainfully and utterly beautiful! The reference to music being the food of love is magic.
ReplyDelete