LOVE

“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” - Aristotle

Today, quite aptly for Valentine’s Day, Poets and Storytellers United has as its theme “Love, Glorious Love”. Here is my offering, which is a blank verse translation of a Greek poem I’ve written, that has been set to music.

Body with Body

This body which you touch,
This perfume that you smell,
Are now yours and only yours,
I’ve given them to you as gifts.

These lips which you kiss,
My eyes that you gaze into,
Are yours and only yours now,
Forever yours for all time.

This heart beating in my breast,
While my soul keeps silent,
Is full of love for you,
Walking on a secret, hidden path.

Body with body mingling
Is a harbour to shelter in;
Kiss upon kiss given
Is like drinking sweet wine.
Caress upon caress offered
Is like a tree in spring blossoming.

The words that you speak softly
Are sweet, joyous secrets
That caress the ears gently,
While I’m in your warm embrace.

All of my being is here with you,
I celebrate, I smile, I sing;
And time flies, and passes,
Gifting us only joys.

This heart fluttering, thrilling,
Looks at us with closed eyes;
Because love is all-seeing
Love is all-changing and renewing.

Body with body mingling
Is a harbour to shelter in;
Kiss upon kiss given
Is like drinking sweet wine.
Caress upon caress offered
Is like a spring tree blossoming.

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

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.

SPRING FUNERAL

“The darkness of death is like the evening twilight; it makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying.” - Jean Paul

Poets and Storytellers this week is asking us to take inspiration from what we like about the dark. Darkness is a state of mind that can manifest itself in the full sunlight of Summer or in the flowery extravagances of Spring. It can be felt amidst a happy gathering at a party or the joyous shouts of children playing. If the dark is within us, it can be difficult to escape from it. I remember an interview that Reba Mcintire gave and she said something like: “For me, singing sad songs often has a way of healing a situation. It gets the hurt out in the open into the light, out of the darkness.” Here is my dark, sad song:

Spring Funeral

A funeral in Spring,
Much pain will bring;
Spring comes, nears,
Raining bitter tears…

Spring wakes deep in earth the sodden seeds
Making more acute my pressing needs;
The rain that gently falls will wash me clean
No more will I my painful memories glean.

I loved you such a long time ago
And yet I chose dreams to forego.

The greenwood leaves unfurl and open fresh
The breeze still cool, tempers my burning flesh;
Desires, passions, loves I bury deep in earth
Path chosen, heart dies, mind more is worth.

I loved you such a long time ago
But now allegro turns to largo.

As flowers fresh are laid by a new dug grave
Your thinly disguised betrayal I forgave;
The falling night will usher in the stars
Silence – except for mournful cries of nightjars.

I loved you such a long time ago
Now where to turn? To whom to go?

The poem is set to music, and you can find an index of 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.

HALLOWEEN

“A grandmother pretends she doesn't know who you are on Halloween.” - Erma Bombeck

The Poets and Storytellers blog has chosen the apt theme of “Halloween” this week. Here is my contribution:

Halloween

It’s a dark, scary night
Halloween is tonight –
All the ghoulies are out
All the ghosties about…

With a crick and a crack
And a tap on my back
I’m trembling and shaking, 
A-fearing and quaking.

It’s a night of the fey
Take care not to stray,
All the witches do sport 
All the fiends do cavort.

With a quick step I tread
With a bat on my head:
It’s shrieking and squeaking
And victims it’s seeking.

It’s the dark, stormy night
Of the hag and the sprite –
All the zombies parade,
All the children afraid.

With a shudder and shake
Until dawn wide awake,
I’m quietly abiding
In the dark hiding.

It’s the night full of screams
And of horrible dreams – 
All the spectres take flight
All the banshees delight.

With a sob and a sigh
With a throb and a cry,
I’m shuddering, shivering
Queasily quivering
It’s Halloween!

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.

APRIL

“A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.” -  e. e. cummings

Poets and Storytellers this week has as its theme “October”. That is all very well in the Northern Hemisphere, where it is Autumn, but here in the Southern Hemisphere October is a Spring month and our equivalent autumnal month is April. Hence, with poetic licence, here is my autumnal April poem.

April

Ahhh, April,
Welcome, friend…

Come, April, my old friend, again
Let’s talk, let us exchange pleasantries.
You bring me gifts - more white hairs,
More experience, my wrinkling face the evidence,
And yet I am none the wiser...

Come friend, let’s drink, and in our cups
Let’s reminisce of days gone by,
Of nights long past, when autumn moons
Shone bright and clear, and we,
We used to walk beneath the frosty starlight...

You watch me, smile and speak not;
April, you always were a good listener,
Hearing out my softly whispered confessions,
The patter of your rain, your grey skies our cover,
Our camouflage, your smile my absolution.

Year after year, my friend you come
Bringing chrysanthemums, rain-clouds
Crisp, frosty nights, woollen days, capricious sunlight.
As Autumn ripens, you herald Winter’s arrival,
And I with each of your visits understand your silences more…

Come friend, let’s drink, and in our cups
Let’s reminisce of days gone by,
Of nights long past, when autumn moons
Shone bright and clear, and we,
We used to walk beneath the frosty starlight…

Ahhh, April,
Welcome, friend,
Ahhh, April!

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.

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…

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!

AN ACADEMIC DISCOURSE

“Common sense and a sense of humour are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humour is just common sense, dancing.” - Clive James

This week, Poets and Storytellers United asked us to write “Something Good”, something uplifting, something hopeful or amusing. I have put my tongue firmly in my cheek and I am giving you a little humorous poem — some nonsense verse that takes a little swipe at my fellow academics, who sometimes are too serious for their own good!

An Academic Discourse

Two rabbits, some hares,
Were splitting their hairs:
Their intent to argue creation,
Rain, and such condensation.
Plink plonk!

A rat, a gnat and two moles
Were digging four holes,
Deep in which to inter:
Bread, butter, liqueur.
Oh, yes! 

A frog from a bog and a hen
Constructed a large pen
To herd mewling cats,
All wearing elegant hats.
Meeeeeow….

A badger, a toad, carrying a load
Conversed in Morse code,
While giving great pain
To everyone’s brain.
Oh no!

And there were you, you and I,
And a blue-bottle fly,
Singing in tune under full moon,
Sometime in late June,
While pigs flew overhead
And our theories misled.
Mmmmm, Miss Lead!

Five bandits , two bears,
Were riding on mares.
Wanting to argue cognation
And establish their relation…
Cousins, I think!

A dog in a box, a robin, a fox
Looked at their clocks,
As teatime drew nigh
The tea in short supply!
How beastly!

A stoat and a goat, quick to emote,
Cried long in their boat,
Their tears enough, no surprise,
To make it capsize.
Blur gurgle!

And there were you, you and I,
And a blue-bottle fly,
Singing in tune under full moon,
Sometime in late June,
Eating butter and bread
Content and brain-dead!
Quite so!

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 the song has been submitted to music sharing sites, but there is a variable period of delay until the song is publicly released. YouTube is generally the most prompt.

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.

SERENITY...

“Surely we have a responsibility to leave for future generations a planet that is healthy and habitable by all species” - Sir David Attenborough

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something about “something with both spooky and summery themes”. I am watching with horror the terrible Summer wildfires in Europe, the worsening situation in Israel/Gaza, the ongoing war in Ukraine. I see the world leaders of many countries blithely following a path of totalitarianism and self-interest, ignoring a looming climate catastrophe and a path leading to more warfare… I look at the increasing destruction of world wilderness areas, the effects of our pollution, and our thoughtless use of natural resources, and yes, I am spooked by all this…

Serenity...

The news is bleak, the world is marred,
We live in fear, our lives are scarred.
Our leaders crazy, and the people crazed
Crime, greed and murder, society’s razed.

The planet’s suffering, the climate’s changed
Animals dying, nature’s deranged.
Fires are raging, floods drowning each city,
While nature’s turned on us with no pity.

All that I wish for is peace, serenity,
And all I get is conflict, obscenity.
All that I need is a home and love,
And what I get is bombs from above.
Oh, please, give me serenity!

Oceans are poisoned, rivers polluted,
Species extinct, resources looted;
The air is toxic, our water’s blighted
The people uncaring, deeply benighted.

The threat of war, total destruction,
The earth beset by an evil fluxion;
We dread the worse but choose inaction
It’s time to shake off vapid abstraction.

All that I wish for is peace and quiet,
And all I get is conflict, evil, riot.
All that I need is care, affection
And what I get is scorn, rejection.
Oh, please, no more disquiet!

All that I wish for is peace, serenity,
Give me true justice, give me lenity…
Oh, please, give me serenity!

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.

Please note that the song has been submitted to music sharing sites, but there is a variable period of delay until the song is publicly released. YouTube is generally the most prompt.

CASTING HOROSCOPES

“We are born at a given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have the qualities of the year and of the season of which we are born. Astrology does not lay claim to anything more.” - Carl Jung

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something about “the most important step”… How one should best progress forward after that most important first step towards a desired goal has been taken.

While some people manage to succeed in progressing forward and taking charge of their lives in a planned and courageous way, others seem to stumble, vacillate, or look for guidance from others, or perhaps even from the stars…

How many people read their horoscope every morning? How many consult astrologers or tarot card readers? Maybe palmists? All seeking to find the true path forward and to take that most important step…

Casting Horoscopes

Trine Jupiter and square Mars,
The moon always  in opposition
While Mercury yet again is retrograde.
I gaze up counting all the stars,
Trying to define my position,
While searching for your hand, so much afraid.

Sextile - Jupiter and angry Saturn,
Gemini’s in the eleventh house,
Aquarius on the ascendant.
You left me once, now it’s my turn,
Trying my love for you to douse,
Ignoring all the pains attendant….

The sky is dark,
My thoughts so stark;
My heart languishes lonely,
Stars for my company, only.
I cast you far, far away,
The moon to keep at bay
My maddening, whirling thoughts of you.
I read my horoscope and find in it a taunting déjà vu.

The sun sets, Venus will follow
The zodiac rotates, and high up in the sky,
Cybele reflects in the moon’s shade.
My heart is empty, feels so hollow,
I cast the die, I try to push thoughts of you by,
But time reminds me of a fate I can’t evade.

Trine Jupiter and square Mars,
The moon always in opposition
While Mercury yet again is retrograde.
I gaze up counting all the stars,
Trying to define my position,

While searching for your hand, so much afraid.

The sky still dark,
My thoughts so stark;
My hand still empty, lonely,
Stars for my company, only.
I cast you far, far away,
The hag of a moon to keep at bay
My maddening, whirling thoughts of you.
I read my horoscope and find in it a taunting déjà vu…

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.

TOGETHER

“You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together.” - Nicholas Sparks

The New What’s Going On Blog has set a theme of “Friendship” this week, one that I covered last week in my poem. I don’t think I am too much off-topic if I present a poem on a special kind of relationship: The one that begins between two people who have a lot in common and where the special closeness and bond of friendship develops. As the relationship progresses, love enters the equation and the two become a couple. This to me is more preferable than the “love at first sight” situation, a relationship that is often like an exploding firework that fizzles out.

Together

I saw you, you saw me, we clicked:
We chatted, we laughed, time ticked.
Love at first sight? 
No, just good fun.
The night was so bright,
Something had begun.

I called you, you called me,
You spoke, you enthralled me.
We went out and dined,
Was all so civilised.
Your mind a great find,
Your company prized.

And then love stepped in slowly,
It overwhelmed us wholly;
You kissed me, I kissed you,
How could I resist you?
We watched the stars rise,
In each other’s eyes.

You stayed over, I stayed over
With breakfast moreover;
Became an odd couple
To never decouple.
With days so exciting,
And nights like lightning.

I moved in, and we both thrived,
Our house a calm, serene haven
Our lives renewed and revived,
You are at love a great maven.
We are together, to part never
You and I, a couple forever.

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.

APRIL SHOWERS

“Anyone who has surgery scars knows there's probably still some tenderness there.” - Breanna Stewart

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something relating to “Telling Scars”. Scars are physical, emotional or spiritual. They are traces of what has blemished our body or psyche, leaving marks of healing. Healed scars may indicate healed past wounds and pain, but often that scar may be prodded into renewed pain if we press on it…

April Showers

April speaks with words of rain

Uttering watery farewells,
Crying through peals of laughter
As he leaves me all alone…

April says goodbye

His hollow words carefully chosen,
His false tears duplicitous
As his rainy days run out.

April showers, in shady bowers
Bringing forth May flowers - of pain…
April, friend, you have betrayed me,
And a shadow you have made me.
April showers, fall for hours
Bringing forth May flowers - of bane…

April leaves me once again,
Wounding, healing, promising much,
Giving little, taking all;
Dreams run, dissolving in his rain.

April is over, tonight his last night
April finishes and my love for you
A tired traveller, wearily stumbling
Exhausted, stopping finally by the wayside.

April showers, in shady bowers
Bringing forth May flowers - of pain…
April, friend, you have betrayed me,
And a shadow you have made me.
April showers, fall for hours
Bringing forth May flowers - of bane…

April ends my hopes
He kills my every fantasy,
Destroys my world, dissolves sweet images
Of happinesses he promised me would come.

April speaks with words of rain
Uttering watery farewells
Crying through peals of laughter
As he leaves me.

April showers, in shady bowers
Bringing forth May flowers - of pain…
April, friend, you have betrayed me,
And a ghost you’ve made me…

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.

DRINKING MOONSHINE

“The phoenix must burn to emerge renewed.” — Janet Fitch

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something relating to “Celebration”.

One of the things we associate with celebrations in the Western tradition is to have a drink… People drink alcohol for a variety of reasons, including celebratory, social, personal, and even self-medication purposes.
Some common motivations include stress relief, social lubrication, enjoyment, and coping with mental health challenges.
Alcohol consumption can also be influenced by environmental factors, family history, and cultural norms.
For people who are not drinkers, a substitute may need to be used. Drinking the light of the shining moon perhaps?

Drinking Moonshine

Tonight the moon fell into my cup
Was drowned; and dissolved all up.
The stars fell down as golden rain
To assuage my loneness and the pain.

Tonight, I’ll drink the fallen moon
And sup on stars with silver spoon,
To make the blackest night less dark,
Less silent, as I try to clear your mark.

Tonight the clock seems stopped

As minutes drag, the hours dropped.

I drink the moonshine, swallow stars

In hope the potent mix will heal my scars.

Tonight, your absence all the more acute
My thoughts run after you in vain pursuit.
The drink burns more than any spirit neat,
In deep swallows it’s drunk, my pain to cheat.

Tonight is black; of moon, of stars bereft
As dregs of moonshine are in my cup left;
My sweet star-meal has a bitter aftertaste
My empty night has my soul embraced

Tonight I’ll stay awake, despite my drink
My mind too full of you to think;
My heart too empty, and my bed too cold,
Tonight I feel deserted, frozen, old…

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.

I AM STRONG!

“Revenge is surviving, getting out, and being a better person than you were, and breaking the cycle.” — Kristy Green

The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is to write something inspired by the phrase “Survive Out of Spite”.  An internet friend made me aware of the MEND project, which supports abusive relationship victims and helps them survive and heal by leaving the abuser and beginning anew, healing themselves in the process. My poem is inspired by this.

I am Strong!

You used me, you hurt me,
You tried to subvert me.
You thought my meekness
Was my great weakness…

I loved you and you fooled me
Your promises, all false and hollow;
I was so tender and you ruled me
You ordered and I had to follow…

Enough, I say! Enough’s enough!
I don’t deserve to have it rough.
Your selfish ways are over,
I’m no longer a pushover…
I am strong! So strong!
You’re in the wrong,
Between us it’s all over.

You cheated, you deceived me,
You lied, and belittled me.
You laughed and crippled me,
If only you believed me…

I gave you all I had, and more,
You took it all and wasted it.
My sweetness was not tasted,
Your heartless ways no more…

Enough, I say! Enough’s enough!
I don’t deserve to have it rough.
Your selfish ways are over,
I’m no longer a pushover…
I am strong! So strong!
You’re in the wrong,
Between us it’s all over.

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.

PS: Some of you have said that the song does not appear at the link sites. Type: "Otidorchestre" and do a search. Sometimes there is a slight delay from my posting it to its publication at the music sharing sites. Generally YouTube is the most efficient.