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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

THIS, TOO, SHALL PASS...

“It is right to endure with resignation what the gods send, and to face one's enemies with courage.” - Pericles

The New What’s Going on Blog has sent as its theme this week “The Days we Stayed Apart”, a reflection on how the COVID pandemic affected us. For me personally this was a difficult time as death due to COVID claimed a victim within my own family. However, I had to find the strength to hold on and deal with life and all its vicissitudes. Resignation, tolerance, moderation, self-control, assisting others, coping with numerous restrictions and delving into what is the purpose of life, are all topics that I think of when I remember that dark time. Here is my poem:

This, Too, Shall Pass…

This fleeting moment
Of our time in the sun,
This, too, shall pass –
Remember; for the happy man shall be made sad,
And the sad man made happy.

This mortal coil,
All of our suffering,
This, too, shall pass –
Remember; for the pain shall be made joy,
And the joyful made melancholy.

This grand love,
Our all-consuming passion,
This, too, shall pass –
Remember; for the flame shall be made ash,
And the dust made into fire.

This glorious fame,
The greatness, this prestige,
This, too, shall pass –
Remember; for the renowned shall be made unknown,
And the obscure will be celebrated.

All is fleeting, all is vain;
Life, youth, love, beauty,
Riches, luxury, your bed of roses;
These, too, shall all pass –
Remember; for the last will be first,
And the first will be last…

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.

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.

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…