The story of the artist is a breath page from a book found written long ago in the halls of a poet’s dreams, written with nature’s brushes in quiet places where evening subsides into stillness. The images and sounds can be found like bells waiting to be rung. Only some find that these apparitions are fleeting, vivid, and then disappear as one wakes suspended between reality and dreams. It is in this regard that the desire for the ability to hold the flame, and channel the river is what we have come to talk about in this book. It is where the in-between moments are saved and savored, scribed in detail for a lasting reflection of guidance and support.
It is also for those that feel that they are lost in the spheres’ of indifference, casually displaced like mismatched shoes and…
I walked along a wicker road to somewhere clean. Sometimes when I think it’s time to go, a little bird comes along – whispering from a tree … “It is indeed a good time to be free, but the story of your life must still be told,”
How the fragile grass can survive the step is a miracle. As morning brings a feather of dew softly upon its green mat and the rain comes to renew it from the crush.
Once again, its spring is back; upright green, and so languidly lush.
it is startled in discovered ground to find it’s grown oh so much
My front porch is filled with geraniums,
My back door is steeped in the scent of honeysuckles.
I worry not, for flora and fauna are my friends.
They caress ma femme’ and circle her back again,
Abundant and rested
Abloom once again
And though the years have craved the younger bloom
I am not certain that I would want the tomb.
Lovely summer, and knowing autumn befalls me still
For each season is my reason to stay alive,
That is my will
I have given the glittered roads many a travel
Where in trials my heart unraveled the soul of a woman whose name is neither man nor woman
But my one authentic light bedazzled.
My one song
My garden universe unfrazzled
My resplendent repose
My garden leads me to its fair retreat
Where friends in their silent beauty, I am sure to greet.
With song voluminous -heartfelt – we speak- of none less than the flowers that lay about our feet.
Aquarium Funk is an innovative compendium of cool with wings, hip with the hap of old school meets break out contemporary jazz fusions of capriccio tuneful funky charm.
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The village must be saved from being crushed by horrific Giants. With the help of the Twelve Magicians of Adaya, their quest depends on the courage of one you boy, Hiram, and King Fu, his dragon. For Young Readers, and anyone who has nightmares.
Hiram was sleeping quietly in his bed, the room was silent, and there at the edge of his bed lay his protector; his stuffed dragon, King Fu, the mighty. The curtains blew in the windows gently, rippling ever so slightly in the breeze. Outside a howl screeched, Hiram closed the covers over his head. He knew what was coming. The ground began to shake with heavy footsteps reverberating through the walls of his room with an eerie approach, louder, and louder, coming closer down the street.
“You hear that King Fu, they are getting closer to the town,” he said, his breath becoming louder and louder. “The Giants are coming to step on our houses; we’ve got to get them before they reach the village!” He got out of bed. “Come on King Fu, it’s up to us.”
He put King Fu on his window sill and said the magic words, “Abracadabra, King Fu grew larger and came alive. Hiram got on his back and they flew out the window over the village. He could see the three giants coming down the hill, their eyes cold as black stones, their huge mouths menacingly groaning. Hiram drew his optic fob wand from his side, pointing it at the middle of one of the giant’s heads, ready to fire the penetrating sound that would freeze him right where he stood; when a gust of wind blew them off course and sent them spiraling into the trees. They crashed, dangling tenuously in trepidation.
“We’ve got to get out of here King Fu!” King Fu roared, flapping his wings to loosen their grip on his wings. A storm was brewing in a cauldron of black clouds, “You can do it, and try harder!” They thrashed in the tree, lightning crashing over their heads, and striking the ground. He could hear the screams of the people as the Giants came closer, he was desperate to be freed, to save his people.
King Fu struggled, and with one more ferocious roar, unleashed them from the tree. Above them was a blood moon rising, lighting all the clouds in crimson auras as they moved swiftly into the sky. There below them were the Giants, stomping the trees, and crushing boulders under their tremendous feet, howling in the wind. Hiram drew his orb wand out again as they reached the watchtowers outside the city where the watchmen were relentlessly ringing the bells in warning, however futile it might be, they bravely kept on though their souls trembled with every step closer the Giants took.
The Rise of the 12 Magicians ~ Chapter 2
It seemed hopeless, fatal doom rested over the land. The people had nowhere to run to, with heavy hearts, fearfully confused, mothers held their babies in their arms and wept, children screamed in wild abandoned billows of grief and terror; fathers sought desperately for places for them to hide, but to no avail, for if they reached the city; all would be destroyed. How can one so small as Hiram defend them against these gargantuan giants wreaking this wretched havoc upon them?
Out of the clouds appeared the twelve Magicians of Adaya, who have the power to make a difference in our lives, and in the world, if we simply make a point to try. The Counselors of Adaya, bring inspiration in order to assist all with transition, and change. They inspired one to receive divine communication directly from Source, aligning them with who they truly are, blessed in the soul’s arousal of confidence and strength; receiving their inspiration meant that Hiram would fully discover that love, and compassion, are the only way forward to freedom – an initiation that is announced in the breath of heaven. There in the whispers of their communion soul, they surrounded young Hiram, and breathed upon him light, in fulminating beauty, emanating a steady force field around him; supporting him with the courage of his heart, the strength of his body, and the willingness to succeed; something that had always been within him, but now, with the help of the Twelve Magicians of Adaya, transcended any doubts.
Hiram drew out his orb wand, pointing it towards the Giants that angrily growled, and clawed the air where Hiram and King Fu flew. Fearfully glaring eyes pierced through Hiram, he held on tight to the mane of King Fu with one hand, wand in the other steadily aiming; waiting for the right moment to send the omission that would freeze the giants. With every bone, and fortitude of muscle and might, Hiram wheeled to the left and beamed out a long penetrating sound designed alone for stilling the monsters. The wind swept across the sky spinning the clouds into quick stills in flashes of the crimson moon that eerily lit the giants faces in maudlin angles, hauntingly obscure, and ugly. The giants stopped for only a moment to see Hiram and King Fu in the sky, gloriously surrounded by the Twelve Magicians in a magnificent orb of light.
The first giant reached up to swipe them out of the sky, annoyed as if they were no more than a fly. The second giant bellowed at them as if by doing so, he could scare them away. The third giant reached up to catch them in his hand with what would be a crushing clasp; it was then that Hiram sounded the orb wand.
“Stop your destruction giants, I am not afraid, I have the power of light and sound, go now or forever be turned to stone,” Hiram yelled believing in his power. He heroically fired the wand, and the giants began to solidify into mountains where no trees would ever grow; their faces transfixed in disbelief as they remained there frozen for all time. The people below cheered and were safe again as they returned to there homes and slept in peace.
The sun was coming up in the east of streaming light through his window. Hiram woke up, and held King Fu close in his arms, and smiled. No longer was he afraid because he had faced the giants and his fears head-on with confidence he knew from that day on that true power comes from within.
The rain and storm curves around my kites of bliss and challenges them to compete in the air for life
I have feared, I have lost at the hands of tribulation
I lean and bend as far as the rushes will take
Until they are ripped from the banks, tormented by waters ceaseless falling, flowing dripped and steed in wrenching floods
I am not alone, but it sure feels like it
The lights went out for hours and all I could do was sleep and then sleep some more. Deeply surrendered to a vacuum dreams sucked out of my head
If I were alone in a void
I would know of thee even though we seem to be far apart a passing breeze tells me you are there and I have brushed your cheek.
The editor’s note my alignment of words and thought tend to opt for elaboration, it is a tedious task that is arduous but seeks to transform something complex into a feeling. Oh crap, I think I will go feed the compost with shredded poetry and hope the earth can make something better of it than I can.
I am not a sad writer, just one that is a bit lazy today
The weather bluster of darkness looms in the air with gray, and I fear my new mood swing will take on more damage, once again; I am given this vacant space of pondering to write in.
I remember a time of magical twists and imagined turns so poignant that they collected in a pool where I dove down to catch the silver spoon to hold it in my hand like a magic wand. The music flowed easily, smooth as rain on a summers day. The children played across the street in the neighbors yard, squealing with delight and I was reminded once again of the sheer innocence of being tuned in to channel Imagenarium.
Unicorn Giraffe is a wondrous book for children that boosts their belief in themselves first before they can be truly loved by others. I have included some of the music here from the ebook as well for your enchanting enjoyment.
Unicorn Giraffe by Laura Botsford and Teddi Rutschman
So it came one afternoon, that all the dreams of a young girl appeared in a cloud and fell from the sky and landed right in her own back yard. There were rain mirages of the festooned birds that held flowered hats on their heads, ribbons woven into the tails of zebras and little larks that rode ceremoniously on their backs. It was one of those magical nights when all seems to fall into place. Evie Madeline Marie, stared out her window and listened to the thunder roll across the sky, as gentle rain misted into the rain gutters and spouted out a rivulet of clean water into the brown earth below, funneling life back into everything once again. Once there is a wish, it is bound to come true.
There is a certain evanescence found in Jazz that is conversational, melodically composed in a nuance of notes that is a kind of sound braille to touch upon, and translate through a whole body experience. Maybe it’s because it is rooted in my childhood when my father, and I would listen to his albums together on a Sunday morning; that was our church, our communion, our sanctuary of lyrical repose.
I absorbed Louis Armstrong, Dizzy, Chet, Oscar Peterson, Miles and more with rapturous meditation listening to the grooves, of syncopation, forks in the melody line, overlays of instruments speaking to each other, and pauses filled with anticipation of what would be wondrous next.
There is a musical happening on soundcloud that is more than the songs themselves, it is a community of like minded creative souls sharing their passion, igniting the fire of what I have named, avanticity; a place where music is reborn.
Loving Jazz as I do, especially innovative Jazz, I created a group on sound cloud so here for your listening pleasure, is our friends on soundcloud.com.
I was deeply touched by the story of Dinah in the book and film, The Red Tent. It is much more than a story of her life and times to me. The circle of sisterhood is deeply felt, and one of great spiritual significance in the family of women. I treasure the devotion of the Mothers, and that they honored the Mother of us all. It came as no surprise that Jacob destroyed their clay representation of her, all through the ages, and particularly in the Bible, little is mentioned of the divine women and the root of us all; the connection we as humans have with Mother Earth.
This Classical Ambient collaboration with Simon Reich is the circle of life, and the sacred bond of womanhood in song.
The piano part was something that came to me one day at my sisters house. I remember that it was like speaking a beautiful psalm or poem. I only had a scratchy recorder with me at the time, and months later I asked Simon Reich if he could recreate it. I deeply value the care he took in phrasing it just the way it happened, and the lilting sacred sound at it’s heart. I added the music arrangement of “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes because, It is my wish, and my dream that all people will honor Womankind and cherish the Divine Nature within us all.
poetstreets.com 