Music of the Spheres
“What tears us apart can bring us together.”
Music dips a candle and lights it at the wick,
spilling notes like light out, full and round and thick.
It builds a room around us, brick by brick by brick,
shedding shards of ditties sharp enough to nick
our inflated sensibilities, popping those balloons
of our inflated selves to turn us from buffoons
into sentient beings, open to romance,
and filling out our lives with more than circumstance.
Anger, joy, nostalgia, need or fear or wonder
can unite us in experience or tear our world asunder.
All these warring sentiments are meant to coincide
in human hearts where all of them are destined to abide.
Music is the language that gives us each a tether
that unites individuals and ties us all together,
Prompt word today are music, note, crumbs, coincide and brick.
Sneaking Up On the Muse
My verses are not perfect. I’m no Dickinson or Byron.
My words are rough and crumpled, in need of a hot iron.
My reasoning is stifled, obscured by feeble brain.
I often have to write a line again and then again.
My successful lines are stealthy. They just creep up on me,
perhaps because my muses hang around insistently.
If I could take a stealthie, perhaps you’d see one hovering
there over my shoulder, inspiring and mothering.
In short, on those occasions when my inspiration’s slight,
and I cannot find a poem, likely my muses might!
Words of the day are stealthie, slight, rumpled, stifle and iron.
(A stealthie is defined as a picture taken by someone, usually a girl, that is clearly a selfie but contains a cute animal or object of interest in order to curb the backlash of it being a selfie, or a picture taken without the subject’s knowledge, especially using a smartphone. Retrieved from “https://en.wiktionary.org/ and the Urban Dictionary. This imaginary stealthie is of my mother, hovering over my left shoulder. She was my first inspiration and conspirator in rhyme and still, it is her voice I hear every time I write a rhymed poem.)
Just before I saw the rattlesnake today, I snapped a photo of this gorgeous flower in my sister’s yard–or perhaps it was her neighbor’s. They join together along the arroyo that runs behind them both.
Does anyone else see the face in this photo?
For Cee’s FOTD
A bit of excitement today when my sister’s neighbor called us over to see this interloper in his yard. It was between 4 and 5 feet long–a western diamondback rattlesnake..Click on photo to enlarge.
This flower grows like a weed in my yard but I can never remember its name.
For Cee’s FOTD
I admire your method of drinking your beer—
boldly and brashly, without any fear
that there won’t be more when you come to the dregs.
You have faith that there’s more in the taps and the kegs.
It’s a pure faith that you have in the hops—
in your estimation, the finest of crops.
Add it to barley and water and yeast
and you’ll have a fine brew to add to the feast.
In schooner or lager, in pint or in bottle,
I like how you swig it down, going full throttle.
Your method is bold but not lacking in grace.
As you gulp down your brew, it’s clear you’re an ace
at pilsner disposal. As the glass leaves your face,
the beer has all vanished with nary a trace,
save for a mustache of frothy white foam
that you lick from your top lip before you go home!
Then, evidence gone, you cross over the bridge
and drive quickly home, where you open your fridge
to extract your “first” brewski, or so thinks your wife.
When seasoned with beer, it’s a wonderful life!
Prompt words today are ace, method, purity, beer.
Gazania at 10 AM.
A bit later.
And later still. Amazing transformation.. all in a couple of hours.
For Cee’s FOTD
The music’s loudly blaring. An overture it ain’t.
I swear it’s so annoying that it would rile a saint.
Repetitious cymbals and snare drums over-brushing.
I’d pay a pretty penny just to implement its hushing.
I’m sitting in a sandwich shop waiting for my plane,
waiting for this song to stop, but I wait in vain.
I figured that another would replace it in a bit,
but they just replaced it with a more annoying hit.
What is this type of music, back-throated and annoying?
An inhuman vibrato both mechanized and cloying.
I’m trying to decide how to phrase my irritation.
Oh that it was possible for me to change the station.
Why don’t I move away, you ask. Surely, I am able.
The problem is that it’s the only place here with a table
that will hold a laptop and chairs elsewhere are taken,
so I had to order a chicken sub with bacon
that I really didn’t want just to post this poem.
Blogs require a sacrifice when you’re away from home!
Prompt words today are human, figure, hit, overture and phrase.