Music

Interwoven – NaPo 2025 Day Fourteen

My second Monday poem was to describe a place in terms of its flora, fauna, and other natural (and semi-natural in this case) phenomena. I was to sink into the sound of the location using poetic conversational tone. I was also invited to include near or slant rhymes in the poem. Confession: I enjoyed writing this.

There are Drums

Two bits and a dime east of the Sound water
that holds the Emerald Rain City at bay,
up towards twin peaks country,
three nickels past the Snoqualmie sign,
playing in the Issaquah Alps,
at the western shades of the Cascades,
rain drums play taps, slaps, and raps all day long.

Before the rains play their beats upon
the Douglas fir and bigleaf maple,
when western hemlock and coral root catch
drops before simple ferns silently call
some sagebrush, deer, elk, coyotes,
and wildcats toward the music,
Rattlesnake Ridge plays a glacier crescendo.

The verdant green on green on green screams its song,
as the drums beat the trails along,
and we love the sound as the lower down
trailhead city
plays us a ditty
in a rain drum courtyard,
haunting and inviting
us in time to make the climb
to the height
up nature carved rock to an overlook, above the lake.

It’s almost too much as a pleasing sound
brings us to a threshold of happy sensory overload.
Smiling at the ironic name since there are no rattlesnakes,
we do more than hear the music and see the rain.
We feel the wet, the wind, and cool breeze;
we smell the fresh everything, even dirt,
in the air we taste the kiss of nature.
We vow to return to the music
and to save the wonders for our children.

Look all the ways with awakened senses
of more than five as you find a love of nature that is new to you.
Mind the gaps especially if you venture to the top and do the overlook, too.

This place:

Musical Notation – NaPo 2025 Day Five

A Saturday NaPo table prompted me to compose a poem given inspiration from a musical notation of my choosing from a list of 21. Then, I was supposed to select a musical genre from another list of 21. Finally, I was to use in said poem one or more words I picked from a third column of 21. You can see the entire table which was Bogarted from an old Twitter account by clicking here.

My selections were: “lord have mercy;” folk song; and bones, butterflies, + banquet.

Pay to Play

I am not a musician.
No instrument can I play.
My singing’s not worth the price of admission.
Not even in church while
surrounded by singing Baptists on the Lord’s Day.

I love music. I wanna be
all those things. Just good enough
will satisfy me.

When I hear it, the many from way back then,
when, lord have mercy, a folk song
written and sung during the genre revival,

gets into my bones
I can get butterflies. I become
the man-boy I was with hair and zits,
now my playlist becomes
a veritable banquet. Then I sigh,
and I wonder why
they don’t get it.
Like rain they hear it but they get no feel.
Frankly, they just get wet.

Look both ways but remember; your song is yours, your music is born into your soul.
It matters not what others think, this is your thing.
Mind the gaps but you’ll never explain not knowing what was for lunch,
yet you still know the words to songs from fifty years ago.

 

It Begins – NaPo 2025 day one

The first 2025 NaPo prompt was to write a poem that uses a new-to-me word from either the glossary of musical terms or glossary of art terminology. The new part for me is the use of the word impressionism  in music.

Impressionism was a term at first used mockingly to describe the work of Monet, et al. It was similarly used to describe vagueness, imprecision, and perceived excess of attention to colour in the early music of Debussy.

Hay Fever

One hundred eleven million greenbacks
for a line of fuzzy haystacks,
a sunset or morning sky and blue flowers
where nothing looks real. Art

by a mocked artist who wisely
adapted the moniker to that style
of bright, pure, unmixed colours.
Insults taken to the bank.

Impressionism.
Is it art?
Is it music?
What does it do, say, or mean?

Would Claude be proud now
if he knew how his art
drew a fortune
at auction.

 

Look both ways at music critics and all art.
Mind the gaps because one critic’s trash is another’s needle in a hundred-million-dollar haystack.

Poetics: Inspired by Album Cover Art

Mish from mishunderstood (A Collection of Poetry by Michelle Beauchamp) devised a prompt that I could not resist. Her dVerse prompt was to write any style of poem (ekphrastic-ish) inspired by an LP music album cover.

My (writing/art/reading/library/music/office) room walls are decorated with 100 album covers (see why I can’t resist?) with more stashed on various shelves around the room, all changed out or around regularly. While I dearly love the music and what it does to me, the albums displayed are all about the cover art with few exceptions like the Beatles White Album or the Eagles, The Long Run, and a few others. Most of it is photographic art, thus (photography is another of my “hobbies”), I must respond to yesterday’s “Poetics: Inspired by Album Cover Art.”

I chose a classic: Tapestry, Carole King’s second and most phenomenally successful album from 1971. The poem credits the photographer. The album was produced by Lou Adler and was released 10 Feb 71, by Ode Records.

Smackwater Jack

It is weird, isn’t it?
How we form attachments to things, both iconic and not.

Sights and sounds, perhaps,
more than other senses,
but still in nineteen-seventy-one, when my B.S.,
Tapestry, and Billy were all born.

(And, oh god! — Wally World.)

There’s Carole, barefooted in jeans,
sitting on the bench window seat
at home with her great hair, at

Eighty-eight-fifteen Appian Way,
Laurel Canyon—in Hollywood Hills, L A.
There she is,
perched on a pillow holding a tapestry.
While her cat, Telemachus, sits on his own pillow—

But only momentarily,
much chagrining cover photo guy,
Jim McCrary, photo maker of many iconic covers.

And ya know the piano’s
not far away. Maybe it’s
“Way Over Yonder,” or maybe
“It’s [just] Too Late.”

She had help (James, Joni, and more) recording
in Studio B. And isn’t it amazing
how more than fifty years later
I still know, I accurately remember
every word of every song to sing along.

Look both ways and let the magic of art and music take you where you want to go.
Mind the gaps, as crazy as it is, vinyl is coming back.

Sammi’s Weekender #362 (classic)

Click the graphic for Sammi’s page and more classic writing.

Classical Folk

Telling me about herself,
her childhood, family struggles
made her who and what she is today:
a wonderful classic of musical charm.

The point is telling
the story only she can.

She remembers.
She wants me to know.
It’s all important.

Another girl on my mind
made me wonder.
What was it like
to have been her?

Look both ways when looking into the lives of others.
Mind the gaps and do the research.

NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 17, At Seventeen

Today I am to write a poem inspired by a song, and to share its title. I confess to being influenced by song lyrics, especially the well-told stories in ballads.

Earlier this year I read “At Seventeen” by Janis Ian (1975) as a poem at an open mic event. I’ve always loved the song and somehow relate to it, as do many people around the world. Janis explains how that affects her and sings her song in the video below.

At Seventeen
When she called
I couldn’t hardly talk at all,
and when she sings
I remember high school things.

The words, the tone,
together talking on the phone,
her memories, at seventeen,
were mine at home alone.

“It was long ago and far away,”
do I wish it was today?
What has changed in how we are,
in pickup trucks or borrowed cars?

At seventeen when boys like me,
Sad Sacks outside for all to see.
“Come dance with me”— because
that couple we will always be.

She said,
I pity boys like you who serve,
you only get what you deserve.
My broken heart sang obscenities,
to the one I loved but never pleased.

At seventeen I was that man,
a boy holding a gun over there,
I stay alive as best I can, but
of angry me I must beware.

At seventeen a boy like me—
at seventeen, too young to see.
And ugly boys like us do care.
At seventeen, when I was there.

Memory is a strange, unreliable thing; so, look both ways and don’t assume.
Mind the gaps in song and poem, you’ve been only human all along.

Sammi’s Weekender #341 (rhythm)

Click this graphic to read more and to hear the beat.

Rhythm is fascinating
to humans, animals,
even natural things
like rain can capture
the human heart and soul.

Even now, the natural pat-
pat-pat of my foot
absentmindedly comforts
my mind and soul.

A cat purrs out sounds
as birds sing their tunes
and the dancer begins
to move her feet.

Some days
the lyrics move me,
Other times,
it’s the beat
and I move my feet.

Look both ways at the lyrics and the music.
Mind the gaps where one saves the other.

I do so enjoy watching these dance videos with a step or two of envy. 🙂

Friday Fictioneers for December 8th, 2023

Ted Strutz contributed a photo of shoes for this week’s #FF prompt. As she does each week, the wonderful water lady in the purple lane, Rochelle, has challenged us to write a micro-fiction story (≤100 words) and to post the same among the squares of honor.

To join us, click on Ted’s pic and walk right on over to Madam’s blog page to get all laced up on the path to a successful Friday Fictioneers career. The pay ain’t great but the benefits are awesome.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Genre: Norden Fiction
Title: Barefoot Rhapsody
Word Count: 100

***

Her mother said, “It’s time. Get your shoes on. Let’s go so you can sing them to tears.”

Angelina replied, “I’ll sing for America, Mama—mostly for Simon. I sing barefoot.

“What if you step on a nail? Have you had your tetanus shot?”

“Singing barefoot is what I do. It promotes singing, and people love it. So, please; no shoes.
Father, help me.”

Father smiles. “Angel, this is Norway. It’s January. Wear the boots. Before you take the stage, remove your socks and boots. We will be there to hear you make them cry.”

The angel wore the boots.

***

 

Look both ways and dress appropriately.
Mind the gaps and listen to the lady sing.

***

Singers who also often sang barefoot include Linda Ronstadt, Patti LaBelle, Bjork, Deana Carter, Kelly Clarkson, Joss Stone, Shakira, Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, Colbie Calliat, Jewel, Krist Novoselic, Carly Simon (often but not always). If this Angelina Jordan video doesn’t make you feel something, put your shoes on and leave.

Click on the lovely Linda to barefoot on over to the links to read more stories prompted by the photo.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #340 (wobble)

Click the graphic to wobble on over to Sammi’s page and find more 58ers to pursue.

The bow-legged woman
wobbled like a lady
doing the boogaloo.

Kind of a James Brown
LA stomp
with an old bag
of swag.

I just try to get by,
she said,
with an audible sigh.

Then I saw them leave,
the lady and drummer,
whose name was summer,

wobbled hysterically
out the door
just to move their feet.

Look both ways and write your song.
Mind the gaps and the sounds between the notes.

dVerse Poetics November 7th, 2023

This was a complex prompt, so it is best to go to the dVerse page and read about Lisa’s Time Machine Bucket List: TMBL and the subsequent prompt with options.

I think I sort of did Option 1, but this comes from my heart. I know Lisa said ten and cull out, but I can’t do that. I focused on both the stars and the venues because, seriously, I would try to go.

Coming Around Again

Forty-five (or more)
albums later, fifty years
of water under two bridges,
if we could go back.

Back to when you opened up
to your kind, to your fans,
and friends and family,
your folks, without
a care or anxiety
for either of us.

Long over now except for
the forever connection
of Ben and Sally; I still
love to hear you and James
sing duets and harmonies.

Save me seats so I can go back;
back with my beloveds
with you to concerts like:

Live from Martha’s Vineyard,
or from Grand Central,
or from aboard the QM 2.

Can we meet at the Eagles’
Sad Café? It’s been fifty years
Carly. What do ya say?

Listen,
mock, yeah,
ing, yeah—let’s sing!

Look both ways, but when the more is in the past,
we can wish for times to go back to for just a brief concert to visit,
to sit and listen, to applaud, perchance to take in a toke.
Mind the gaps until time travel is perfected. Our goals are very specific.

Click here to enjoy more TMBLs.

And Carly—