Instruments wake up,
audible whispers and stirrings.
Louder chitter chatter.
Listening and talking.
Cooperating and conversing
before the show begins.
wake and excite me,
promising musical adventure
wrapped in a harmonious, melodious
mish mash of musical mumblings.
My Fair Lady
I am ready for
My Fair Lady.
I want some things to happen.
I want things to turn out fine
so I look up to the stars.
The one on the far right is mine.
The stars are on display and
piled up one million stories high.
I wish upon my chosen star.
I wish everything will be alright.
Wishing upon a star
in movies may come true.
In real life things are not so simple.
It all depends on you.
So depend upon yourself
and hope for the best.
Worrying doesn’t help.
Fate will take care of the rest.
Believe things will work out
as things tend to do.
Believe in yourself.
Believe good things will happen to you.
You can fulfill your dreams,
use your strength to pull you through.
Just wait and see.
The future is up to you
I can’t help but think like a singer
I absorb all the advice and all the know how
of how to sing and now
this is coming through in how I live.
Is it weird that when talking house decorating
with my friend I think of discords and crunchy notes?
Notes running side by side and not blending.
She was discussing wallpaper and curtains clashing.
I was thinking of notes coming together and crashing.
At work when I was creating a pictorial diagram
of our Past Student’s pavers in the yard.
Bricks, blank, unpurchased, unnamed
it was not so very hard
to think of the importance of space between notes.
Notes spread out and distanced from each other
by rests, time to catch a breath, unnoted notes.
And bowling always makes me think of singing.
Aim for the note, then sing,
Aim for the goal, then let the ball knock down all the pins.
Sing straight on the note, don’t smear.
Keep your arm straight or the ball will disappear
down the gutter.
I wonder if it matters.
I wonder if it is ok,
if I can get through life
thinking like a singer.
Can’t really be helped.
I am one.
And I love it.
Note to self – don’t look at peas on a plate or birds on the wire too long.
The room lay empty. Personless. Waiting for the next opportunity where it would be allowed to grow creatively. Last week a group of pointy toed ballerinas. Today literary people. The curtains hid a secret. Gathered in a corner like gossips. They knew. What happened in this room?
In the corner.
She spins long, long,
tendrils of silken thread.
Ample amounts of yarn
to catch any unsuspecting.
flies who hover too close
Spiky feet take turns to
test air currents.
Suddenly she descends
along an invisible line.
Some people are scared.
I am not
I escort the spider outside because
I spied her.
Clouds. they are blown into cotton ball streamers by wild winds. when they get black and heavy rain pours, lightning strikes and thunder rolls. I love the fluffy cumulus clouds. Looking up at the sky i see such funny things. A saucepan, a man with a massive nose, a trumpet. But today I was told these clouds hold computer data. They are very useful. I have seen both sides now. Clouds.
At the bus stop while
waiting for the bus
a lady smiled at me and asked
aren’t you a musician?
I think I met you once before.
Haven’t you sung at Carnegie Hall?
Haven’t you been to London and Rome
singing at amazing places and then returning home?
I answered ‘I am only me’.
I have just been very lucky.
I was at the right place at the right time.
Someone else deserves all the credit.
He put all the work and the effort into it.
He helped write the music with two other people.
and went across to Europe to make
sure we could do it.
The lady said ‘I remember you.
I was so impressed with how you spoke.
We were waiting for a bus in Berwick,
you, myself and two other ladies.
You were full of enthusiasm for your music.
But I did not get your name and then you were gone.
I answered ‘if you love singing, ‘
come and join us.
Come sing with me and my friends.