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 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.
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.
I have a new poem which is called ‘Choir, a spread of joy’. Here it is. Hope you like it.
Not many people know of this
but there is a spread
set way up high
on the tallest shelf.
If you asked a sales person
to bring it down
you would see it for yourself.
that this spread is
the best spread the world will ever see
full of richness and flavour and
All types of people come together to make a choir,
song unites us together
and differences make us unique
we leave our trouble at the door
grab our music and stand up on our feet
‘All Eyes on Conductor’ as he blends us into one
until we are smoooooooooth
like melted chococolate spreading outward
in an icky, sticky goo.
This goo is made with love
as we all love to sing,
it is made with tolerance,
we are all the same under our skin,
it is made with patience
lots of work required to get the song right,
the spread is poured into bottles
and the lid is screwn down tight.
I hope this spread is shipped
throughout the world
I hope this spread goes to places
where love and understanding is required
and sharp stones are hurled
For the Choir spread ingredients
are social inclusion and love
if you ever experience it
life will not be as rough
There are friends who fill up the silences
I know them and
they know me.
There are friends who share
and enjoy the silence.
We can just be.
The show must go on
but then it ends.
The show is the time
when we can show what
we can do with our friends.
In a blink it is over.
All the weeks of practice
ending with a bow.
Onward and upward,
we will learn how.
New songs to learn
new tricks to remember
but what I remember and
love the most
is at rehearsal when
Rehearsal is the time
we learn not just the notes
but to sing with our friends.
Listening and appreciating
each voice in each seat.
A friendly chat and a cup of tea.
I love to collect all the cups at the end.
It is my way of saying
‘I love singing with you my friend’.
From the Best Western
I hear the church bell
rings out all over town.
On the hour the metallic clangs sound.
No danger of hoons on the street
keeping me awake.
The bells are louder
any person about town can make
Fear and focus
maybe two words
to energise us for a performance.
Friendship and fun are
what we perform for.