Think like a Singer

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 Show Must Go On

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
we sing.

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’.

My Padadada Padadada Spective

Wednesday night the chosen few.
were standing at the
front of the room behind the conductor
enjoying the choice parts of the song
while we were the badadadadadading
back up singers.

1 am on Saturday morning
an idea came to me.
We are a large choir.
Not every voice can be heard.
We are like a bunch of pencils
which need to be grouped
into Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass.
A few chosen ones, used as highlights,
need to be set aside for easy access.
These chosen ones would be selected for
familarity and uniqueness.

All colours give depth and form
to what is in the mind of
the person creating the picture.
Who am I to query why I am one of the
badadadada backup singers?
I can only focus on doing the best job of
being one of the
four colours so that the select few
can be layered on top to create a picture
of depth and beauty.
Sharp outline not blurred image.
Maybe one day I can
aspire to be one of the chosen ones if
I hone my skill and be a more vibrant tone
but for the moment i am happy to be
a speck of golden light warming the
choir from the badada background.

Song got Stuck

I sang Sing with
many others.
My voice hovered overhead
and joined my sisters and brothers.
When a choir sings love is expressed.
Love for singing and music
and understanding. 

Our voices express the love we feel.
for the freedom of song and
our friendships that form when we sing.

That thought was so beautiful
my song got stuck on my face
and my cheeks got wet.

What Do I Want from Singing?

Lately I have been coming back to the same question.
What do I want from singing?
Do I want to be a big star?
Do I want to make big bucks
and be driven in a limousine car.
Well I wouldn’t say no to those sorts of things.
Pearl necklaces and diamond rings.
But living in the lap of luxury would not
keep me happy for long.
Audiences may fill venues
and listen to my songs
but I don’t think that would
make me happy for always.
I can live without compliments.
I can live without praise.
I sing to go to another place.
Somewhere where I am me with a smile on my face.
If I could pass on that happiness to someone else
so they too would understand,
I would have achieved
something before I leave this lonely land.


The event running sheet lists the songs we need to take for the singer’s weekend. I remove the songs we are not singing. Removing the unlisted songs does not much much of a difference in weight but  it all makes a difference. The guest conductor is going to teach some surprise songs. It will be good to learn a song from the beginning again.
I have been told all pencil markings have to be removed from Tobias and the Peeooping Birds(Tobias and the Angel) by the end of the performance. (I must remember to take an eraser). My pencil has kindly recorded all the advice provided by the conductor on my long journey with Tobias. It is very cautious and is always warning me what to do well ahead of time. Things to remember – spit consonants out, whisper with purpose and menace, sing ‘chooce’ not ‘jews’ and lots and lots of Singlish.
I am definitely watching out for tram tracks in my music. These tram tracks (look like this –  || ) are musical Stop Signs which warn me of the moments not to sing. If I sing here I am in no man’s land with no safe way of returning. I will be singing solo if I venture further so I always have my eyes ready for these tram tracks.
My friend with the pencil markings all over it will be with me for the show. My conductor is fun. He has a wicked sense of humour and a ready smile. Always patient, always kind. He brightens up the day every time he teaches.
Now I have my instructions in my music I am ready to sing in a show.  My annotations are the foundation of my song and supports me just like my breath supports my voice. All too soon the song is going to be sung and then I will have to say goodbye to Tobias and the Peeooping Birds.
This story is unknown and strange. I grew up in a religious family and have never heard of the book of Tobit. I have learnt more than singing in a menacing whisper.