Tag Archives: Poetry

“Surprise me..”

 

I said;

You felled me

tiny, so tiny

I slipped neat, through

folds of earth layer

where Springs begin

arizona black and white canyon desert

Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com

 

Lyrics & LIfe

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‘Have you ever interviewed yourself ?’Guest Post

Guest Post :  Scott N Loveall ofInnersongs.com

Innersongs.com

Hi,
Have you ever interviewed yourself?
That was the task given to me by our InnerDialect and Lyrix & Life blogger Rayla Noel – lazy that one, right? I mean how long could this take?
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So anyway, she asked me to talk about the inspiration and/or origin of my poem Summer Rains. I’ll do that shortly.
I’ve read over and over, heard it said by many, comments by those that they ‘love the rain’. And indeed we seem captivated by it as a species. We stare at it for hours, respond to its tempos and moods. It is of course a practical matter to be dealt with as well – our hair, clothing, soggy feet, being on time to appointments.
As well it can be a calamity – flooding, suffering, and death.  Water/rain is a force in our lives. Yet on an emotional level, maybe a metaphysical level, if we are safe from its wrath, we seem to have a cellular connection to rain. Is it just that we are instinctually inclined to look at the elements more closely. Is it a matter of cellular memory… our primitive roots when rain and fire were primal forces. A life changing foes?
But you don’t see dogs starring at the rain with any sort of reverence. I’m sure the birds could do without having to fly into it with such velocity. Most other mammals just cringe or go on about their mammalness. Humans, however, romanticize it, create movie dramas, and tell ‘myths of arks’. As well we fixate on the anti-rain that is drought. Rain / water is after all crucial to our existence. We must hydrate. The plants must thrive. Vegetable ‘Good’! Pestilence and desert ‘BAD’!
So we look at rain as danger, and nourishment, a sort of food, and a wonder of nature. A magical fluid that we drink, bathe in, rinse our dishes, and count on for hydration and life. In a way that is how Summer Rains got started.
Summer Rains began simply enough one middle June afternoon when a large thunderstorm came ashore. I live a few miles from the sea. A gust front had whipped the trees like marionettes into a frenzy, their canopies dancing with downdrafts, the wind shear strong. As it darkened from lilac to violet, the winds eased, and first drops began to fall in huge plops. Huge droplets hit the windows and the garden wall with muffled bangs. I wondered at their size in the air. Then curtains of rain began, those great walls of blinding silver and steamy mist. The roar of a summer storm.
The first drops reminded me of a song from a DVD and CD called Natural States, by the great Seattle, WA based pianist David Lanz and collaborator, guitarist Paul Speer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avAa5TA5jocDavid and Paul had done that collaboration and two other brilliant sets called Canyonlands and Dessert Vision during the late 80s.  A song on Natural States called Behind the Waterfall came to mind. It starts with a few simple drops and traces how those drops and a bit more rain, collect into a rivulet – to a stream, then to a small cascade to a racing stream to a river – to a larger river… culminating in a huge waterfall, and then to rapids. Their music builds and runs as the water grows with more and more power and dance. So my words hear are partly evoked by that musical and visual experience. I imagine chasing the water and eavesdropping on places it traveled. The rest as they say are ‘mysteries of the mind’.
..
Summer Rains
I don’t measure my heart by the harvests,
nor in the coming days
when the winds will grow bitter.
Not the days of first gloom,
nor the first days that follow,
the tender cries and whispers of bloom.
My heart comes to dance
when the skies start to argue.
When the summer rains fall,
sheet-rapping the glass,
tap-spattering the walk,
snapping plops on the awnings,
the urban grime
wetted down to a shiny sardonic smile.
The summer rains fall,
liquid grains through the sieve of the sky,
the sizzling city, hissing…
gossips in the sewers,
trickles running to torrents of chaos,
racing through the vale to the river.
The summer rains fall.
Wet sloppy kisses,
wanton advances to the countryside slopes,
the lush shadowed corners,
and mysterious fringes of meadow glades.
Their aftermath… are cryptic notes,
an organic staccato on the forest verdure.
They cross the heart of this poet.
Their passing, shadows subconsciously counted.
I don’t measure my heart by the harvests,
nor in the coming days
when the winds will grow bitter.
I wait for the summer rains
And admire them
one by one by one.
___________________________
If you have stayed with me this far, my thanks.
Dry stuff sometimes… that rain. 🙂
I’ll leave you with an older piece… After the Rain
..
After The Rain
After the rain
          when the air smells like copper
          and the greens in the trees
          seem bright like wet paint.
After the rain
          when grass wants to sparkle
          and the birds speak like bullies
          whose bravado has faltered.
After the rain
         when the winds sigh, exhausted
         and the puddles lie tranquil
         as mirrors for the clouds.
After the rain
        when the asphalt gathers steam
        and the sewers chat like
        housewives gathering to klatch.
After the rain
        when the wires string like pearls
        and the sorrows in my heart
        seem dim and washed from view.
All rights reserved and © Scott N. Loveall – InnerSongs.com, 2014
Please visit me on www.InnerSongs.com, or my FB page Scott N. Loveall – InnerSongs and pass along your comments and thoughts. Or post them here. Rayla will, I’m sure, pass them along.
Carpe Lumen
Scott

 

“.. reflective to liquid and delightfully double-e, you can taste the colours and listen to what his words are singing.  It is there you feel the reverence he has for the written word, and the careful respect he has for what he chooses to share.  Scott draws from the deep pool where we all go down to drink, further out where the wild and wonderful things are.  At times his intensity affects me so deeply my throat aches in sympathy. – B.M., Vancouver, BA
Scotts’ work provokes me to listen to each others’ voice, to reach past the dark.Thank you Innersongs for your honest   ‘muffled questions’. Ay I’ve since felt the  ‘Pressure of dawn’, have ‘looked for plots’ among ‘Dusks that fell like a hammer’. The imagery is 3 D ! One  ‘Dances with fireflies’ / stares at Silences, thru’ pain, thru’ survival; Scott writes with  a sensitivity so rare in these days of indifference….
Innerdialects :
RNoel
Orchid Tree Bloominnersongs.com

Orchid Photograph credit: Innersongs

 

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What d’you mean ‘Defyd’ ?

Top Post on IndiBlogger

 

Give me more

Show me you care, that you are real,

that you walk

where angels fear to tread,

that thru these Times of hate and so much unsaid,

you care beyond the visible things ;maybe some place you broke, even just a bit, died inside and rose again, said what you might never have unless you were Defy’d

these are more than Songs …

/ more @ http://raeindia.wordpress.com/2014/01/31/def-yd-no-illusions/

https://soundcloud.com/def-yd/sets/defyd

 

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The way he loves

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He sent me flowers, songs, words and tune, silences and chord ; but not till he forgave me and loved me again as if I were the best one e’er born yet, not till then did I understand the height, the depth the width and endless expanse of Love that leaves no boundary

of a Love that covers every little wrong, as if nothing happened at all. I will not take that for granted ever again, nor forget, that’s the way He loves,

He loves…

..

http://raeindia.wordpress.com/2014/01/23/scarred-by-love/

..

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‘Yes, but don’t go.’

Last night, all plates and dishes put away, the lights low in the bedroom where our youngest son went into his blanket ; the girls were yet to fall asleep, I peeped in at Joh, and he lifted that dark head calling me for a second kiss, then a whisper –

“Ma,I feel lonely.”

My heart missed a few beats ; it had been a long two months, there had been illness, a trip, school year starting over, uniforms that did not fit, unfinished assignments, a lingering cough and so many unfinished things…

“Why son ? We’re all here aren’t we ?”

“When you ‘re all busy with other things, I feel lonely,sometimes. “

Speechless, I hugged him close, closer, a third a fourth kiss.“You feel good now ?” 

“Yes, but don’t go.” He said nothing after that just smiled and the room filled with feelings I have no words for.

Human touch. How abused, misunderstood those two words are : and so very easy to ignore in all our busy-ness. We sat there an hour, not just Joh and me, but all five of us, an hour in that quiet gentle dark as the little ones fell asleep.

Dearest Lord God, the worst disease on earth : ‘loneliness’ and such a simple cure right from the mouth of Babes.

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Filed under ASIA, Culture, Disability, Dreams, Humanities, Inspirational, Literature

Wishing you the Best/ 2014

 

Wishing you a blessed beautiful Christmas and a peaceful fabulous New Year.

The attached Link is something  I did for a Christmas Play 2010, with Sunday Sch kids and me :  cover from The Bible Movie), followed by our daughter Vihan’s cover What child is This. What a season its been and is ; we wish to personally thank you for being here. May you be blessed…

RN

 

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“Christmas like no other !”

408503_466640510051894_1511555378_nThis December I found myself saying, ” Dearest God  please  give us a Christmas like none other ( not imagining our dear friend Johnston Richard was onto an Album with the same  title , and asked if our visually challenged son Johann Noel would sing and do a small narration for him).

For those who know my family personally, much as we adore our kids and would promote them to the stars, there are often limitations..esp with 2013-03-24 10.20.36

Johann who has never really sung with studio headphones on, leave alone narrate  ‘cold cold snow’ not anything we have experienced. I now understand ‘snow’ is for the cold of the human heart…

Johnston Richard you raised the bar on this mother’s faith, on a  challenged kids’ sometimes lonely existence. Christmas is not exactly a festive season for everyone – for those who are disabled physically, emotionally, financially, socially,oh so many ways…

not everyone gets Christmas trees laden with gifts, banquets and new wardrobe, or Love…

1466022_1387241388187524_205367003_nnot every one is given a chance to be who they are. God reminded me/ us at the Noel home, He did create some really good people on earth, making for Peace, Joy, acceptance, of each other, and the Room for another to also shine.. ( rare ! )..

Listen to ” Cold Bethlehem” and our home visual -mix on U tube 🙂 of the song, also below, a brief from Johnston Richards

Talking about his new album and the Title :

JR  : People around the world give gifts to their loved ones and share the joy of family reunions. For many people, it is a season of give and take. However, the true essence of Christmas is the joy that comes from knowing the truth that you are loved unconditionally by God. No matter how others treat you or how you look at y0xourself. This love shatters all logic and liberates you from self-condemnation and leads you to self acceptance. Through the unseen power of the unconditional love that moves the universe, you are propelled to love ‘yourself’ and then other people unconditionally and give of yourself without expecting anything in return. Christmas like no other is the moment of history when time stands still and you experience selflessness and accept the intense and unconditional love of the creator of the universe who loved the world and gave his perfect gift of love to an imperfect world.

If you could make a wish for the world today – 

 JR    While Christmas is a time of joy and is celebrated around the world, to several people around the world it is a time of loneliness, financial hopelessness and emotional brokenness. But celebration and life doesn’t consist in the abundance of things or plethora of friends. Christmas is a message of hope. A message to the lonely : the Unseen power and love that moves the universe came down to earth in human form on Christmas day to save those who were ‘lost’. Without hope, without a future. Christmas is a time to go back to the basics and accept that love and feel the completeness. Love knocks on your door this Christmas and my wish for the world is that the people open the door and let the creator, who is love personified, fill their hearts with the completeness and euphoria of that blissful unspeakable joy.

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Johann with Daddy Noel at the Studio

 What’s the toughest challenge being  ‘Johnston Richard’?

JR            Writing and composing songs is a gift that God breathed into me. I am strongly compelled that the songs that I receive from the throne should not be kept under a bushel. As any trustworthy steward, as the guardian and scribe of the songs, I am strongly inclined to get my music out in the open and put it on a lamp stand. My mission is to play in what I call H.O.P.E, which stands for Hospitals, Orphanages, Prisons and Educational Institutions. The toughest challenge I am faced with is acceptance. The industry has changed and it is tough to survive, let alone thrive, as a Gospel solo artist. Somehow, I believe that bands gain favourable responses as compared to solo artists. When you are soft-spoken and humble, the world takes meekness for weakness and tried to ride on your back. People tend to judge a book by its cover. You can be judged by the colour of your skin, your nationality, and stature. And there’s another thing. It’s a catch 22 situation -You cannot become recognized if you don’t have enough people buying or supporting your music; and on the other hand, people don’t want to buy your music if you are not well known. So far, I have been funding my music from my own pocket. It’s a challenge to do  huge promotional shows on a shoe string budget especially when you have a family who depends on you. I personally know what sacrifice means. Through it all it has taught me respect for others in similar endeavours and has built in me strong values, character and  gratitude. I praise God for His faithfulness, and thank my wife and daughter, and my dear friends for their incredible support. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to share my story in here  God Bless what you do…

 
Richie Johnny This is the Best Christmas Gift I have ever received. Thank you so much. I am so moved that God could use someone like me to make something that turned out so beautiful this Christmas and for all other Christmases to come. I was 16 when I wrote and first recorded this song on a tape recorder;) God had his child Johann in mind and I am so overwhelmed with emotions for the love and support extended to me and my family. A special hug to Johann. Merry Christmas and a blessed Newyear. The best is yet to come.

Johnston Richard lives in Bangalore ; besides his 9-5 job as a Professional Writer, he is a singer-songwriter, worship leader, author, producer and a guitar teacher. He has written and composed over hundreds of songs and has released two studio albums.Johnston partners with Besso Orphanage for destitute children. WWW.JOHNSTONRICHARD.COM. His second album, which is a Christmas Album, was released on December 7, 2013

 

http://youtu.be/MvW2-t1ARME

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Filed under Artists, ASIA, Bengaluru, Blindness, Challenges, Culture, Friends, Homes, Hope, Human rights, Inspirational, Joy, Love, People, Writers

My Precious …

My Precious Lord…

I fail to understand how You and I are one, at all : look at You, look at me, our differences span history, and yet here now, here like this after all this time I am still so startled by Your perfect Love…

What Child is this ? Sung by 

Andrea Angel Bocelli.jpgBocelli born 22 September 1958) is an Italian tenor, and singer-songwriter.[1][2]Born with poor eyesight, he became blind at the age of twelve following a football accident.

http://youtu.be/aZV53SuPMPU

Performed at the Olympics

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Heavens !

 

How little the dark is, next to Light.

 

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Innerdialects

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Visiblity

 

Un unutterable Peace ; speechless words : like buds and drops : like tears, or re-cycled

petals. Growing glowing, visible best in the dark. In the Dark.

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