Feeling The Music

Happy Holidays 2011

Happy Holidays to all my friends and followers! :)

 

Goddess Of Space

Aditi is a goddess in the Hindu pantheon, mother to the gods of the heavens. She is sometimes referred to as the womb of space, and in this role can be seen as the female Brahma, creator of all. Personified, she is the goddess of the past and the future, of all space, of fertility, and of consciousness itself.

 

Aditi is also looked upon as the goddess who is unbound by the world, even more so than the other gods and goddesses. She is beyond time and space in many ways, and is unchained by the rules that bind other beings. In this form Aditi is often worshiped by those needing to be liberated from some situation in their life, be it literal bondage or something like an ailment or guilt.

Winter Wonderland

 

original

I rarely do animations for this site as Blogger is so picky about file size

but thought I'd do a small one for Christmas.

Hope you like! :)

 

The Opposite Of Love

The Opposite of Love

Some people think

The opposite of love

Is hate...

That’s a big mistake;

When you’ve loved someone

With all your soul,

And poured everything

From your heart,

When you’ve loved-someone

So deeply from the start

And then love-leaves-you,

Like a soul-shattering-pain-of-glass

You’re hoping soon that-this-will-pass

Wondering how the hell

Did your wires-get-so-crossed?

The opposite of love

Is not hate at all

The opposite of Love

is

Loss…
 

©8DaveWonder

Her Violin Sings At Night

Her Violin Sings at Night

She plays softly by the moonlight
In mournful solitude surrounded by mist
With the moon listening to the violin's song.
The notes caress the stars at night
As the violin sings with her tenderness.
The night carries the music along.

She comes alone at night to sit by the lake
And pour her heart into the violin's strings.
The violin's voice haunts the nighttime air.
She plays a song of longing that makes her heart break.
Her spirit weeps as her violin sings,
While into the night rises a song of despair.

The moon and the stars lend their ears
As the solitary maiden comes to play
And the mournful notes take flight.
They listen until the sun's greeting nears
And the tune finishes with the birth of the day,
But will be started anew when her violin sings at night.

Copyright 2011, William Michael Winegar

Moon Maiden

Moon Maiden

Her eyes, two of the brightest
stars in the firmament
smile dazzling enough
for midnight frolics.
She is enveloped in a dazzling
aureole of  moonlight
so intense, so concentrated
no language
can aspire to describe.

Author unknown
 

The Past

Faulkner said: “The past is never dead; it’s not even past.”

All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.

Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose provenance dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations. The quotidian demands of life distract  from this resonance of images and events, but some of us feel it always.

From “The Quiet Game” by Greg Iles

But Tomorrow

 

 

But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
    barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
    in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
    She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
    offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.

~ William Collins (December 25, 1721 - February 17, 1847)

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween dear friends and followers!    :)

Flowers Reflected

Locked Up

Locked Up

What is the secret
That’s locked deep within your soul
Causing you such pain
That you won’t let down your walls
To let anybody in

Though you offer keys
That will unlock many doors
One lock still remains
In a room within a room
Where I think your freedom lies

©jbz

 

Old Ships

The Old Ships

I have seen old ships sail like swans asleep   
Beyond the village which men still call Tyre,   
With leaden age o'ercargoed, dipping deep   
For Famagusta and the hidden sun   
That rings black Cyprus with a lake of fire;      
And all those ships were certainly so old—   
Who knows how oft with squat and noisy gun,   
Questing brown slaves or Syrian oranges,   
The pirate Genoese   
Hell-raked them till they rolled   
Blood, water, fruit and corpses up the hold.   
But now through friendly seas they softly run,   
Painted the mid-sea blue or shore-sea green,   
Still patterned with the vine and grapes in gold.

James Elroy Flecker 1884–1915

Autumn Reflections

Quite The Pair

A bit of Fall whimsy.     :)

The Music Man

Jim "Red" Pope 

1929-2009

That’s my Dad, looking rather rakish, back in 1949. He was an accomplished musician from an early age.
He played the guitar, the piano, the violin (fiddle) and bass violin (known as a bass fiddle in bluegrass/country music).

At the age of 5, he played the violin in a symphony orchestra! Mom couldn’t find the photo but I bet he was a cute little stinker. He grew up winning many County Fair fiddling contests across New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas.

During the 1940’s he played with the Lee Bell band. They had their own radio show. In 1954, they had their own television show on KSWS in Roswell, New Mexico.  We moved to Indiana where he played with the Ray Kizer band then, later, with the Dixie Drifters. He played with them until 1970.

The uniforms they‘re wearing, in all the photos, were designed by Dad and sewn by his aunt Esther.

The Lee Bell Band

Fiddling duo- Lee Bell band (I found this photo on the internet)

The Ray Kizer Band

The Dixie Drifters

Then, he moved to Lubbock Texas to play with former members of the Lee Bell band who formed a new band headed by Jimmy Blakley. Jimmy owned the Palm Room nightclub and they played there until the late 80’s.

Over the years he was invited to sit in with many famous bands such as Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, Tex Ritter, Rex Allen, and Eddy Arnold.

I remember my favorite song that Dad played on the fiddle. It was “Pop Goes The Weasel”. He would play a line, then move the fiddle to the top of his head, play a line, move it behind his back, behind his knees, under one leg, then the other-- never missing a beat. It was such fun to watch and a real crowd pleaser.

We all miss him and his music very much.
 
Further reading:

http://www.bigvjamboree.com/LeeBellStory.htm

http://www.hillbilly-music.com/groups/story/index.php?groupid=13527

Sunset Rose

 

"Sunset Rose" 

Sunset falls on a lonely flower,
With petals of crimson flame,
And for just one golden hour,
Its beauty, all nature proclaims.
Basking in resplendent beam,
A blossom of colored glass.
The dew drops all like crystal gleam,
As fond mem'ries of the past.

~Unknown~

 

Pastel Rainbow Dahlia

Amidst The Flowers

Amidst The Flowers 

Dream
amidst the flowers
of you
and me.
What can be
hope to be.
Yearning
sighing ....

Barbara B. Baskin 2011

Dueling Banjos

 Hope you enjoy the music!

The Writer

The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium.  ~Norbet Platt

Flowers in the Bubble Bath

Now, I'd love a bubble bath like this! :)

 

Night Of Faeries

Night of Faeries

Evening falls across the heather
And the stars come out to dance.
The faerie folk come to life
And fill the night with their lyrical chants.

The mists on the moors swirl and caper about,
Taking rock and tree to embrace
The faerie folk make merry and dance about
'Neath the silver of the moon's face.

by Mike Winegar

(Mike has since added to this poem. You can read the entire version at the link in Mike's name)

Wallpaper Fantasy

I usually don't create fantasy images but this one was fun to do! :)

Redhead

Redhead

The wind blows, stirs, billowing flaming tresses.
A mystic magic this prize of locks possesses.
Green eyes with just a hint of mischief fill
Alluding to her strength, her forceful will.
She is so like moonlight, like full moon's light.
So pale and so perfect that it just seems right,
That freckles flecked in myriad across her skin,
As in the sky one looks at the stars within.
And beautiful without bounds, are they and she,
Without stars, where would the sky's beauty be?
Not just in the brilliant sunrise flame of her hair
But how she does everything with certain flair,
There is inside her, a flame that shows through,
In everything large and small she chooses to do.
Moods and temper flit like autumn winds blow,
Not even she knows in which direction they'll go.

Copyright Heather Glenn 2007

Leather

Leather

Dampened jeans and hot leather combined

Sweet horse sweat and human salt beads

Sticky sun in a dusty earth patch

Two dry throats and sore muscles

Hearts thudding with heavy motion

Work and play are all the same

This is my day…

by HorseFeathers, age 17

Nature's Tease

NATURE'S TEASE

Tease me again
With your shimmering body
Glide past me now
In glowing delight

Glints of turquoise
Sparkle and shine;
Emerald and amethyst
Jewels so divine

Through your wings
I see beauty
Simplicity, grace
Hovering near me
Not a moment to waste

For in a breath
You shall be gone
Lovely dragonfly
Ah yes, I've been
Forewarned!

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Shredded Heart

I've never created an animation on this site so I thought I'd try it out.

The poem is by a young girl. Ahhh, the bittersweet memories of young love. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shredded Heart

My poor, shredded heart
Is weak from loss
It's ripped part

I'm so sick of falling
For the wrong guy
I always end up bawling

I guess you dont' love me back
What? Couldn't you tell?
It's painted clear in black.

So, my torn up heart,
May just give up,
It's sick of falling apart,
After putting itself together again.

Lauren

Woodland

Woodland

There is a serene and settled majesty to woodland
scenery that enters into the soul and delights and elevates it,
and fills it with noble inclinations.

 

Washington Irving (1783-1859)

At Sunset

At Sunset

To-night the west o'er-brims with warmest dyes;
Its chalice overflows
With pools of purple colouring the skies,
Aflood with gold and rose;
And some hot soul seems throbbing close to mine,
As sinks the sun within that world of wine.

I seem to hear a bar of music float
And swoon into the west;
My ear can scarcely catch the whispered note,
But something in my breast
Blends with that strain, till both accord in one,
As cloud and colour blend at set of sun.

And twilight comes with grey and restful eyes,
As ashes follow flame.
But O! I heard a voice from those rich skies
Call tenderly my name;
It was as if some priestly fingers stole
In benedictions o'er my lonely soul.

I know not why, but all my being longed
And leapt at that sweet call;
My heart outreached its arms, all passion thronged
And beat against Fate's wall,
Crying in utter homesickness to be
Near to a heart that loves and leans to me.

Emily Pauline Johnson

Ghostly Wolf

He emerged silently
soft tread, wispy moves
The wind blew
No trace
save a track
in the dandelion field.

© Barbara Baskin 2011

Dawn

The Dawn

Ecstatic bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of the sky
with metallic clinkings--
beating color up into it
at a far edge,--beating it, beating it
with rising, triumphant ardor,--
stirring it into warmth,
quickening in it a spreading change,--
bursting wildly against it as
dividing the horizon, a heavy sun
lifts himself--is lifted--
bit by bit above the edge
of things,--runs free at last
out into the open--!lumbering
glorified in full release upward--
songs cease.

William Carlos Williams

The Jewelry Tree

Photo credit: Montucky (Terry)

Terry, I changed nothing except to select the 'jewelry' parts 

and apply an Edge Enhance filter and added a pop-out frame.

Thank you so much for letting me play with it! :)

I wrote a quick little ditty to go with it.....

Baubles litter  maple leaves

Shining in the sunset

Tiny flashlights illuminating

the way to enchantment

Reflections

I couldn't find a poem to go with this image.

Sometimes, having to find a poem to match an image

can be frustrating and very limiting to my creativity. I

may have many posts in the future that are images only.

On of my followers posted a poem for this image:

i saw a reflection in your green eyes
the flowering buds of spring
i felt renewal in your sweet smile
the sustaining warmth of summer

Doug

Mother's Day 2011

My Mother

A total self commitment
Not fame nor fortune need
She gave herself completely
In thought, in word, in deed.

She never stopped to wonder
On blessings she might earn
But tried instead to teach me
And prayed that I might learn.

And now I'm older, wiser
I understand much more
And look with admiration
Her presence I adore.

Mother gave me everything
A debt I can't repay
So help me God to show her
My love in every way.

~© Rosemary Wynings~

Skinny Dipping

Skinny dipping

So free

Nothing between body and water

Water - swaying, gliding, caressing the skin

Unencumbered by spandex, nylon, or cotton

Nothing to hinder the imagination

No ties to the urban world

No pockets

No possessions

An aqua ballet performance

An intimate connection with flowing liquid

Weaves in and out of crevices and curves

Flows and slides smoothly over wet flesh

Soothing fluid relaxation

Licking at nakedness

Liberating the spirit

Stimulating the soul

Unknown

My Grandfather: My Hero

MY GRANDFATHER: MY HERO

Your finger tightly clasped in my little hand
your shadow walking along with mine
grandpa, I was a tender flower bud then
and you nourished me like enriching sunshine

With years we modeled this grand relation
every morning you and I waiting for my school bus
you have the magic to make my wishes come true
we live in a special world, made for both of us

Your words speak from the book of wisdom
you smile like a player who won the game of life
your eyes are deep and full with memories
you always say 'count our blessings when troubles are rife'

You consider my victory as your achievement
and give me strength on my defeats
you always lift me up through high walls
and make my life an enchanting treat

Every moment with you is toned with sweetness
the bond between us is soldered with love
you are irreplaceable, lovable and important
and a part of my life all above

Chetan Sharma

In Search Of Me

IN SEARCH OF ME

Where shall we find it
This place of solitude
One that is ours alone?

Shall it be in distant shores
Sea of cerulean blue
Tinged with sunlight
Dancing on the waves
Kissed by golden sands
Swept with the Master's hands

Shall we claim it
Upon the highest pinnacle
Backpack upon us
Staff in hand
Foot secure, trudging
At last
Where our dream began?

Perhaps near a stream
Running cool and clear
Rocks polished smooth
No obstacle to fear

Yet, it may be closer
So much closer than we know
Within our heart;
Reaching deep within our soul
Always there
Our solitude
We may always make it our own

No matter where we go
Wherever we may roam
Our spirit, within us
Always has a home.

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Piano Player

PIANO PLAYER

Those hateful keys,
All so musically perfect.

Wretched music;
Pages thrown up everywhere.

The polished wood
Gleams and shines, daring you to try.

You have no choice,
You must do as your teacher says.

You settle down,
Sitting on the freezing, hard seat.

Non-budging hands
Makes your head start spinning within.

Then it makes sense,
Why and how you are sitting here.

Your hands fly off,
Tickling the ivory keys.

Wondrous music
Steadily flows towards your ears.

Suddenly stuck
In its musical fantasy

Jessica Pui hung Lee

Spring Greeting

SPRING GREETING

Beneath the sodden leaves
Under frozen earth
She has waited;
Waited patiently
Asleep;
Dreaming of hyacinth days
Meadows waving in dances green
Fragrances awakening the senses
Ah yes, has she dreamed
Lilacs bursting
With charismatic charm
Waiting for the sunlight warm
Now, now she awakened
Yawning with breath so fair
The beauty the rebirth
Of Spring is in the air!

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Little Ones

Little Ones

A distant howl is herd across the tundra,

The sound shaking the ground like wild thunder,

Wolves join in a chorus of joy,

For pups have arrived, great howls they deploy,

As the little ones come out to greet their first day,

Emerging to meet the pack, always wanting to play,

New scents, sounds, faces, and skills they must know,

For soon the alpha pair howl a warning, "Soon it will snow!"

Young wolf pups must grow husky and strong,

As the winters here, are cold and long,

The little wolf pups smile and giggle,

Small bones they chew on and nibble,

Not a worry in their hearts,

Not a worry in their souls, their lives just beginning to start,

Yet with the leaders these young ones have, wise and much alive,

Food will be plentiful, guaranteed, they will all survive.

By ©Brooke M. a.k.a. Spirit Wolf