Monthly Archives: July 2016

Trampled by Turtles

I stand alone in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. I feel my smile stretch my cheeks to my ears and a swell in my chest, oh boy! The rhythm of the banjo, the clear notes of the mandolin, the singer’s voice pauses as the bow pulls notes from the fiddle. The rhythm flows on. One song ends and the next begins. The voice sings fast. The bow plays frantic, as fingers move. Sounds from the harmonica then warmed by a voice and rhythmic plucks on strings. The music washes over me like the yellow and orange lights bath the band on the stage.The bow work hard on those strings, fingers play across the fret. That long, lonely sound. I left Nashville a fan of the fiddle. The pull in my heart as the sound emerges from the bow, drags across the strings. I, once a young girl, who shriveled as she passed through the family room, as the high tense sounds of the violin screeched from stereo speakers.

 

Listening to the sounds of Trampled By Turtles. The rhythm of the banjo, the clear notes of the mandolin, the singer’s voice pauses as the bow pulls notes from the violin. The rhythm flows on. One song ends and the next begins. The voice is fast. The bow frantic, as fingers move. Sounds from the harmonica then warmed by a voice and rhythmic plucks on the strings. The music washes over me like the yellow and orange lights bath the band on the stage. I stand alone in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. I feel my smile stretch my cheeks to my ears and a swell in my chest, oh boy! After five days of work I’m still on my feet. Wish I could close my eyes and hear the sounds played by the words on the page, right now. The bow working hard on those strings, fingers playing across the fret. That long, lonely sound. I left Nashville a fan of the violin. Open to the pull in my heart as the sound emerges from the bow. As it drags across the strings. Once a young girl shriveled as she passed through the family room where the high tense sounds of the violin screeched from stereo speakers.

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Inspired by a Stumptown postcard

Stumptown Portland Mt. Hood  – The aroma of coffee lifts high above the city ensconcing Mt. Hood.  Wish you were here.  But I’ll shove my feet on to the empty chair across from mine and stare out the window into the grey street where streaks of people move past heads and shoulders lean down toward the sidewalk avoiding Portland’s constant moisture.  Webs haven’t begun to grow between my toes, but I’ve found mildew in my boots that were pushed back in my closet.  When could the artist have envisioned this image?  Must take a lot of Stumptown coffee to get you there.  I remain grateful for the forty five minute periods of time when the sun breaks through the thick clouds that hug this city hoping to detain any warmth from escaping.  While another cup of coffee allows me to sit a little longer.  No place, no person drives me out into the street.  Would be okay if I sat here all day.  Nah, there are a few things I wouldn’t mind doing, people I wouldn’t mind seeing, but first let me finish this cup of coffee.

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Life travel – take 2

I’ve stood here many mornings at the top of the hill where the sidewalk borders the lawn neat and trim

The hill’s curvature fools the eye and for a moment reminds you, you’re standing on a planet

As I watch last night’s moon slip closer to the horizon – celestial bodies move around and together

Early morning allows space to take note of all that is about us

And I walk on along the sidewalk to the woods, realize it is my first trip around the sun without my father

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Life travel

I’ve stood here many mornings at the top of the hill where the sidewalk borders the lawn neat and trim til it runs to meet the house low and pale against early mornings’ still dark sky

The hill’s curvature fools the eye and for that moment you are reminded that you’re standing on this great terrestrial planet

Last night’s moon, our lone satellite slips closer to the horizon – two celestial bodies moving around and together

Early morning allows us the space to take note of all that is about us

And I walk on along the sidewalk to the woods and realize that on this morning it is my first trip around the sun without my father

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