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The chorus clouds bang out floating by the river blue, they sing down the sky as they move. The sun draws in from the secret valley ambling with the wonder light as if it, the punter sun, in the sky knew it, knows the flutist rose from down the sea! There is no stop in the solar disc. Twirling around the inner music every orb, every planet is a bee. The waning and waxing Moon in silhouette and at half-light swings over the sea. It all starts from the ground; it was from our sea waterfront Him the creative sweetheart in the midst floated the leading light the bumblebee.
All the stars bubble in the galaxy they know this ancient story! A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Conditionless.
Stu Harley May 1. The Ghost-flute.
Shofi Ahmed Jun Dancing the swelled waves of the deep, swimming clouds leap out to reach over the sunny sky. Blow out a cool kiss on the bank of the blue Ganges of the skies. The lips that kiss the bottomline play the flute. Listen, singing chorus rains down, bouncing back to earth the only open-through planet! Knit Personality Jul Three Limericks. Nico Julleza Jul My Irish Flute on Mountaintop. Beautifully done by my imaginations. Knit Personality May The Unbroken Chord.
CK Baker Dec Christmas Trees. Joseph Zenieh Jul When l got there, l saw a bird whose chick fell down through sad event. The hen was flying with a cane; it hovered where its chick was thrown. It urged the chick to perch on it, but it was too young to have known. I held the chick and placed in nest, and its mum set its mind at rest.
It twittered and gave me the cane and flew to nest with heart so blessed. I threw my rifle on the ground, returned with that gift in my hand, with a happy heart that blessed my act, and a cane on lips with greatest sound. Xavier Paolo Josh Mandreza Mar That the Watchman was late To keep him from salting your Dignity Never again. Will this Harper reject And cut the Strings which Truth comes to rely To re-wire each String and play Respect Then tie on turtle-shells before it dies.
Long-Distance Friend. Shofi Ahmed Mar On the Mother Language Day. I A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap. The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin. The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance. Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
Indigenous music of North America - Wikipedia
They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing? Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
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Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating! Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call! Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory. Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be! II The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams. Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute. Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming. Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river. Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
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Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time, only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies. K Balachandran Aug Black magic water. Rushing, water plays her flute; All become zombies! This water rich state is flummoxed by this backlash. Daan Vandelay Jan The first meeting of eyes made me see how cute a particular being can be. I glanced at her glancing, stared at her staring, kissed her cheek and saw every single peek.
Soon I knew what was going on, it was impossible love in its prettiest form. Not forbidden by law, but frowned upon and disabled by social norm. There were other girls, but not quite as cute, like she was a snake and I played the flute, but she loved her basket, straight from the heart and I was just a new part of a different puzzle, for a different day. I wanted to love you, if only I may. I am waiting for the day of love, 22 marching soldiers saluting your ways of being who you are. I've grown up and stopped behaving like that, thankfully edit.
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Arianna Oct Fragment V. I am old now, as the poets have warned. Rama Krsna Apr The Animals At Woodstock. The woofers and tweeters stood ready to commence the cool cats stage center had sounds to dispense. A hot dog up front was ready to wail, but the crowd closed in and someone stepped on his tail. The concert took place in a big hall, something like a gymnasium. The strong reverb and the echo inside this room were rather disturbing so that loud music was broken down into a sound mishmash. Epitaph were playing ahead of us. Then, it was our turn, and when we started playing, the whole atmosphere in the room changed completely.
As we did not use any drum set, the reverb of the room responded to our playing in a very different way. The sound that we produced and also heard ourselves was so heavenly that we felt like floating through the room, completely unearthly.
So, we just went with the flow. In the meantime, the audience had stopped dancing.
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Everybody was just looking towards the stage, in awe, and with their mouths open. This was unreal, and I felt like a spirit that could create a world of his own. Actually, it already started in I was really restless, at that time of my life, and I started traveling around Germany, visiting old friends and making new friends.