Cue the lights and the music

And music again. A new tip for setting limits plenty, more besides. It’s all there you hear the benefit after a couple the other way would be to try put it back. Cue the lights — I hope you enjoy today’s verse distilled from sentences off the interweb. No, I’m not quite sure what it

The evening of score

By Kulmalukko (Own work) [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, Dead pigeon via Wikimedia Commons The evening of score You will stand at a window The clouds will part. A dead pigeon will fall down thud down at your feet. The day will turn. We now bar the exits. Cower. Plead. Waste your breath. — As mentioned

There was a first time

There will be a final page, the faded note and empty seats. One day the concert hall will be an office block and after that a hospital. Our hands at the serenade took home the note that fades. — It’s spring again. The blossoms I wrote about last year came too early this year, even before

we tried to love the symphony seldom played

From the archive, a poem about playing in an orchestra. If recollection serves me correctly, we may have been rehearsing a seldom performed Tchaikovsky symphony. My ongoing relationship with music has also inspired: And a – a poem with a boogie woogie beat Nightstar of Sirius – written during a jazz concert We stayed up late and

We stayed up late and waved our sticks about

I love hearing about the antics of raucous older people – those humans who have made it to their eighties, nineties and beyond. I met Klara last year in a queue at the Cadogan Hall when we were both waiting to buy £5 day tickets for a Proms chamber concert. This was her story.

Poems inspired by sea creatures

This poem about scales is a mash-up of ideas about old flames and red herrings. Strangely, yesterday I also wrote about sea creatures. In ‘New ink cartridges‘ I paired cephalopods with writing in black ink. — The image of fish scales is courtesy of Wikicommons Media and photographed by Rajesh danji. View the original image here. You can

Kitchen Alchemy

Preheat a deep pan of golden leaf. In a large bowl split bitter chicory. Lift out the notes that made sense at the time. Turn up the heat. When sulks and stews have almost evaporated, You will have a sweet smelling slush. Whizz to a powder, this interesting theme. Return to the pan if you

Nos Liberavit

Bell-like, round and clear Hopeful and transparent as a copper bauble, it lifts the congregation. From the sanctuary the maiden’s voice soars and plunges as she elongates the siren call.   — I am not a groupie. I’d rather spend my days in a hermit’s hut on a mountainside with books, green tea and yoga

Star of Sirius, lapping Star of Sirius

Yesterday my poem “And a” was inspired by a CD of The Best of Boogie Woogie. Quite coincidentally, on June 3rd last year I posted a poem I’d written many years ago in response to a piece at a jazz concert. Music has long been a source of great enrichment in my life. Playing in amateur

And a

One two three four One two three. And a oneity two three four one two three _ [fine] Oneity oneity oneity oneity oneity two three four-a yeah ah peep for Parp twoity three _ Oneity two me four this song’s three four-a want to join me? Catch twoity three _ [Da capo] — The beginning/end-of-the