A friend of mine from high school posted an absolutely – heartbreakingly – beautiful photo of our lighthouse. I say “our lighthouse” because if you grew up there, on the Bolivar Peninsula, it feels like it belongs to you. 292 more words
via Haiku from Where I Grew Up, the Bolivar Lighthouse, and Please Pray for Mary — Glover Gardens
Originally posted on Lady Lazarus: April 30th was one of the worst days. Rejected by someone I loved Tossed away like nothing Lied to my face Cheated on Blind sided Finding out in the worst of ways. I thought I was the archer So why did I end up with an arrow in the back?…
“The Dark Night” by Alison Lawlor
dark night of the soul
long running beyond
the marked moments
cadenced by beats of
the clock of the heart
no orbit of planets
will influence time
in the war between
bodily pain and cruel
tortures of mind
it can last for a lifetime
perpetual violence
wracking raw flesh
and blood places
the sunless and airless
pink spaces where
life should find
sweet affirmation
where body and soul
should reach blissful
concordium
nonetheless here is the
permanent battle engaged
pitting forces of spirit
against vicious powers of pain
every moonrise occasions
another new skirmish
enlarging the conflict
a blooding of more and more
cognitive acres
mortality never more vivid
than now in this deadly
dark night of the soul
Excellent photo. He will be missed. By me and many others.
It is with deep regret that I to have to announce the sudden passing of my father Paul Lenzi. He was the cornerstone of our family and will be missed dearly.
He began this blog as a creative outlet and as a way of sharing his poetry. He never imagined it would develop such a large following, and the overwhelming support he received from this community touched him deeply. On behalf of our entire family, thank you.
We are proud of the legacy of words he left behind.
No halo:
I used to press my fingers into your back
the rebound felt like
wet cement
I thought you would keep me
grounded
There are so many stories
I’ve never told because
I’m ashamed of the moral takeaways
(there aren’t any)
Self destruction like
hurting others
so I could
feel something.
Instead of moving away
leaving this dilapidated apartment
entering plush lawn fronts
instead of seeking more for myself
I just changed the curtains
fluffed the pillows
and stayed
and stayed
and stayed.
I know you all often wonder about my writing prompt process, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate where I (swear on my life) got the “no halo” prompt for 42 from.
I hope you’re all enjoying your summers in your nook of the planet!
Love,
ELLE
Excellent poem. Excellent Author’s Note, too.
View original post 76 more words
https://pixabay.com/en/child-baby-human-new-born-3534046/
***
HAPPY DREAM
***
Someday I’ll grow up
And wear normal people’s clothes
And Mom won’t dress me
***
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https://pixabay.com/en/swan-with-young-boy-zwaantjes-ditch-3531563/
***
EXTINCTION
***
Do not go extinct
We want the species to live
This swan does her part
***
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— 1.4 —
A French Master Gunner and his son stood on the wall of Orleans beside a cannon.
The Master Gunner said to his son, “Sirrah, you know how Orleans is besieged by the English, and how the English have won the suburbs surrounding the city.”
Fathers called their sons “sirrah,” a form of address that people of high status used to address males of lower status.
“Father, I know,” the boy said, “and I often have shot at them; however, unfortunately I have always missed my target.”
The Master Gunner said, “But now you shall not miss.”
He meant that the boy would not now fire the cannon; however, the boy, as will be seen, would disobey that order.
The Master Gunner continued, “Do what I tell you to do. I am the Chief Master Gunner of this town, and I must do something that will bring me honor. The ruler’s spies have informed me that the English, who are closely entrenched in the suburbs, are accustomed, through a secret grate of iron bars in yonder tower, to look out over the city, and from there discover how with most advantage they may vex us with shot, or with assault.”
The English had captured a high tower that had been built at the end of a bridge crossing the Loire River. The Master Gunner and his son were in the high tower at the end of the bridge closest to Orleans.
The Master Gunner continued, “To prevent this inconvenience, I have placed opposing that tower this piece of ordnance, and for the past three days I have watched to see if the English lords would appear there. Now I want you to watch because I can stay here no longer. If you see any English lords, run and bring the information to me; you shall find me at the governor’s.”
“Don’t worry, father,” the boy said.
The Master Gunner exited.
His son said to himself, “Father, I promise you that you don’t need to worry that I will bother you with any news. I’ll never trouble you, if I may see any English lords.”
He meant that he would fire the cannon and get the glory for himself.
On the tower, some English lords now arrived: the Earl of Salisbury, as well as Lord Talbot, Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale, and others. From the tower, they were able to look down on Orleans and plan where to attack next. But first they talked together and got news from Lord Talbot, who had recently been a prisoner.
The Earl of Salisbury said, “Lord Talbot, my life, my joy, returned again to us! How were you treated when you were prisoner? By what means were you released? Tell us, please, while we are here on this tower’s top.”
Lord Talbot replied, “The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles. I was exchanged and ransomed for him. But to show contempt for me, my captors would once have bartered me for a baser man of arms by far. This I, disdaining, scorned. I craved death rather than be so vilely esteemed as to be exchanged for such a base, lowly born man. To conclude, I was redeemed as I desired.
“But the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart. I would execute and kill him with my bare fists, if I now had him brought within my power.”
The Earl of Salisbury said, “You haven’t yet said how you were treated when you were a prisoner.”
Lord Talbot replied, “I was treated with scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts. They displayed me in the open marketplace and made me a public spectacle to all. Here, they said, is the terror of the French, the scarecrow that frightens our children so. Then I broke away from the officers who led me, and I dug with my fingernails stones out of the ground to hurl at the beholders of my shame. My menacing countenance made others flee. None dared come near me for fear of sudden death.
“Even within iron walls they deemed me not safely secured. Such great fear of my name had spread among them that they supposed I could break bars of steel, and kick into pieces posts made of the hardest material. Therefore I had as guards their best marksmen, who walked around me at intervals, and if I only moved out of my bed, they were ready to shoot me in the heart.”
The Master Gunner’s son lit a gunner’s match and placed it in a linstock, a piece of wood with a fork at one end into which the match was placed. That way, the cannon could be fired from a short, but safer, distance.
The Earl of Salisbury said, “I grieve to hear what torments you endured, but we will be revenged sufficiently. Now it is suppertime in Orleans. Here, through this grate, I can count each Frenchman and view how the Frenchmen fortify the city. Let us look at the city; the sight will much delight you.
“Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale, let me have your carefully considered opinions about the best place to make our next attack.”
Sir Thomas Gargrave said, “I think we should make our attack at the north gate because lords are standing there.”
Sir William Glansdale said, “And I think we should make our attack here, at the bulwark of the bridge.”
Lord Talbot said, “From what I can see, we must starve the citizens of this city as a military strategy, or weaken it with light skirmishes.”
The Master Gunner’s son shot the cannon.
The Earl of Salisbury and Sir Thomas Gargrave both fell, mortally wounded.
The Earl of Salisbury said, “Oh, Lord, have mercy on us wretched sinners!”
Sir Thomas Gargrave said, “Oh, Lord, have mercy on me, a woeful man!”
“What mischance is this that has suddenly crossed us?” Lord Talbot said. “Speak, Earl of Salisbury; at least, if you can speak, tell us how you are, you mirror and paragon of all martial men? One of your eyes and your cheek’s side have been struck off! Accursed tower! Accursed fatal hand that has contrived this woeful tragedy!
“The Earl of Salisbury conquered in thirteen battles. He was the first who trained King Henry V in warfare. While any trumpeter sounded, or any drummer struck, his sword never stopped striking in the battlefield.
“Are you still living, Earl of Salisbury? Though your speech fails, you still have one eye to look to Heaven for grace and mercy. The Sun with its one eye views the entire world.
“Heaven, be gracious to no one who is alive, if the Earl of Salisbury lacks mercy at your hands!
“Sir Thomas Gargrave, do you have any life left? Speak to me, or look up at me.”
Sir Thomas Gargrave was dead.
Lord Talbot ordered, “Carry his body away; I will help to bury it.”
He then said, “Earl of Salisbury, cheer your spirit with this comfort. You shall not die while —.”
He did not finish his sentence, but instead said about the Earl of Salisbury, “He beckons with his hand and smiles at me like a man who would say, ‘When I am dead and gone, remember to avenge me on the French.’ Plantagenet, I will.”
The Earl of Salisbury’s family name was not Plantagenet, but he was related to the Plantagenets.
Lord Talbot continued, “And I will, like you, Roman Emperor Nero, play on the lute as I watch the towns burn. Wretched and fearful shall the French be if they only hear my name.”
The Roman Emperor Nero was said to have played music while watching Rome burn.
A battle call sounded, and lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.
Lord Talbot asked, “What commotion is this? What tumult is in the Heavens? From where comes this call to battle and this noise?”
A messenger arrived and said, “My lord, my lord, the French have gathered a fighting force. The Dauphin, who has joined with one Joan la Pucelle, a newly risen holy prophetess, has come with a great army to raise the siege.”
The Earl of Salisbury raised himself up on one arm and groaned.
Lord Talbot said, “Hear, hear how the dying Salisbury groans! It irks his heart that he cannot be revenged. Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you. Pucelle or puzel, dolphin or dogfish, your hearts I’ll stamp out with my horse’s heels, and I’ll make a quagmire of your mingled brains.”
A “puzel” was a whore. The dolphin was a highly regarded creature of the sea, while a dogfish — a species of small shark — was a lowly regarded creature of the sea.
Lord Talbot ordered, “Convey the Earl of Salisbury for me into his tent, and then we’ll try what these dastardly Frenchmen dare. We will fight these cowardly French soldiers.”
***
Copyright by Bruce D. Bruce; All Rights Reserved
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Jason “Jay” Mizell, aka Jam Master Jay of Run-DMC, was quite the dandy in high school. He wore Lee jeans, black-and-white shell-toed Adidas sneakers, a black velour hat complete with a feather—and he always made sure that the color of his shirt matched the color of his shoelaces. However, eventually he grew tired of changing the shoelaces in his sneakers each morning, so he started to wear sneakers without any shoelaces. After all, he reasoned, “It matches—no shoelaces matches with everything!” After he became famous, he remained very much the same, choosing to live in a modest home in his hometown of Hollis, Queens, and choosing to give back to the community. Frequently, he allowed local musicians to use his Merrick Avenue recording studio free of charge. On many Saturdays, if he was not touring, he could be found in a neighborhood park teaching kids how to play basketball or chess. Jay made his mother proud—although when he was a kid, she worried about him. One day, he met a friend by accident on Hollis Avenue. Unfortunately, the friend had just burgled a house. Also unfortunately, a police car arrived on the scene. The friend ran; Jay was arrested and spent a few days in a tough juvenile detention center. Not wanting his mother to worry about him, he told her that the stay in the detention center had been fun. Most unfortunately of all, this attempt to make his mother feel better failed horribly. Convinced that her son was becoming a hardened criminal, she cried.
Memphis garage-punk musician Jay Reatard, nee Jay Lindsey, once made a single with another musician in Austria. The agreement was that together they would issue the single for a European tour, and that later Mr. Lindsey would be able to use the single for another project. Without authorization, the guy in Austria made copies of the single. According to Mr. Lindsey, he “pressed it on a clear, six-inch square that plays from the inside out,” then sold the single on eBay for $280 per copy. He did send Mr. Lindsey a few copies of the specially pressed single. Of course, Mr. Lindsey wasn’t happy that an unauthorized use was being made of his work, so he told the guy in Austria, “Since you gave me nine copies, I’ll sell them on eBay and have enough money for a ticket to Austria to kick your *ss. He chilled out after that.” Actually, Mr. Lindsey kept one copy for himself, but unfortunately lost it when moving. He gave the other copies away to friends who he knew would keep and not sell them.
James Todd Smith, aka LL Cool J, knew from an early age that he wanted a record deal. When James was 11 years old, he wanted a dirt bike; instead, his grandfather bought him a set of turntables, a microphone, two speakers, and a mixer—everything James needed to develop into LL Cool J. And when he started making homemade tapes and sending them to record companies, his mother bought him a drum machine so he could make better tapes. The gifts and James’ hard work paid off. Rick Rubin, co-creator of Def Jam Records, heard and liked the tape and met James, who told the white Jewish American, “Yo! I thought you were black!” Of course, James didn’t care whether James was black or white, Jewish or non-Jewish. He said, “I didn’t care if Rick Rubin was purple and worshipped penguins. He could have been Ronald McDonald, as long as I got a record deal.”
Rhett Miller, lead vocalist for the popular alterative country/rock band The Old 97’s, is a funny guy. Asked about his hidden talents, he says, “I can hang at least eight spoons from my face (including ears) at once. I do this to amuse small children and embarrass bigger children. I did it at my own wedding reception. I intend to do it at my funeral.” And when asked about what is “essential to life: coffee, vodka, cigarettes, chocolate, or…,” he says, “Jameson’s Irish Whisky. I used to think sleep, but now that I have kids I know that to be false. You can live without it, but man, you get cranky sometimes.”
Willie Nelson is a true original. For one thing, his legal real first name is Willie instead of William. For another, he has produced much, much original country music that has at times baffled record producers and companies. For example, in 1975, Mr. Nelson recorded the concept album Red Headed Stranger for Columbia Records, his first record for them. A producer was baffled: “Did he make this in his living room? It’s a piece of sh*t! It sounds like he did this for about two bucks. It’s not produced.” The album is now considered a classic.
Many of the early Ramones’ songs had “I Don’t Wanna” in the title: “I Don’t Wanna Go Down in the Basement,” “I Don’t Wanna Walk Around with You,” and “I Don’t Wanna Be Learned/I Don’t Wanna Be Tamed.” Dee Dee Ramone joked, “We didn’t write a positive song until “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue.”
Yousuf Karsh had the honor of photographing many, many great men and women and talk to them. When he took Albert Einstein’s portrait, he asked the great scientist what the world would be like after another atomic bomb explosion. Mr. Einstein replied, “Alas, we will no longer be able to hear the music of Mozart.”
Not all elevator music is bad. Pianist Richard Goode was once in an elevator where the music was a Chopin nocturne. Even after arriving at his floor, Mr. Goode stayed in the elevator, listening to the nocturne until it was over.
Composers often write notes about how to play their music. The notes sound wonderful in Italian. For example, “allegro non troppo” means “quick/not too much.”
“Every song is a gospel song. All music is sacred. Every note of music in the world is spiritual and sacred … and that’s the gospel truth. Amen.” — Willie Nelson.
Sir Malcolm Sargent was once asked what a musician needed to know to play the cymbals. He replied, “Nothing — just when.”
While listening to piano music, George Sand preferred to sit directly underneath the piano.
***
Copyright by Bruce D. Bruce; All Rights Reserved
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