The keys taste icy,
salty in this blue morning.
Wrecked pianos litter our shores.
Uprights gasp the foams
as their last songs drown in the tides.
Rusted strings claw sand.
Sunrise lights the sea.
As bards sing of running
away to Boston.
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 8, 2020
Sunday, September 9, 2018
№ 377. The Secret Life of Old Songs
This song about rediscovering our old selves and lovers made me smile. I paid no attention to it before until I watched "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" again, this time on Netflix. I actually liked how the movie tied up a lot of almost unrelated elements. Iceland, Greenland and Afghanistan were beautifully shot in wide panoramic format which just underscored the theme of a closeted traveler finally unmoored from the desk job and let loose to the chaos of the elements.
I didn't appreciate the movie the first time I watched it. I probably missed out on the many cultural references and the really stunning landscapes. But seeing it again in high definition and on a very big 70-inch or so screen made such a difference.
Escape (The Piña Colada Song)
Saturday, March 25, 2017
№ 298. Sunday Love Songs
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Thursday, May 5, 2016
№ 267. Crucify Your Mind
Was it a huntsman or a player
That made you pay the cost
That now assumes relaxed positions
And prostitutes your loss?
Were you tortured by your own thirst
In those pleasures that you seek
That made you Tom the curious
That makes you James the weak?
That made you pay the cost
That now assumes relaxed positions
And prostitutes your loss?
Were you tortured by your own thirst
In those pleasures that you seek
That made you Tom the curious
That makes you James the weak?
Monday, June 10, 2013
№ 129. Bookshelves from the Edge of Consciousness
"Call me by my true names" by Thich Nhat Hanh,
Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
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