Content: music

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This prologue is the sequel to my first work - Forbidden Fruit. I would like feedback, critique, etc.

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Using prosetry to explore the difference between the student and the teacher, the artist and the journeyman is challenging. Finding common language for both sides of a painting, symphony, poem, i.e., the creator and the patron is never easy. Still, we owe it to ourselves and those who might respect our work, to make such an effort.

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3-D printing is a real technology. Not sure if morticians use it yet, but they will someday, somewhere in the world.≈≈≈ This is for my 10 Stories - 10 Screenplays project. ≈≈≈ Wanted a very visual story. Original title: The Death of Print ≈≈≈ Thanks

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There are many reasons for writing poetry. This may be one of the more common. Comments welcome.

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Rewrite. It is horror, but literary? I am lost in the forest of the trees after writing this and I chopped away with my tense ax, but can't see the clear sky yet. ≈≈≈ Another version of this is coming down the chute soon. This is the first of 15 (with 2 versions = 30) short stories I will be rewriting for an envisioned book of short stories. ≈≈≈ This is not a true story. I CAN'T MAKE CORRECTION SINCE IT IS 5.87K, THUS IT IS IN THE DREADED RED STATE- måx

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This is more of a freeing of one's soul Not sure regarding formal format or allowing it to simply go where it wants to go. Perhaps it is simply a gift to me as a writer... to just let the words flow freely, with no rules holding me back... no particular audience to please... just one soul putting into words her experiences... Any feedback.. It may ramble a bit but I think that would be appropriate ate times. These are thoughts in verses.

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Hailey and Beth were once best friends. Since Beth fell in love with a popular boy, she ditched Hailey for a taste of popularity. Hailey copes by listening to music, especially a band that her father is the lead singer of. All her life she's dreamt of meeting him, but her mother's sensitivity on the subject has prevented her from ever seeing him in concert. No one understands her need for music, until David. He's a bad boy that she spent all senior year avoiding, but when he starts to creep under her skin, she can't shake him. Soon, he becomes her best friend, even better than Beth ever was. He's the only one she can talk to about music and her dad. But he's made it clear that he wants to add 'benefits' to their friendship, without taking that step into a dating relationship; which is something she is opposed to, but tempted to fall into. Looking for whether this story is identifiable. Are the characters likeable? Can you feel the conflicts in Hailey's life? Is this something that you would recommend to a teenager? Adult?

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blues song /the big easy all feedback

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I just put this together as a parting poem. It took me all of thirty minutes to write. Wanted to leave you with a high note, literally. I will always be a part of the TNBW family. I have a daughter going through a crisis and for a short while I have to put the metaphors away. I will keep my pen filled with ink until we are reunited again. Thank you so much for not only welcoming me into your house, but allowing to walk on the red carpet as well. You are all my heroes... This is not a great poem, but there is love between the lines.

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Is Ana just a self-pitying teen, haunted by the memory of her dead mother and sister, or is there something more serious going on? I appreciate all comments and feedback.

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My new husband and I love totally different music. He is a bass player of Jazz.. while I can enjoy it... he doesn't really embrace my simple need for 'gut reaction to music.' Music has been my escape through abuse and sorrow. I live within music. He lives within correctness of music I think. These are simply raw emotions I expressed after we both listened to some music. He wasn't stirred by mine and I was left wanting by his.

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Not sure it works, these things rarely do for me. All comments welcome.

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A couple weeks ago I ran into an old friend, a musician, playing in a small bar in a small town. He's quite an accomplished player and singer, though he never had more than regional success. He plays blues and rock with his current band but he can hold his own in many other genres. This poem is for him and, in a sense, about him.

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On my walk today I wondered about all the great men and women who had original ideas and this idea literally unrolled into my head very much as it appears here. The force was with me writing as Obi Wan then the evil side invaded my mind and I lost control, or was it visa-versa?

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The muses call out to us all, for all our lives...

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Harlem Jazz and Blues legends return for a final encore. I dedicate this poem to anyone who said I don't know how to have fun as a poet. Any comments are appreciated.

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Heard some beautiful a capella singing in the busy local mall tonight and listened for a little while. The Mennonite way of life, lived in the midst of a secular world, must be a challenge. Though not as immersed in their own culture as the Amish, they adhere to a pretty plain and humble path. Their singing perfectly exemplified their religious beliefs.

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Inspired by some friends in the music business who sometimes need a word of encouragement.

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Does duty preclude a young girl coming of age? Where is the line drawn between common sense and public opinion? Feedback welcome

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The Ayim Gorath, a powerful race of women, must find a genematch for their princess and create an heir. They set their sights on Rayler Hubb, a wayfaring rock star on his way past their planet. While captured and forced to join their Orgasmium -- or man harem -- Rayler can only communicate with women. Since the only nearby, non-hostile carrier of the X chromosome is Jennique, his on-again, off-again secret soul mate who won't speak to him, Rayler will have to use a combination of wits, musicianship, and sex appeal to free himself before the princess is impregnated and he's chopped up and fed to the Royal Court. ***This is something new I'm working on. I'm not sure whether it's a short story or a novelette. It's a soft sci-fi/romance/action-adventure story.***

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The death of a church pianist and music teacher doesn't mean her music will die.

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Glance at Sapsorrow's "Syncing @ the speakeasy and was inspired.

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Churches are being divided into contemporary and traditional in the same buildings now and one does not know what to do with the other is it a bit of religious snobbery of is it meeding the needs of all

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My picture of venerable old Jazzheads paying homage to their music.

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An expression of the sights and sounds of Jazz music through word.

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I was listening to music, passing a Christmas Eve fraught with mixed emotions, and this just popped into my head. As songs rolled out of the headset, memories tumbled, unbidden, from their dark corners, ghost-like. Hence the title. Believe it or not, it is not about depression, merely the memories music can evoke, when the house is still, and change is the only whisper in the air. It is hard not to examine love, its gain and loss, when the musical selections range from Melissa Ethridge to Chris Isaak. Basically, I let the poem filter from the songs I had on the stereo at the time.

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I was up in the wee hours, and it was raining. My spirit was restless, so I sat and listened to it for about 4 hours, trying to pray; get some peace in my soul. This is what came of it!

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