The Richness of voice.

I wanted to celebrate with a post, the voices or sounds that have moved me and stayed with me since the first words I heard come from their mouths.

The voices of mesmerising qualities that we can hear in these two men are simply beautiful. There are others who have the “Voicefactor”, the qualities which make whatever they read feel true, and absolutely believable; the ability to make your legs wobble. The celebration of sound and tone of the ones I am sharing today, for me at least stand out as exceptional.
Not being able to show them all here today saddens me, but the wonderful tone of Dame Maggie Smith (just showing I’m not sexist ageist or anyother geist) Betty Davis another such voice, one that curled your toes and made a thousand new born spiders run up your neck ( metaphorically speaking ).

Some not many, but some singers voices resonate, and are remembered more for their voice than the music. Louis Armstrong, Barry White, Leonard Choen and the wonderful Joe Cocker. I am not sexist there are superb females with the same qualities Janice Joplin springs to mind.

Leave a word, be kind, let me know your feelings; do you disagree or know better?
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A Nod to Poe.

At waters edge in caverns deep,
He wandered in repose.
Seeking of his one true love,
Through moon’s latent glows.

Leaving wake upon wake,
Over sea’s far and wide.
When a mermaid swept him
Off on the ebb of a tide.

In honour of Edgar Allan Poe born 19th January 1809

Picture is a free download from pixabay a fabulous resource.

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Sinner or sin.

There’s nothing as pure as sin…

Delivered in the name of god,
Street woman killed with a builders hod.
Against the bible he said
As he left her for dead.

Stan smirked as he stood in the dock,
Fluffed and preened like a cock.
He said he had a right,
To take a life that dreary night.

Twenty years he got locked inside,
Twenty years to sit and hide.
Time where he’s allowed to breathe,
Where decent folk pay for his every need.

Still, she lies no blood to bleed
For walking streets to make a crust
Along came Stan her head he bust,
All that’s left are thoughts and dust.

W.H. Auden and inspiration.

I post this simply because, it had not once crossed my mind, that everyone didn’t know and love the words of Auden. Many poets float my proverbial boat, but none as wonderfully as Auden.

I never want to loose sight of what I am not, or what I would strive to be . I know I am not worthy to call myself a poet, or any such descriptive name. I am but a woman who loves the feel of words. I am someone who is humbled by the words that have been spaced in a certain way. Words that will forever outlive me or thee, so I lay a few of these words below. I hope to bring back this old friend to the eyes of those who would enjoy being reminded of him. Maybe to give someone who has not read any Auden, a chance to taste the tiniest of  snippets of his work. I hope you enjoy the words as much as I do.

 
 

Take a moment.

Beaver swimming in the Tarn,
French men partaking of a yarn.
A distant Donkey has a bray
As we begin a brand new day.

Smell the coffee taste the bread,
See the Heron overhead.
Laundry drying on a line
The forest scents the air with pine.

Blossoming flora amongst the trees
Being pollinated by busy bees.
Every second of every day beauty is abound,
If only we stop to  look around.

While she sleeps

She quietly weeps
and while she sleeps,
she sheds the tears that spill,
The love that still
Has time to bloom.
I taste it with a spoon.
Allow the depth of flavour to
Fill your mouth, it is for you to savour.
It will feed your heart
With endless yesterdays.

My little combination.