Notes Found On The Refrigerator July 2017
A Melancholy song
Songs are hidden in the words we speak. —sometimes in harmony
with the background hum of those we did not
know or ever meet.
Our melody can sometimes be disheartening
as well as our belly aching, vomiting
between the screeching cacophonous dominant notes
we may have perceived.
My music repetitively keeps playing yesterday’s Rock & Roll songs,
Rhythm & Blues songs, gospel’s black and white songs
—they are all fine—
But, go to the window and lift the shade
and hum them—
as you look at the sun and the future of rain.
Sing off-key if you must —loud and unalarmed.
Sing the songs that are hidden in the conscience that spoke without a word-
putting you in music unharmed.
Hum the song for unity in freedom
that has morally and musically given us;
without disrespect to life in the words
or thoughts written in our songs.
Or, what we sing.
*****
The Banjo Player
I was talking to an old banjo player, pushing a 103 yrs old the other day. I asked him how his band was doing. “Well,” he said, wiping his face with one hand. “It’s over. There were four of us. One is dead, which left three of us unable to play his part and ours at the same time. Besides that, one is as Cuckoo as a broken string. The other young fella, in his late eighties, besides losing his hair has also, seemingly, lost the beat. Towards the end, we realized we were all playing different tunes insisting the other guy was messing up… and looking at each other with the stare of “each of us had better catch-up”. And, what was worst, when we were all on the same song, forgetting the words, we would automatically pick people out in the audience and break out into “Happy Birthday, to You…”.
We still keep in touch…”’
There was a moment of silence, thinking he was reminiscing when he suddenly blurted out, “Now where was I? Oh ya! That was quite a box of good cigars”, sitting back in his chair with a great big smile.
*****
Oh sea glass greening
Passing through low and high tides
Speckling at my feet
*****
The path once well-worn
Through the passing of my youth
Is now overgrown
****
Tags: Growing up, Haiku, http://omukuvah.org/, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator, Peace, Tea, Zen
Beverly Crawford
August 15, 2017 at 6:21 pm
…”Sing if you must, sing loud and unafraid” … YES!
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Rall
August 14, 2017 at 10:36 am
I can see you as a banjo player:)
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annell4
August 14, 2017 at 9:38 am
A delightful write and I love your note about the piece! How cute…or is it? Maybe it is just how it is, we really play our own song, later on?
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Colleen@ LOOSELEAFNOTES
August 14, 2017 at 8:04 am
Yes, I feel the path should be well worn but mine is also overgrown.
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thotpurge
August 13, 2017 at 9:04 pm
That last haiku is an absolute beauty..summing it all up perfectly.
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Jae Rose
August 13, 2017 at 8:45 pm
You had me singing along ZQ!
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Mary
August 13, 2017 at 8:20 pm
There is really something about that old music, isn’t there?
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mhatter99
August 13, 2017 at 7:56 pm
Thanh you for these wonders, The banjo player was , my favorite.
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ayala zarfjian (@ayalazarfjian)
August 13, 2017 at 7:12 pm
Love the images. Great capture.
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Gillena Cox
August 13, 2017 at 6:50 pm
Luv the Banjo player haibun, Today. Happy you linked up at my Sunday Standard
much love…
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Sherry Blue Sky
August 13, 2017 at 1:45 pm
Oh my God! This is spectacular! I especially love – and can see – the banjo player. I got such a hoot out of the vision of them playing together, shooting each other looks, LOL. And your closing poem zaps me in the heart, akin to the EMT’s trying to revive our long-gone youth. Smiles. Now THAT is some good writing! How are you doing, kiddo?
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Donna@LivingFromHappiness
August 13, 2017 at 1:37 pm
You have the most amazing notes on your refrigerator 🙂
Loved it all but especially,
‘ The path once well-worn
Through the passing of my youth
Is now overgrown’
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Sanaa Rizvi (@rizvi_sanaa)
August 13, 2017 at 1:24 pm
‘Songs are hidden in the words we speak. —sometimes in harmony with the background hum of those we did not know or ever meet.’ Love this!💖
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Suyash
August 13, 2017 at 1:20 pm
Dan that’s one fine story!
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Beverly Crawford
August 13, 2017 at 1:09 pm
So much to enjoy here. Beautiful poem. Great story of the old banjo player, and I love the words
“The path once well worn through the passage of my youth is now overgrown” …
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humbird
August 13, 2017 at 12:41 pm
Ah, it’s so nostalgic, but I love the dominant sounds, and they are not cacophony for me. And yes, we can express everything just in humming…. Love your story, funny and sad. it’s okay to play different songs sometimes, just stay on the same scale…Reminded me playing in the band, however, we were trying to listen to each other…fun! great post, ZQ!
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Julian
August 13, 2017 at 12:35 pm
one is as Cuckoo as a broken string. …….love this line. Thank you for another enjoyable read, it made me smile in places and that is a good thing.
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Rosemary Nissen-Wade
August 13, 2017 at 11:22 am
I think it is a celestial music you describe. I like the advice to sing off-key ‘if you must’. (I’m afraid I must.)
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Sumana Roy
August 13, 2017 at 11:16 am
If only our language were a melody song, the earth would be a paradise. Thank god for the poets 🙂
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Truedessa
August 13, 2017 at 10:27 am
That was such an interesting read! I thought of how often in life we travel to the sound of our own beat. Out of tune or in tune with a new sense of reality. Hey, it’s always someone’s birthday!
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mindmatters
August 13, 2017 at 8:41 am
very nice!
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