Songs are like time charts mapping out life’s milestones, joys and heartbreaks. The joys remembered the first bars of a song and our brain is wisked back in time with the same elation. The heartbreaks pull you back with a heavy heart but not a hopeless one, since you did manage to survive it. The hard lessons in life are marked by songs as well…so much of our lives are frozen in capsules with musical notes. Wouldn’t it be amazing writing one’s autobiography through song alone? And with technology today, the visual would be outstanding!
The first thought that came to mind when I saw the theme for this week’s SongLyricSunday was Fast Cars by Tracy Chapman. The time was February 1995. It was at that time a 28 year relationship fell apart. It was a difficult time for all…especially our children. Teens need stability in their lives and they were being served a huge bowl of chaos.
She loves this time of year. Flowers are in bloom overflowing in gardens. Four more weeks admiring the golds, lavender and magenta before leaves start their own autumn performance.
overgrown gardens
hanging on
until death befalls
overgrown gardens
boasting
with beauty
hanging on
caterpillar on a twig
transforms with wings
until death befalls
petals form an undercoat
autumn leaves
Here is a poem AC gave the family for Easter when she was in kindergarten. On the card it reads, “Retold by AC”
The air is like a butterfly
with frail blue wings
the happy earth looks at the sky
and sings
Today, I sit and think of her with loving thoughts. It is her birthday today, on August 31st …my baby is no longer a baby but a blue butterfly that sings…
baby girl born filled with innocence air so pure
baby girl born
always a baby in eyes
of a mother
filled with innocence
shedding day by day
butterfly wings
air so pure
like the sound of her voice
when she sings
&
life’s goodies
filled with spice – and,
everything nice
carving metaphors
listening to their moans
grieving hearts echo
chagrin spills freely
indigo on parchment
(c)Tournesol ’18/08/23
This my first time writing for this challenge and I know I am a bit late, Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Challenge: sad and write but we are to use only synomyms.
The drama teacher told us the other day that the boys do not emote enough and asked me and Francine to give examples. Is she kidding? I am a bundle of emotions. My soul and heart are like a bunch of elastics that pile one on to the other building a ball bigger than a golf ball. Each elastic can snap at the knowledge of sadness, pain and suffering. An elastic or two will snap if there is hatred and bitterness. I am the most ridiculous example of someone you should NOT be like. But these guys need examples, she said.
Well, I beg to differ, Mrs. Messier! These boys know how to emote alright. They did it just fine when they were babies, even as toddlers but when they got to nursery school at the ripe OLD age of 3 and 4, they were laughed at for showing emotions. …
The man had a thick brown beard that hid his face and neck. His small brown eyes were hidden under his bushy eyebrows. He was not tall and for North American standards, he was leaning towards short. The man walked with a purpose like a bear searching for his prey. Not a sound, not an expression, just bland apathy painted on his face.
I hid behind the couch with my friend looking out at this strange man who had already kidnapped four of my friends and a baby. The police had been contacted by the man but I never heard anything from them.
My friend refused to run with me saying it was no use and she feared the man would only get more agitated and shoot us.
I refused to give in without a fight, so I ran out the back door, jumped into my car and drove off to my old apartment where I had lived ten years ago. The superintendent recognized me as I ran to him telling him I had to hide somewhere safe. We went up to the sixth floor and looked out the window of his brother’s condo. The bearded man had followed me. I had to run again. I was running out of options. My heart beat so quickly, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Then, I remembered the secret hallway on this floor. The superintendent knew my plan the moment I ran towards that hallway and told me to take his car, handing me his keys. He said his car was where he always parked and he would try to slow the bearded man to give me a head start.
The hallway brought me to a fire escape which landed behind two brown dumpsters. The super’s car was there and I drove out the private exit that only the firemen were allowed entry. I had no idea where I could hide. I didn’t want to go to my workplace downtown to put my colleagues at risk. My car was going west out of an old habit, towards the airport and then I thought of Rick. No one knew of my past employment there. It was too long ago and the warehouse would be a great place to hide so I could get in contact with the police.
I drove to the side entrance of the warehouse and the huge doors were open, so I parked my car inside and screamed, “We have to lock down now!” The shipper recognized me and buzzed Rick as he closed all doors. I hid between the racks of nuts and bolts, too afraid to be seen in the front office.
Suddenly I was in the office and so many people crowding around me with concern on their faces. I briefly told Rick and asked if he could let me stay there. I went into his office and called the detective who was in charge of the case. Detective No Name said to sit tight, that his men were still negotiating and told me not to worry.
“Not worry!! It has been 36 hours and five people have been kidnapped and still nothing! What are you doing to about this?”
Detective No Name explained he had other more urgent cases he was working on…his voice trailed and I yelled, “What is the amount of the ransom?” I was contemplating that I might be able to borrow from my mother’s house not yet sold and there is a little bit left in her estate. I was wondering how many hundreds of thousands of dollars the ransom could be and discouragement started to weigh on me.
“The kidnapper is asking for $3,000.00”.
WHAT?!!! All this trouble for so little money?!!” I could not believe my ears. What kind of desperate person kidnaps so many people for $3,000?
“Let me just pay it! Why can’t I just speak to the kidnapper when he calls you? Do you know how many lives are at stake right now…how f*&^g stupid are you guys?!”
My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I rolled over trying to get back to sleep to visit with Rick.
(c) Cheryl-Lynn ’18/08/19
Author’s note: The bearded man looked exactly like , Huck, a character in the series Scandal. Rick was my employer and friend when I first moved to Toronto. He and his family made such a difference in my adjusting to my move away from home in the late 90’s. A year after I left his employment, I got a call at work from an employee at his warehouse that he was tragically killed in a biking accident…such a tragedy for a young man in his early 30’s. I still think about him. I feel blessed that I still am in contact with his family and twin sister from time to time.
I often get odd dreams with my mom or grandmother but this is the first time Rick has ever visited me in a dream. I could never get him back when I went back to sleep, only Mister Beard kept turning up.