pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)
August Moon Day 10 prompt: I love the power of music to lift the spirits. I head to the stereo and put on...

Jam Coffeehouse

...Candi Staton singing "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me," a forty-six-year-old song when I first heard it in The Jam Coffeehouse back in 2012. It may have been Madeline Bell's take on it, or Renee Geyer's -- or, this being Nashville, who knows, someone here in town with a good set of pipes. None of the versions I've listened to since quite match what I remember, but I wasn't paying close attention to the cafe stereo in the first place, which made it all the more annoying several weeks later when I realized the chorus was still in my head.

I find the lyrics of the entire song pretty creepy, truth be told, and most of the melody doesn't grab me either. But that first/third line of the chorus: Just four notes. Maybe three measures? Sometimes that's all it takes. Sometimes I sing along with the mp3 on my computer, and sometimes that line leaps out of my lungs at random -- a bolt of attitude between deadlines or destinations. (And sometimes I get super-silly and sing "dog dog-dog dog-dog-dog dog doggggg /dog dog dog / dog dog dog" at Miss Abby.)

"Lift the spirits" isn't quite the right phrase for me. I have been known to turn up Alkan's piano concerto when I'm upset, but I don't associate "comfort" with "lift." Left to my own devices, I'm likely to turn to myself music [hello, Freudian typo!] not for uplift or lightening up, but to provide whatever I'm in the throes of -- anger, ambition, gratitude, grief, nerdiness, nostalgia -- with company and fuel.

Gingerbread sculpture

This gingerbread jukebox was on display in Asheville a few years ago. Speaking of intense... :-)

This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/114268.html.
pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)
from one side of the gate

August Moon day 8 prompt:
I sat outside and told my secrets to the moon. This was her reply: ....


The sun was high in the sky when I rose
and yet cannot melt
tiaras into bullets
or bullets into bedpans
or bedpans into spades

nor coax fresh fruit
from smothered seeds.

Who are you to despair
at stones not turned
and leaves no longer new

when you stand but a step
and a hinge-life away
from a sky with different answers?

from the other side of the gate

~pld


  • Both photos were taken earlier tonight.

  • I took a break between stanzas to walk some magazines around the corner. There is already the scent of burning leaves in the air.


  • This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/113865.html.
    pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)
    August Moon Day 7 prompt: I pull back the curtain and I see...

    Bercy, 2011

    ...a game between strangers
    who see each other often
    but not away
    from the courts
    or the parties

    just as I blink
    stumbling into someone
    out of their Sunday best
    as I exit a shower

    -- yes, a fig leaf
    would fool me.
    My garden is thick
    with saplings
    so green
    they would smother
    an angel's sword
    with all
    of their wayward
    veinglory.

    ~pld

    This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/113448.html.
    pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)
    August Moon Day 4 prompt: So I had a conversation with my shadow...

    IMG_0563

    ... where she asked me what kind of net
    I would want to knot
    cast
    cradle
    mend

    were time no object
    and money no limit

    men's spa/salon

    I said to her, I
    am both oil and water
    whip and trench
    slipper and shard
    caper and crutch

    Down the street

    I'll meet you at the corner
    where the wind
    has been whisking
    shreds of tealeaves
    past the lost screws
    of stray sunglasses.

    ~pld

    This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/113130.html.
    pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)
    August Moon Day 4 prompt: So I had a conversation with my shadow...

    IMG_0563

    ... where she asked me what kind of net
    I would want to knot
    cast
    cradle
    mend

    were time no object
    and money no limit

    men's spa/salon

    I said to her, I
    am both oil and water
    whip and trench
    slipper and shard
    caper and crutch

    Down the street

    I'll meet you at the corner
    where the wind
    has been whisking
    shreds of tealeaves
    past the lost screws
    of stray sunglasses.

    ~pld

    This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/113130.html.

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