alisonhankinson

The Four Last Songs. Music and Chaos.

A cadenza shrill and sharp

Pizzicato from the harp

Andante and legato

Swan song from the cello.

Clefs, chords and counterpoint

From fiery exposition to development

Magnificent muti-tonal orchestration

Tumultuous recapitulation.

Finally four last songs

Lamenting loss, lyrical and forlorn

Musical maverick Strauss is gone

The garden mourns.

This is for Real Toads, where the theme is Chaos. Bjorn talked of physics and mathematics, and it brought me round to music. Music is very mathematical and can be very precise and beauty and precision is borne from weaving together many delicate strands. It reminded me of two great twentieth-century composers who pushed music to its chaotic and mathematical limits. Alban Berg and Richard Strauss. Alban Berg’s Violin concerto is a masterpiece of mathematical precision, but I opted for Richard Strauss’s Four Last Songs. The final line is from these and is the first line of September, written by Hermann Hesse.

These are my late September images…

Last day of September.

Raucous russet leaves

Brambles burgeoning with berries

Onset of October.

Sunrise earlier this week and trees and berries today, perhaps a little hopeful on “burgeoning” These are my small things. They make my world spin. I am linking this to real toads midweek challenge.

Seaside Summer Blues…

Buckets spades and sandcastles

Donkeys on the beach

Paddling at the water’s edge

Family in easy reach.

Seashells on the shoreline

Waves lapping at our feet

Coconut oil and sunburn

Ice cream 99’s for a treat.

Arcade penny slot machines

Grab machines galore

Potted shrimps and cockles in a tub

Mum goes back for more.

Holidays at the seaside

Family fun days out

Car breaks down on the way back home

That’s what summer was all about.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Serenade to a misspent youth…..

Pink organza dress

A sea of roses in her hair

Undercurrent of sensual sorceress.

Scents of love promised

Followed by adrenalin rush.

Temptress divine

A moment of indiscretion

That claimed you as mine.

Followed by a tsunami of regret

And a lifetime of commitment.

Image:

Raimundo-de-Madrazo-y-Garreta

Aline with Flowers, Free to use for non commercial use.

I have decided to submit this poem for d’Verse open link night. I wrote it at the weekend. It took me a while to find an image that I liked, and I actually discovered a lot of images by Garreta that I liked, so that was a bonus.

Summer sleeps…

Hibernating hedgehogs

Slumbering squirrels

Luscious leaves crunch beneath my feet

As autumn prevails

Ochre turns to burgundy

Mist upon the hills

Children wrapped up snuggly

To keep them safe from seasonal chills.

This is for d’Verse meeting at the bar… is the season where many creatures are going to sleep for the winter- the trees were amazing today-but I only had my cellphone to get photos with…. I wanted to feel justified in my choice of burgundy….

Snowflake obsidian and the search for truth…

Volcanic igneous gemstone

Black, brave and beautiful shards of midnight glass

Give me peace and calm and inner light, reflect the moonlight.

Snowflake obsidian

Talisman around my neck,

As passion ignites my fury and the truth cannot be silenced.

Protect and purify

Cleanse my soul in the darkness of this night

Reflect the majesty of a thousand warriors.

Pele Goddess of fire

Watch over me, give me strength to fight

Let me vanquish the evil voices that speak to me

From the belly of the volcano.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This was for d’Verse and is about snowflake obsidian which is one of the gemstones associated with my birth sign Scorpio- there are six in total- beryl, apache tear, aquamarine, coral, obsidian, and topaz. Snowflake Obsidian, is a stone associated with Scorpio in Ayurvedic astrology. It is a beautiful colour, and is seen as a talisman. I have always been drawn to truth, this is a Scorpion characteristic, but also something that came to me through my name. Alice is of teutonic origin and means “the wise counsellor, or the truthful one.” I think Alison came from Alice.

The image is in the public domain for reuse and was taken from Flickr.

Shades of Dad.

Winter

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

Christmas Carols ringing in my ears.

The fug of the snug

Stench of sweat and old men.

Scent of Old Spice wafts across the bar

And the unmistakable

Aroma of clan pipe tobacco

Lingers in the air.

This is for d’Verse quadrille.

The photo is actually of my Dad’s dad, (My Grandad).

Hope and Anchor.

Robin singing in the hawthorn tree

A timely reminder for me.

That this day is full of hope.

It was a difficult week this week, and for a while there I was at a bit of a low ebb. Funny what can and does knock us of our course and it is hope that pulls me through.

A few years ago when we were having some colossal woes at a school I was working in, a senior leader proposed that hope was what would steer us forward. Someone questioned this was a valid foundation for any future to be built on and I felt like saying loudly with all my head and heart that sometimes hope is all we have.

The Hope and Anchor is the pub in the village where Dad lives, and it was where we had our wedding reception, and I think that hope was one of the things that my parents taught me to value. Faith Hope and Love.

The images were taken today in Port Carlisle, where Dad lives.