Spring Song

Spring’s song begins today in the northern hemisphere with snowdrops ringing to wake all sleeping from their winter’s sleep. The croci playing bass, giving a rhythmic and harmonic foundation to the world. With the melody sung by the newborn wildlife throughout the land, reverberating through hills and valleys, and the trees and bushes their backing singers resplendent in their new season green clothes.
 
Every year this song can be heard but how few of us stop to see, hear and feel it? Mother Nature displaced as the leading lady, as we humans do our cover version. We insult her further by autotuning our voices as cannot sing in her unique style, colour or pitch. With footprints stamping across the world like a booming hip hop beat. Forming chorus lines full of grey, filled with drills and bombs tainted with fear, jealousy and hate.
 
© Fi S. J. Brown
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Living is…

Living is a piece of music that is our tune,

Breathing and heart are the rhythm and beat,

Speaking is the lyrics of our unique adventure,

Meeting others make the key major or minor,

Being true to ourselves is the harmonious melody,

And copying another is a bad cover version.

 

Living is a piece of art that is our masterpiece,

Seeing is the world painted with our eyes in multicolour,

Touching and feelings are sculpted into shapes,

Hearing vibrates and echoes form the layers of paint,

Smelling is the essence of ourselves distilled,

And tasting is being satisfied with what we have.

 

© Fi S. J. Brown

Beating depression

Depression you will not beat me:

I shall turn your rhythm upside down and turn you into a happy song of colour not grey melancholy blues;

I shall sing a melody that echoes the birds outside my window and not that of a caged ones lament;

I shall survive with the lyrics written my left wrist and “believe it again” as their wisdom echoes within my soul;

I shall play it like Sam until my dying day and never give up on myself or others, or wave that flag of white.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Soothe my soul

I went to the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, yesterday afternoon, a place that really helps to soothe and calm my soul. The flowers vibrating in the wind sounded like Tibetan singing bowls, all different tones to match the different species and colours, making my every step like a mediation. The trees gave me hugs like a parent to a child, with their overwhelming height and branches so long, I felt loved and safe in their arms. Watching the animals, birds and squirrels, they took my worries in their wings or up trees far away where they could no longer hurt me and stop me dwelling. The river that runs throughout whispered to me I must relax; stopping to watch her flow felt like a massage touching my every part, and by the end her rhythm had become one with my heartbeat. 

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