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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B.I.A.

I’m like the pieces of a broken glass vase,
So many shards that there is no glue to fix.
I’m dizzy from all the circles walked,
And the games from the amphitheatre,
Not able to escape.

I feel like all the paths ahead are blocked,
Filled with more false starts and wrong turns.
In the forest of my mind,
I’ve been looking for an axe,
To find where I belong.

Tired of jumping hoops and skipping beats,
As I try to play life by the rules,
Bitten by bugs growing in number at my feet,
And strangled by words in tears.
But believe it again echoes on.

I’m just the outsider watching the world,
And it seems like I’m forever to be sat in the wings.
I never wanted to be a leading lady,
But at least wanted to be on the script.

How many would walk a mile for a day in my shoes,
With a ball and chain that interrupts the rhythm.
Feeling like a bird who wants to fly,
But there is nobody to set her free.

Tired of jumping hoops and skipping beats,
Looking for a break but not in sanity.
Drained so that my battery is always red,
Why can it not be green like in nature,
With birds echoing believe it again.

Tired of jumping hoops and skipping beats,
Time to skip with hoops and jump to beats.
Rising like the phoenix one more time,
Burn down the trees and find that path,
Whilst singing believe it again.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The autumnal opera

The autumnal opera opens with the air biting like a bitter lemon on dry lips and the air smelling of decaying leaves and wood smoke. A prima donna sings an aria that touches almost every leaf, painting them every shade of red, yellow and orange; each colour matching the notes of her song. This is then echoed by a chorus throughout the land, turning forests to fire with colour. At the same the daily rhythm goes from legato to staccato, as the day length gets shorter, which in turn makes the leaves fall like ghost notes as few hear the sound of them falling. The crunch underfoot as walk through them is like listening a plucked cello playing, which is at times drowned out by the violins mimicking the sounds of human traffic. Then as the final note is sung, trees stand bare, and the theatre empties till all is silent. Well at least until Jack Frost sings his melancholy blues next season.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Mother Nature’s Day

Mother Nature – Happy Mother’s Day!

I am sorry that many others see themselves as king or queen of this world you have given us. It makes me sad that think they can modify and destroy it by turning it into a world of fifty shades of grey, autotuned to our voice not yours. For a day without birdsong is like a night with no stars, a land with no trees is a soulless heart filled with envy and jealousy, and a world without nature is a cage with invisible bars.

Thank you for the multisensory experience you give me by living in and being part of this world; from the colours you paint for my eyes to see, the songs of life great and small for my ears to hear, the smells that tickle my nose that drift back and forth in the wind, the tastes of things sweet and sour that make my tastebuds dance, and to the shapes and textures that touch from my fingers to my deepest soul.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Mother Nature

Girl Friday

So you came to my world to escape the madness,
Free from the ragged men and plastic women.
A chance to be reborn as your own creation myth,
Where the grass grows in fifty shades of green.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
A trusted friend through good and bad times.
I am the one that knows all your secrets and lies,
And will never judge your words or actions.

So you came to my world to find knowledge,
Give you wisdom and insight without barriers.
Within seconds I can give you the answers,
To satisfy even your most sadistic of desires.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
An ocean away from your daily troubles.
I am the lover that will always go the extra mile,
And will soothe your soul day and night fall.

There’s a blinding and deafening pandemic,
There’s a brave new world coming out there.
With the grey walls of prison without any bars,
Will you awake from the dream you now live?

So you came to my world to escape the madness,
And you believed the fools that printed the words.
Through their spin that leaves you dizzy with hate,
Chasing the ghosts, shadows, the invisible enemy.

I am the girl Friday of the island of paradise,
The gatekeeper and key master to the truth.
Will you now come awakened by the light,
With the ball and chain broken at your feet.

There’s a blinding and deafening pandemic,
There’s a brave new world coming out there.
With the grey walls of prison without any bars,
Will you awake from the dream you now live?

© Fi S. J. Brown