Review: Overstory - Mix-Tape 43

Every word a peaceful meditation / every silence between rings wound / count leaves in quiet contemplation / count endless rings running loud / listen.. leaves are calling / listen.. silence is falling.. x

A mini homage to Richard Powers' glorious 2019 novel Overstory, published by Vintage Publishing. 

Available to buy from Bookshop.org here. (My Goodreads review).

In angelic feathers folded

under numinous dark skies

it’s revealed the blood of Eden

pours from shining eyes

There are ten degrees of strange

between solemn Earth and sky

between wary Raven’s feathers

and his midnight basking eye

 

He flies a path so awkward

tearing at the night

chasing an invisible sun

beneath a scarlet blood moonlight

 

In ancient creases of time

in the unhurried sap of trees

runs a heartwood strong enough to mitigate

the chaos deforestation leaves

 

Here tomorrow’s wisdom whispers

where ‘er the light will stray

and trees bear witness to our final days

watch us sleepwalk hope away

 

Miraflores falters, flailing

fearful of the day

bowed by prophetic visions

and the bells in Santa Fe

 

‘Love me to death’ she cries aloud

‘Help, help, for I am doomed!’

‘This winter of destruction’

‘has undone me far too soon!’

 

I’ll wait here in the undertow

sure, it’s merely a matter of time

before our spirits fall in nature’s tune

refuse to tow the faulty line

 

Hark, I hear a sound incoming

a voice from the wilderness

that cries ‘Ayo, my Babylon!’

‘I’ve come to ease your long duress,’

 

For many moons she’s sung her songs

patient, blessed Ocean Tree

hear her calling us to wake up!

turn and face the great reveal

 

The storm will not outlast her

for as sure as the wind will blow

she’ll regenerate the heartwood lands

rising from the Earth below

 

She’s been here longer than all the life you lived

before it started to descend

and she’ll be here till the firmament

is forced to make amends

 

This life like dream is ending

oh, creature of mine own

the tree rings are lined with glitter

bodies turning into stone

 

In angel feathers folded

under numinous wide sky

it is here the blood of Eden

will relinquish her disguise

Mix-Tape 40 - I Knew You

It's been almost 4 years since I first started dabbling in the art of playlisting on Spotify. Inspired by the beautiful, quirky and random mixtapes folk around my age used to make when we were kids and young adults. At first we created them to record songs we liked off the radio and not have to rely on radio DJs or our own meagre record and tape collections to listen to our favourite tracks. 

Later, as we became more practised and relatively affluent, our mixtape skills focused on compiling songs that worked well together and then sharing our mixes with friends. To make a mixtape for someone was one of the most romantic or caring gestures we could make. That hand-sized plastic package of carefully chosen music with a handwritten track list and sometimes a handmade insert or cover crafted from magazine cut out collage, could seal new friendships, heal broken ones and keep us company through the many tough times of adolescence and early adulthood. 

The idea of being able to stream and buy digital copies of our favourite songs and tracks was something we could not even dream of yet. To have such a vast quantity of music available 24/7 would have been unbelievable to our younger selves. Yet here we are - unlimited streaming, vast catalogues and endless playback. 

Playlisting itself has developed into an art form of its own and despite lacking the tactility, smell or physical presence of analogue cassette tapes, digital playlists can carry a similar potency. The initial magic ingredients of taking time and thought to carefully curate a list, perfect for a certain time, a certain moment, a certain someone, remains. 

My first attempt was a little roughshod mix for a friend going through some momentous life changes. It runs over 5 hours long and includes such disparities as Pete Tong, Robert Plant, Alex The Astronaut, Billie Holiday, St. Vincent, Fleetwood Mac, Geri Halliwell, Elbow and many many more but each track is carefully selected and ordered (although back then, I naively imagined that the ultimate track order would be whatever I chose by clicking on ‘date added’, ‘album’ or ‘song title’ (ascending or descending) rather than the original order of tracks as they were added) to give an overall effect of playful curiosity and burgeoning confidence wrapped up in a soothing hug. I hope that comes across!! 

As you can see by the notes I added to the playlist description (or imaginary cassette insert if you like) there is magic in the giving of as well as the reception of a well thought out mixtape: 

This ‘mix-tape’ was put together as a musical hug for a friend. I've listened to it almost daily these past few months which have been a super challenging time for me. It has been a life buoy, comfort blanket, spirit lifter, solace, distraction + inspiration. I hope you feel moved by the music too x 

My first Spotify Mix-Tapes were considerably longer than they are now, reflecting my excitement at the seemingly endless possibilities of curating a soundtrack gift to share. They contained anywhere between 37 and 78 tracks - up to 5 ½ hours of play! Now they are limited to 27 items but are still derived from an addiction to the curating of music to share. 

In the beginning stages of writing practice back then, it seemed natural to bring that craft to the playlist too. Feeling the need for a challenge to shake up my early writing style, I gave myself the challenge of writing a piece of poetry or prose using all the track titles listed to construct a conversation, a letter, memory fragments or some other form of communication - a message in a bottle if you like. Thus the Mix-Tape Poems were born. 

Mix-Tape 1 - I Believe In Music - Jun2018 

November 2021 I began creating my fortieth Mix-Tape called I Knew You, titled after the first soul baring track by Future Islands. I'm not sure why this mix needed a full hibernation period before sprouting its wings out into the world, but this slowly emerging spring feels like the right time to unearth its gems and let it grow. Personally, I am falling in love with it, and the magic of the mixtape process, all over again. I hope you do too.. x

Mix-Tape 40 - I Knew You - Winter2021/22

Description Poem:

Always running down / this dead end street is hard / There's music in the darkness / grooves pounded into heart / sways with our emotions / Hush. Yonder door is open / bright lights beam our way / disco balls glitter, say / we've arrived.. x

Fragments:

Our last sundown fell aeons ago, way beyond our horizons yet

Was it so long-ago that you knew me babe and I knew you?

 

We were love’s refuges rolling a dark train of disappointment

Pushed underground through a tunnel snaking dark and long

 

Myriad memories meander over this aging mindscape-

That last year as surprising as the seasons confused

 

Like time runaway we were far from our true selves..

Unnaturally warm spring and it was cold in summer

 

A lonely girl in the rain and my love, I kissed someone (it wasn’t you)

Though I was thinking of you I swear, your face was all I saw..

 

They say, you’re on your way and I wonder after all this time

Will you remember me? Will you recognise these darkened eyes..

 

You came back then and I can’t believe we had another chance

Yet there on Redondo beach we claimed our own secret Paradise

 

The clouds lifted and we danced, you in your faded blue jeans

My white dress torn like my heart, a tattered shell, unshored

 

But you held my hand, said ‘I know places’ and you know how it is

When you love too much, I swear my heart was a firework - constant

 

Explosions - all senses flowing like a river to the open sea

We were in heaven, and I swear, it was just like old times..

 

At Groovata the sun swelled over the midnight ocean

In your arms I felt serene, full of grace by your side

 

I only feel cool when I’m with you and something wonderful-

Something unparalleled fell into our laps, babe, magic, I swear.

 

Our eyes fixed, you breathed ‘My Millennium Angel’, and I belonged

From that moment on, I swear I was yours. Even now, all it takes-

 

A touch of southern breeze can bring me back to you, those nights..

You remember how the edges bled and we lived in soft filter babe

 

Polaroid kisses, even the whale song called out to our wildness

The sound fills me with heartbreak now, time and time again

 

Sunset’s arms still stretch wide though there’s only me now

But you’re coming back, and I swear babe, if this ain’t love

 

I don’t know what is. This summer will be my last here so

Whatever the weather, find me babe, come give me love.. xx

Review: Two Birds Tweeting

The Owl and the Nightingale by Simon Armitage
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this poem - Poet Laureate Simon Armitage's translation of one of the earliest recorded stories told in Middle English. The exquisitely rhyming verse (which I imagine must have been painful to update for modern readers whilst keeping the rhyme and staying faithful to the original text) follows an overheard conversation between the title characters.

As the birds argue about whose life and manner of living is more worthwhile and virtuous, the back and forth get very real, as heated as a Twitter debate and decidedly misogynistic in parts which for me sat a tad awkwardly with the fact that the birds are purportedly female.

Amongst other crimes, Owl blames Nightingale of encouraging licentious behaviour and extra-marital affairs with her saccharine song and all-consuming monologues. Nightingale in turn accuses Owl's screeching woeful dirges of striking fear into those unfortunate enough to hear. Peculiarly (or perhaps not giving the verses' human author) it seems important to them both to please and be of good service to God, the law, reigning King and humanity in general.

I read it over a few evenings, skipping over the more 'saucy' sections when my daughter was still awake! It benefits, like most poetry, from being read out loud, with specific voices for each bird if you please.

The illustrations by Clive Hicks-Jenkins are colourful and stunning and add to the Middle Ages atmosphere. Overall the verse is very laugh out loud funny, sometimes shocking, outrageously chauvinistic and objectifying of women and their role in society (which no doubt mirrors the sad times in which it was written) and ends with great humour which our original author and current translator must have revelled in writing.

View all my reviews

Scarlet and Teal

My first story on @Vocal_Creators has been published, yay! 

Scarlet and Teal is about a girl whose red as thunder heart dissolved into a sea of blue. Will she make it back to shore? x

god is a shout

My latest poetry reading on Soundcloud is called 'god is a shout'. I was inspired to write it by one of the great #IthacaPrompts offered back in Mar2021 by @Writing.By.SA on Instagram. The poetry community on Insta are a super inspiring + talented bunch. Do check them out if you haven't already.

This piece is a visceral documentation of a day in the life of a creative parent, body bound to the home by low mobility, mind escaping to the stars via the alchemy of ink + paper. Hope you enjoy the words below + the reading here x

I woke in dreamtime

Another poetry recording, this time of a micropoem written in 2019. To create the out-of-this-world, dreamy experience the poem needed, I channeled a mix of Luna Lovegood + Professor Trelawney (both Harry Potter Characters - The Pixie + I have recently finished reading the first 3 books together and she watches the first 3 films on repeat whenever she can. I've just binge watched the remaining 5 films in my generous parental duty to check if films 4-8 are suitable for a seven year old to watch - they are most definitely not suitable but are very good for a 48 year old!).

'I woke in dreamtime' can be found here.

Easter Monday Audio

Here's another recording just posted on Soundcloud of my poem Easter Monday. This one called for a quiet background, unlike the others I've recorded with my own music (perhaps 'audible experience' would be a better description) tucked underneath the words. Would love to know what you think of any of these offerings - words, images, sounds - so do send me a tweet @racheblue with any feedback you may have. Thanks x

Spoken Word Poems

Hello there,

I've not been here much lately due to general busyness. As well as practicing my songwriting and getting to grips with basic recording (a tricky business particularly when I don't really play a musical instrument, just tinkle about with a few learnt way back in school-days), I've been transforming my written work into visual and audible content to complement the words and give them a fresh lease of life. It's all a bit hotch-potch at times as I'm mostly building my wings on the way down (I knew there was something I should have done before jumping off, damn it!). Ah well, c'est la vie. I hope you enjoy them as much as I've had fun recording them.

Susie is the second of my poetry readings aka spoken word tracks posted on Soundcloud. Enjoy x

Spring

A small poem on not wanting to engage in the expansive nature of spring, wishing to remain in hibernation rather than face the onslaught of feelings and emotions that spring ushers forth..

If you prefer to listen, check out my reading on Soundcloud here.

For more words, pictures and sounds follow me on Twitter and Instagram. 

More readings to follow on Soundcloud soon.. x 

Some recent poems..

Edge Of Evening

I find myself kneeling

at the edge of evening

watching the light sink deeper

into night time’s heavy weight parchment.

A blot of sun’s fading

song remains here and there

pushing through unexpectedly

at decreasing intervals until eventually

they are all subsumed

by indigo’s depth and only

a smattering trail of silver stars

remain upon the sky. I dip my brush carefully

into the gold and red,

paint Jupiter and Saturn

colliding underneath a sliver

of old moon. She is chasing the sun

but will never catch him.

If you listen carefully

you can hear her plaintive call -

the voice of the perpetually heartbroken.

#vsspoem

Image by Wild0ne at Pixabay 

Snow

It doesn’t snow here very often
but when it does it’s bitterly cold
the kind of cold that blows up your jumper
and won’t leave no matter how many layers you pile on,
the kind of cold that whistles deep into your ear drums
and lays a fearsome frost on all your extremities.
 
A cold that constantly whips around your exposed forehead
chattering noisily though you can never make out
a cognizant sound never mind a word. So much chatter
but nothing to go on, nothing to ease the chilling pains.
A distant cold that will never explain itself clearly
but will insist on mustering on dolefully
 
muttering between incoherent grumps and groans
making you feel as though you were to blame
for all this damn coldness freezing your fingertips
scorching your tongue on the too hot hot chocolate he gave you.
The kind of cold that watches your tears roll
and has nothing to say to them..

The kind of cold that leaves without due courtesy
leaving you wondering if you truly exist
or are just a fragment of the cold’s imagination,
or your own - and who are you anyway, with or without the cold?
It starts of as just a few falling flecks
that you could easily dismiss as rain -
 
unpleasant but to be expected, then, before you know it
the ground is covered in slippery gloom and white fear settles
on the roof of your heart, your mind’s pavements
turn invisible underneath the grey slush,
and in the sorry light of a streetlamp
a torrent of frosty flakes tumbles senselessly
 
around the corners of this wretched afternoon.
You turn indoors, turn away, tear your mind from ice
to less overwhelming matter, wipe away
remaining tears, find a tissue to mop up the snuffles,
blow out the whole day, inhale a breath of silence
and feel grateful that it doesn’t snow here very often.

Twilight Robbery

I feel wine’s mellow madness on my tongue

already too soon on my tongue as I swallow the passing day

stale cheese biscuit crumbs attempt to cover the floor

sustenance dried out, cracked down to the core

I feel the moonlight soft on my face already

too soon on my face as I measure the fading day

spoonfuls of lost time spill from clumsy lips

a lifetime of regret sits heavy on the hips

I took the medicine and drank the green juice

attempted to follow the guidance of shams

I sit in the last light and count all my thumbs

pick out the cherries from amongst today’s crumbs

I took tea with a druid, his cookies were fresh

I lay in the red tent, held by spirit, flew free

entranced in the moment, did not hear time’s call

at the end of the day I’d give a fig for some more

Blue is receding, kidnapped by Evening

she doesn’t want to leave but is too tired to fight

and here comes Night with her wine and deep sighs

I’ll gather them up, look her straight in the eyes

say I know you are bound by the moon and the sun

but can’t you be late, hold off, just for once?

she laughs in my face, throws open her cloak

coats my sky in a darkness too strong to revoke

so I’ll open the wine, pour a glass of regret

drown all my yearnings for the day to return

let Night have her way for just a few hours

till Morning releases my Blue from her powers

I Do Not Accept Drinks From Disapproving Men (A Hymn)

You got me when I was not looking, charged along the track without a warning

With unintended force you crashed into my calm

Pushed me to the very edge, I know you meant no harm

And I trust your well-meaning, your kindness-filled desire

To oil the machinations of us, to lift us ever higher

To clarify and reinstate our stations, yet I fell at every word you mentioned.

His words hit like a bowling ball - a strike for him, nothing for me at all

Knocked down with a clean fast sweep, tangled mess, feelings in a heap.

Winded, empty, helpless, confused, his meagre message left me bruised

Faux kindness ripped my soul to shreds, insides exposed, aching, raw and red

And no-one wants to see that - who wants to see that?

The entrails of despair and pain, pieces of gut chewed over and again

Till only sad acrid bile remains, semi-liquid, half-baked frame

Unfulfilled body collapses in again, spark kicked out; fuse blown again.

The force of each blow radiates through brittle bone

Teased, torn and tingled, every sinew, muscle, tendon

Tender parts provoked to rage, tissue flutters in wild daze

With saddened shudder veins vibrate, each artery impaled with desperate ache

Sorrowful shivers sent to every atom, naked cells quake suspiciously

This deadly sense of poisoned void trips me, tips me, closer to insanity. 

You disapprove because you feel that I have taken your love for granted

But this is not true, I value you and the trust we both have planted.

He disapproves because, well, I don’t know, but the disapproval itself is clear

Amidst these howling winds it’s bitter taste is all I hear.

Your words made me feel I was a failure; his words make me feel I’m a fool

Either way I am undone and on this unworthy cold spring night

I know that loneliness has won.

All signs of renewal have been suppressed like the hyacinth, forget-me-nots and starflower

She picked from the garden to comfort me with stems cut too short for water

Slow sacrifice to the drowning maid, instead, with attentive care we laid

White here, yellow, blue and purple there, petals pressed firm on to the page

Faces peer up as pages come down - crushed the life out of their colourful ways

Pushed and pressed to preserve past beauty, to keep them safe, these sorry souvenirs

Of what once was. Forget me not, but I know you will. And he will too I fear

(and would it have been worth it after all?)

Beneath love’s dark waves I am slipping, slipping, falling, drowning gasp of ocean air

Fills tired lungs, ache from crying, soothed by grave waters, suffocating

With death’s silent scream narrating.

All this love and no hope of salvation; all this love and no air to breathe

Not in these slow murky whirling depths, slowly strangled by malicious weeds.

All this love and no arms to cling to; all this love and no lips to kiss

No fingers to caress each moment, soothe with undulating bliss.

No heart to accept love and reciprocate feelings, to embrace and hold and welcome it home

Drowning with all these other lovers in all this love, yet I am here, alone.

We’re all alone with our unique obsessions, each lonely soul in its private passion

All this love and not a drop to drink; all this love our poor hearts to sink.

I want to scream ‘fuck off!’ at you, to push you away, away, away

Because the distance I already feel is more than I can bear today.

I want you gone because I need you here and I cannot have it my way

To have you here, it is forbidden, and what would our neighbours say?

I need to delete your omnipresence, unsubscribe from your daily views

Unfollow your voice on my video feed, block every last trace of you

Because you can do nothing for me now.. (it’s just me and the pain, again)..

His voice shakes. Is he laughing or crying? I can no longer tell, perhaps I never could

Perhaps all I knew were guesses at best - mere approximations of hopefulness

My heart harboured for him, from him, to you, to him, of you, of him

For you, from you and him, and you..

Can I only live this life if I erase him? How can I possibly live without you?

There is air on the surface, that much I know.

But for now, on this loneliest of nights

I will sink to the bottom and forget how to breathe.

Dark Moon Rising

Dark Moon Rising - Part I

The time has come
The end is nigh
Come sweet magic
Fly away, fly..

All the eggs are leaving their basket
Carry me away in a wicker casket
Float me gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, this is no dream

The death of fertility comes with a sigh
No more twinkles in their fathers' eyes
And I who once was so forgiving
Bid adieu to the Queendom of Living

My grandmother's eggs and her mothers' too
Carried my patterns in prints of deep blue
She was no sucker, would take no nonsense
And yet, and yet .. the stories she told us...

In the womb the children come and go
We searched for them high and sought them low
Knew all the while that the schedule was restricted
Only those in the know, knew how to read it.
We looked to the stars and prayed for a reason
Cried for the moon, her bindings to loosen.
We hoped for a miracle, paid cash for a glimmer
Should we turn up the heat or just let it simmer?

In the womb the children come and go
We seek them high, we feel so low
My children's voices, our children's songs
Reverberate and echo through constellations.
Fiery lights that once burned bright
Can no longer hope to draw the night
And yet, I still hear their distant voice
Our cosmic ties leave me with no choice.

Now Luna turns her face from me
And I'm falling, dragged down to my knees
Pleading for another chance, just one
Before this bloody moon is gone.
An ache ripples dread around my heart
Pulls at the strings, rips soul apart
Is there any way I can have just a little more time?
Can the dream of three ever truly be mine?

My body pushes away from the spine
Pulls at the tendons and bindings divine
Tears flesh as tears fall in silent refrain
How will I ever feel whole again?
Red heat abounds, makes a deafening roar
Knows that the future can be no more
What we imagined and hoped it to be
Three and four magpies have flown from the tree.