The music of words.

My poor, right dominant brain,

Often finds it hard to find the word.

I know the word I want to say,

I see its picture in my head, 

But sometimes it just will not come to my tongue.

So I swear instead.

Or that is my excuse anyway.

Yet when I hear music I can hear the words in it.

Like magic, new lyrics come to me.

I can write songs like that.

I hear musicality in a phrase.

It awakens the pictures in my head,

And I'm off,

Writing another song.

 Or another poem.

And then came George

Old cars come with cassette players.
Left near a bin at a coastal campsite,
Old cassettes.
Compilations recorded from the radio.
This was all news to me.

This is not one of my tapes I think to myself.
Man, he has got worse taste then I thought.
What a mix.

The day has been long and not gone well.
I feel that slow fill on the road to overwhelm,
Almost at my eyes.
I am tired and still have a long night drive.
Takeaway cappuccino from the cafe perks me at least awake.
I persist through the mediocre songs and sing along.
I turn down, the truly bad.
And then when the urge to just switch off is almost upon me,
I hear the opening instrumental,
And it's George...

"All I have to do is to,
Love you,
All I have to be is to,
Be happy.
All it's got to take is some,
Warmth to make it,
Blow away, blow away, blow away"

A Little Light Music

After dinner,
While my children look mournfully at their cooling vegetables,
I practice a little light music.
Generally piano,
But if I am inspired I move onto ukulele.
Or sometimes guitar.
Playing is really accompaniment.
I play a multitude of instruments badly.
There are phases,
Violin and mandolin,
Have also been known to come down off the wall,
Tuned and played with.
But my best instrument,
The most enjoyable, portable, creative and versatile,
That can fill my heart and soul with every emotion.
Is my voice.