Once known as Baby Bubbles

Once known as Baby Bubbles, the sibilance of her childhood lisp had precluded a successful career in her family's jazz singing tradition. Dejected, she'd turned to busking instead. Singer & Songwriter Michal Elia Kamal (image source) This piece of flash fiction was written in response to: The Sunday Muse #222;Fandango’s One-Word Challenge: 'tradition';Ragtag Daily Prompt Saturday: 'bubbles';Sammi… Continue reading Once known as Baby Bubbles

God, or: Hell’s denizens

Poetry Partners #87 'Speaking to God', a poem by George Ellington of 'Gaelic Dreams' speak to God, he said to me speakingly sing in prayerful praise: thus honest and whole wholesomely sounding cords that only a reverent voice can calm yet loving attain but this, i said, is my voice voyaging beyond this self— how… Continue reading God, or: Hell’s denizens

The Waltz Wave, or: Form verses creativity

Sangeetha & David's new poetry project Once upon a time, two poets who'd never met in person spontaneously began writing verses back and forth to one another over the Internet. Their first poetry project took them some nine months: a 100 verse Hyakuin. Once they'd completed their oeuvre, the two decided to continue their creative… Continue reading The Waltz Wave, or: Form verses creativity

Blues, or: Soul

Poetry Partners #77 'With tears from dear', a poem by Henry Mworia of 'Veteran Writes' Emotions say you are a stranger. Alone I must be they tell me. Being apart will stop my heart. Drizzling notions of doubt or despair Rain at a pace similar to no other. I’m unable to see you split in… Continue reading Blues, or: Soul

Soaring out into the sky

Her father was a world-renowned yodeler from Switzerland; and her mother played electric guitar in a heavy metal band; but the child was born mute and would cringe at even the slightest noise. Considered a freak and largely ignored, she kept to her bedroom, magically bringing shadow-birds to life and sending them soaring out into… Continue reading Soaring out into the sky

The piano ain’t got no wrong notes

Those who want to know what sound goes into my music should come to NY and open their ears.-Thelonius Monk (1917 – 1982) Son, I couldn't give you the recipe even if I wanted to. I compose my pieces with a formula that I created myself. The only cats worth anything are the cats that take… Continue reading The piano ain’t got no wrong notes

You’re not my sunshine, or: You’re just a raincloud

The other night, jerk, as I stood thinking, I knew you could not be my better half; And as I fell asleep, I felt sure I was right; I dreamed of freedom from you as I laughed You’re just a raincloud, one ugly raincloud; Your snivels upset when skies are blue; You'll always feel, jerk,… Continue reading You’re not my sunshine, or: You’re just a raincloud