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May 19, 2009

Tuesday

Your life has a soundtrack...

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I sit staring over endless blue. Waves tickle my feet as the sun freckles delicate skin. Moods shift like sand as my ipod shuffles through memories. Images shimmer across the horizon like a mirage teasing senses, awakening dreams. “What ifs” peak then cap over lunging into the sand stealing it away. Broken shells, ripped seaweed and dead creatures prove fate’s authority. Hope drifts gracefully to the shore, battered yet perfected from its churning journey. Notes fade as I rub the wood between my inquisitive hands realising I too have the power to polish imperfection, creating the beauty I long for.

Posted by: marie at May 19, 2009 8:04 AM · Permalink

A soundtrack called Life.

I stood staring at the light inawe at what I saw.
A towering fellow was standing there for sure.
The voice held warmth and sincerity within
His body ever so tall and face ever so thin.
He said my life was worthy I’d done everything so well.
I pricked my ears to listen and take in all foretell.
He recaptured all my life as it flickered before my eyes.
He said my life had a soundtrack he’d gladly show the wise.

Posted by: Lilly at May 19, 2009 9:45 AM · Permalink

If I set my life to music, I think it would sound like like Nat King Cole crooning "When I Fall in Love" or maybe old Bill Withers asking his sweetie to "Lean on Me."

Those guys sang about real love, the kind where everybody lives happily ever after -- the whole richer or poorer in sickness and health 'till death do us part kind of love.

At twenty-two I thought I'd found it. She was everything I ever wanted. I felt disconnected when she wasn't around.

She left before I hit twenty-three.

Her life's theme was "Born to be Wild."

Posted by: Owl Creek Observer at May 19, 2009 11:41 AM · Permalink

"like like?"

Let's drop one of the likes and add the word softly between Cole and crooning.

Sorry about that.

Posted by: Owl Creek Observer at May 19, 2009 12:06 PM · Permalink

Title: Regina Spektor

She's quiet. Except for when she sings. By herself at lunch. Angry words, come softly from her lips to a tune so beautiful it was sad.

"You know why THEY're singing it?" So she doesn't have to. But she does. I like to hear her, but I say nothing.

***

I wake up and something is crashing, slamming in my ears. It sounds like a piano, but it can't be a piano. No one acts bothered by it. I see her and she sings. Louder and harsher than ever before. She looks at me and sneers,

"Poor little rich boy..."

Posted by: Anelisa at May 19, 2009 6:12 PM · Permalink

My friends say I am too gullible for my own good. I prefer to think I have an open mind. I look at the number plate on the wall. This is the place. Before I can knock, a lady with a faraway look in her eyes opens the door and beckons me inside. ‘You know why I am here?’ I ask, she nods and glances towards her crystal ball. There is music playing ‘I know that song, my dad always used to hum it’. ‘Yes, everyone’s life has a soundtrack…’ she holds out her hand and waggles her fingers expectantly.

Posted by: Soraya at May 19, 2009 7:55 PM · Permalink