My broom dances to Yoyo Ma
bowing a Bach prelude
Dust and crumb puff and twirl
sensing my happy mood

With kids asleep, the night is mine
the night is mine alone
and I will dance and  I will sing
my broom as microphone

Yoyo Ma will fiddle and bow
he'll fiddle all night long
while I buff the floor,  tidy up  
put things where they belong.

Cello strings will twang and snap, beg
I sit and sip my wine - 
I bless the Lord for this,   my day,  
so simple, so sublime.


For DVerse's Meeting the Bar:  Common Meter



Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped
My hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step”

	~ from Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan

	My heart lies in the wasteland
	shattered into pieces
	just like the promises
	my idols used to make
	I laughed at him who would promise the moon
	then I heard you sing, my heart skipped -
	your dream woke my own
  	I  believed in magic again
	I let fall my crutches, your hands I grip - 
	Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship

	bring me to heights I have never been
	in the land of unicorns 
	we live enchantment
	Happiness we'll   sprinkle like stars
 	make believers of cynical hearts
	I am a  schoolgirl whose giddy  lips
 	burn with first love's kiss
	Slake my thirst
	This bliss  could I  keep?
	My senses have been stripped

	dancing by your strings
	Keep singing your song 
	to hold me in your thrall
	I will hold you in a pedestal 
	Your honor  is my own and 
	May  thunder and lightning rip
	him who pricks our bubble
	Yet sometimes I taste the honey-
	coated bile that from your mouth slips
	My hands can't feel to grip

	the scales around my eyes
	 I would rather keep them there
	to maintain my illusions
	than be hurt by  the truth-
	your grandeur was only my hunger
	feeding on itself.  If my world slipped
 	and revealed you for who you are -  
	a piper leading me to  a cliff - 
	Might I have that gift while I soundly slept: 
	My toes too numb to step.

For Meeting the Bar, DVerse Poets’ Pub asks the patrons to write a piece inspired by Bob Dylan to honor his winning the Nobel Prize for Literature. While I know Mr. Dylan, I am not familiar with his body of works except perhaps for Blowing in the Wind. It was widely played during the years of dictatorship in the Philippines and especially during its waning days in ’86. Blowing in the Wind became a pseudo anthem for the Filipinos aching to be free of the tyranny of the Marcos era. Perhaps my cousins played a lot of Mr. Dylan’s song, but I might not have appreciated his genre which tended towards folk-country.

I was a bit disheartened when I read about the Meeting the Bar prompt but I looked up his music in youtube anyway. I still had trouble with the musical flavor (I am sorry for the fans of the genre. I offer as excuse my growing up as a country bumpkin in the more rural villages of the Philippines) so I searched for the lyrics to his songs. What beautiful poetry opened before my eyes. I am most impressed by Mr. Tambourine Man, not only because of its wistful words, but also because I think that the melody is something I can relate to. After listening to the song several times, and reading the words several times, I am convinced that Mr. Tambourine Man is an even better work than Blowing in the Wind.

DVerse Poets' Pub's Meeting the Bar:  Bob Dylan
Daily Post:  Promises


When I run empty
I fill up with music
the one where the cello sings
and caresses my spirit
with its voice
low and sonorous
gently calling pieces of me 
to life
and lifting me up
like a lover holding me by my hands
moving  me  across the room
by a slow dance
towards the window bathe in light
there I lift my eyes
where the music glides
up towards the skies
there I float
on a bed of clouds
and meld 
with the breath 
of existence

This piece and The Swan by St. Saens, which I was listening to prior to this, inspired this little piece of poem. Listening to cello and violin pieces are a favorite way of mine to relax after a long day. I hope you enjoyed the music. 🙂


bard at the fair2
I admire people who can play music. This man stood in the heat of a September day to entertain the crowd at the faire. People passed him by without giving the least sign of appreciation for his work. Yet, whether we faire guests admitted it or not, his bagpipe contributed to the festive atmosphere at the faire.


If I could stand before the world
coax music out of reeds
not be bothered about the crowd
who cares not for the gift I give
I am brave

If I could handle the scorn
that the world inspires within
calm down the raging storm
let out from my wounds a healing song
I am at peace



This pretty photo is “Musician in the Rain” by Robert Doisneau. It is this week’s prompt in Magpie Tales. Please click the photo to visit the site.

He knew well to bow
to music greater than his
he let his hands go silent
with humility and grace
he yielded his music
to the song of the wind
kept his feet in rhythm
with the tinkling rain

Still his music played
though he alone could hear
the bittersweet tune
of his joys and tears
Yet, beauty is a gift
that could not be contained –
his music will rise
as the sun at dawn
one with the symphony
that the Master had drawn.


I wrote this for Magpie Tales.  I decided to forego movie night with my husband so I could write and finish a decent piece that I can share with DVERSE’s Open Link Night.  At 11:48 p.m. EST, I’m cutting it really really close. 🙂 Ah, do visit these lovely places when you get the time.  Better yet, link up one of your works.

Thank you for coming by.  🙂 I am behind with visits.  I will catch up soon.  Thanks for being so nice to me.




In the corner of a busy street and the public square
she strummed her shamisen
inviting the harried passerby
to live in another time.

Who heeds the call of her three-stringed guitar
everyone is hurrying after his own star
with those few moments in his hand
could he even dare spare a second
to savor a different world
that before his eyes and ears unfolds?

Perhaps he will give her a passing glance
and a prayer for another chance
to tarry and linger just for a little while
a gift as precious as the coins in her pile.

Play on, Euterpe of the Streets
lift up your subjects’ sagging spirits
though the crowd is sparse
and there is little applause
Your silence is sure to leave a space
empty and wishing for your gifts.

This lady was playing her shamisen, the Japanese three-stringed guitar, in the corner of the public square in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Montreal. It was a joy to see her there. I would have loved to take more photos of her and listen some more but I did not even have a penny in my pocket to put in her box.

For more Community, please visit here. 🙂 Happy weekend and thank you ever so much for coming by.


I heard it
the opening notes of Ode to Joy
and I walked, tracing the sound
my feet as though growing wings with each step
the music lifted me up
bit by bit
until I lose sense of my ground
and my soul floats into the heavens
rides the waves of joy
and sorrow
and triumph
the music embraced me
flowed through me
Through its beat
I saw
life’s possibilities
There I stayed
among the stars
until  the applause
and rolling drums
called me back
to where I should be –
in that place of grit,
my reality.



I thought that this version of Ode to Joy is especially charming because of its ‘spontaneity” and because of the element of surprise.  I especially marvel at the crowd’s reaction.  Their  expressions show the faces of those who witness magic.  My only regret with this piece is that it  is shorter than what it should be.  But it is exquisitely beautiful nonetheless.

I hope that this brought you wonder and magic just as it gave me when I first saw this video. 🙂  Happy Monday.