Compline

“’Lullaby of Birdland’ whisper low”

(With thanks to Sir George Shearing and George David Weiss)

Why do birds sing at night?

Morning chorales and evening reprises trill avé and valé to the sun;
but now the chorus starts just past dusk in the dimness of first dark.

There must be a reason they sing contentedly after fall of night.

They do not greet the moon as she has not yet risen
or the stars as they flicker faintly from aeons lost.

Is it a lullaby they chirp before putting their tiny heads beneath their wings, mayhap they chant their evening prayers,
or do they cheerfully rehearse their sunrise song?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 25 April 2016

A Solitary Woman

(with thanks to Neil Diamond)

Always alone, though rarely ever lonely;
Never giving in, while always giving out.

My strength is formed ‘round a core of staunch denial;
determined to provide where I am needed,
resolutely finish what I start.

The path is often one-way only, with a roadblock at its end

but the goal shifts ever further;
green fields and a nap always ‘round the second next bend.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
17 May 2016

“Through the Mirror of my Mind”

(with thanks to Holland, Dozier, Holland)

I long to be somewhere else, someone else,
I need someone to talk to who’ll listen in silence;
to hold me close, hold me upright,
support me ‘fore I fall.

Sometimes I feel so terribly alone;
thoughts and dreams ricocheting ‘round my mind.

I am an echo of myself, a ghost-walker.

I only exist in the mirror… writing.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©22 April 2016

I am Me

"I am he as you are he as you are me as we are all together" 

(with thanks to Lennon and McCartney)

Introspective, empathetic,
strong of opinion, teeming with doubt,
sensitive, determined,
passionate, apprehensive,
cerebral, intuitive,
deeply compassionate
philosophical, eclectic;
I am me… who are you?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 18 March 2016

When the Rain Comes…

(With thanks to John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and Sir George Martin)

Rain in spring is different from rain in fall or rain in summer; 
it heralds life as it percolates to roots; 
freshening the air, and washing the upturned faces of new growth.

In autumn rain glues fallen leaves to pavement, 
drives life indoors as we hope for just another warm and sunny day; 
as we shiver on the edge of sleet.

Summer rain washes out festivals and games; 
it soaks the sands as much as the surf, 
bending plants, and saturating the air with oppressive discomfort.

Rain in winter melts snowdrifts, cleans out frozen gutters, 
and changes the clouds to a different colour grey; 
a blessing or a curse depending on how one views a midwinter snow.

Rain is a bath for the world, mother’s milk to the earth; 
puddles to splash, a reason to join forces 'neath a  'brolly, 
no need to ‘run and hide your head’ unless it’s pouring sideways into your eyes.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 9 March 2016

Leap Year

“Now I’m Wondering Where the Day Went” (with thanks to Sunni Pompeii)

Age changes our perceptions, our perspective;
it reveals a different view in the reflection of truth.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…
is the fairness to which we now aspire that of physicality or justice?

Do we still strive for beauty of face and form
or is our desire for beauty of heart, and excellence of character?

Are the pleasures of flesh defined by sexuality and luxury
or rather good food, comfortable surroundings, and a lack of physical discomfort and tenderness?

Does time bring neediness or expansiveness, softness or brittleness, bitterness or appreciation?

Which is more important: being adored or being loved, getting or giving joy, being right, or being true?

Is the echo of our childish desires mimicked in our grown-up yearnings
or have we outgrown the looking glass of our youth?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 29 February 2016

“The World through a Tear”

"Now here am I, no one standing near; it's a lonely world, such a lonely world."

(with thanks to Neil Sedaka)

I can no longer read or listen to news, opinions, or commentaries without wanting to bury my head;
the blatant malice, viciousness, cruelty, and its underlying hatred and ignorance is suffocating.

No longer does my Voice speak out, it reverberates within my head screaming for release;
but I cannot speak my mind with any peace of mind.

I am so accustomed to petulance and brutishness that any clarity of thought or kindness leaves me in tears.

Any minor innocuous comment made is attacked with vulgarity, scorn, or unwarranted vitriol;
friend, foe, or total stranger attack without thought or compunction.

No longer is there concern as to truth, reality, or forethought, only the venting of spleen, defensible or not.

People believe the worst of everyone, they accept every conspiracy theory available without research
or concern as to whom they damage by the repetition of lies.

Strangers feel free to attack inoffensive personal opinions regarding art, music, literature or even food.

No longer can one feel safe to state a bland observation on the weather, or a pet’s name without being called vile names, or threatened with bodily harm.

We have truly lost our way when friends and family can no longer discuss anything without ranting hatred, and complete breaking of personal ties.

The Dark has won the current battle for our collective souls and convinced those espousing the Light that greys are more evil than complete and utter malevolence.

I can no longer bear to watch our determined, self-imposed, collective doom,
so I anticipate going forward alone for my sanity’s sake.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 22 February 2016