2532. The power of flowers

Jacob seemed a nice enough sort of guy. Caroline’s parents seemed happy that she was going out with him, and for a while Caroline was very happy too. Then things began to turn sour.

At first it was just little things, but the little things grew aplenty and now there were little and big things. Caroline started to resent Jacob. She thought she actually might hate him. She didn’t even like being in the same room as him.

Caroline’s parents were very open about it, although they did say to Caroline that he was ä very nice boy and “you couldn’t really find better than that.” However, Caroline called the whole thing off.

“It’s over,” she said to Jacob. “Finished. Caput.”

Jacob was devastated. He sent Caroline a big bunch of flowers from the florist. It must have cost a packet. They melted Caroline’s heart. The scent was beautiful. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad fellow after all. Caroline thought she should maybe give him another go.

Caroline sniffed the flowers. The bunch exploded.

2443. Cold comfort

Ever since her teenage son had come home from school, raided the fridge, and had a fry-up, Stacey had labelled everything in the refrigerator. She wasn’t going to be stuck at home for a weekend again with no cat food. Ryan had cooked it and declared later that it was quite delicious. Stacey had threatened to throw him a bone intended for the dog if he ever did it again. That explains why everything in her fridge was named and dated.

Stacey had been a solo Mum all these years. Husband Robert had gone for a bike ride, hit a car, and never came home.

Ryan in his teenage years enjoyed relabelling everything in the refrigerator. Butter was cat food; cheese was dog food; leftover couscous was canary food. Even tapioca pudding was frog’s eggs, and a raisin dessert was fly-cemetery.

Then Stacey met Nick. He didn’t have a sense of humour. It is amazing how one person can change everything.

2229. A real man writes poetry

Only a real man writes poetry. At least that’s what Aunt Winifred told Nephew Hayes. Lesser men grovel around in prose, but a real man writes a poem.

Hayes had been dating Mabel for over a year now. He wasn’t an overly clever chap but he thought he might string together a line or two of poetry. Anything to impress Mabel. Anything to make her go weak at the knees.

Mabel’s such a pretty name
It makes the birdies sing,
But I can’t make it rhyme with anything.

Hayes screwed it up and dropped it on the floor.

You are my sunshine on a rainy day
You are a restful park bench on my way
You love me especially when I pay.

Again Hayes screwed it up and dropped it on the floor. There was getting to be quite a pile of paper there now. It was also getting to be late afternoon, and Hayes was getting depressed. He began to think he’d be better happily grovelling around in prose for the rest of his life.

A violet by any other name would smell as sweet
And you smell.

Hayes screwed it up and threw it on the floor. And then the doorbell rang. Hayes answered the door. There was an envelope. It was a message from Mabel:

It’s over.

2174. Death by drowning

The coroner said it was death by drowning. Things hadn’t been going too well for Janelle and Melville. They had been living together for fourteen years in a rather nice villa in the south of France. It had a swimming pool for summer and a sauna for the cold. Around about the eleventh year of their relationship they began to argue big time. They had often argued, but not at the level the eleventh year ushered in.

Janelle wanted to heat the pool. “How lovely to take a dip in the winter.” They could well afford it. But Melville thought it nice to do seasonal things in a seasonal time. “Why swim in the winter?”

The argument had intensified over three years. It was now winter, and Janelle was harping, harping, harping.

“Ok,” said Melville, “if it’s a winter swim you want it’s a winter swim you’ll get.”

2064. If tomorrow…

– If this year was a leap year then tomorrow would be a leap day.

– But it’s not a leap year so tomorrow’s not a leap day.

– I never said it was. I just said if this year was a leap year then tomorrow would be a leap day.

– I heard you the first time. And it’s not a leap day tomorrow.

– I read where women can propose marriage on a leap day.

– I don’t know if that’s true.

– I just said it was. Don’t you believe me?

– I simply said I didn’t know if it was true or not.

–  It’s always the same. You don’t believe a single thing I say. You don’t believe anything unless you read it yourself. You’ll believe anyone blabbing on in social media before you believe anything I say.

– That’s probably not true.

– Anyway don’t expect me to propose tomorrow because even though women can propose on a leap day I have no intention of doing that.

– Tomorrow’s not a leap day. It’s not a leap year. I’m not expecting a proposal.

– Oh God! You’re so unreasonable.

1937. Ayleen bakes a cake for Rodney

Ayleen decided to bake a cake. I mean, what else was there to do on a cold rainy day? Besides, her boyfriend, Rodney, was coming to dinner. There was nothing different or special about that but Ayleen thought that to finish with a delectable dessert might sweeten the reality that she was going to announce: as far as Ayleen was concerned the relationship was over.

Ayleen had good reason for it. They had never fallen in love; it was a relationship of convenience. It was “someone to take out”, especially if a group of friends went out partying. But now, Ayleen thought that having a relationship of convenience was a hindrance to finding the right person. Who is going to invite her out if she is already attached? This business with Rodney has to end to make room for whoever was around the corner.

The cake baking went satisfactorily. It was a blueberry yogurt cake. She’d used the recipe quite often. It looked nice enough. A slice of the cake with a dollop of ice cream would be an adequate introduction to her announcement.

Rodney was the fourth guy she’d baked a blueberry yogurt cake for in the last six weeks. When on earth would the right guy come along?

Music 223: Piano Sonata 2

Hi Everyone

I have such a backlog of piano compositions to share with anyone who might want to listen, that I hope I’m not testing your patience. However, I want to get the music “out there”. I’ve already passed the age at which all 4 grandparents shuffled off, and am almost at my father’s age… So I want to make sure all the piano music was available so that it could disappear into obscurity on its own merits!

This Second Piano Sonata is a bit darker than the first and is a bit longer. It doesn’t tell a story as such, nor is it autobiographical. For those of you who want to listen but need some sort of image to help with this type of music, it maybe helpful to think of an abusive or disintegrating relationship, which by the 3rd movement starts to crawl out of the tunnel. With this in mind it doesn’t make for an overly pleasant listening experience, but it is a sonata and not music to be played in the supermarket to enhance the shopping experience!

Thanks

Click on a link to listen
1st movement – audio
2nd movement – audio
3rd movement – audio

Click on a link to download the written music
1st movement – sheet music
2nd movement – sheet music
3rd movement – sheet music

Poem 64: The meaning of flowers

 

The path from my front door
is lined with maybe more than flowers;
each bloom bud stands somehow
for love, or joyful vows, or truth…
Since ancient times virtues
lived nestled in a blue or red,
pink or white, petal bed:
love felt but never said, for fear;
the grace of rue; the cheer
of daisies; phlox that cares, adores!

And yet my pathway walk
is lined with silent thoughts, harsher
than thistles of a marsh;
despair that wilts and lasts; bereft
of hope, since when you left;
footsteps fading, heart cleft, too late
to lock the garden gate,
too late to hide the hate that seethes
along the path, in trees,
in flowers, in seeds, from my front door.

All day I think my ears will catch
the lifting of the latch.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

(The form of this month’s poems is based on the Vietnamese luc bat).

1233. Distance romance

Paul had a number of relationships that didn’t go anywhere. There was Aimee. She was pleasant enough, but was into her horse which wasn’t an animal that Paul could get enthusiastic about. There was Bethany. She was enthusiastic about her family tree, and in the end Paul knew that if he heard any more about her third cousin twice removed he’d go bonkers.

Someone suggested that Paul try a dating service online. They use computers to find suitable pairs. You simply register your details and next thing you’ll be chatting with someone who fits whatever. So Paul did that, and that is how he met Dawn.

Dawn was the one! They clicked together and all the days of the week melded into one. Every night they’d be chatting away online about this and that, and that and this, and everything in between. It was without doubt a match planned since the inception of the universe.

Dawn had a baby, about seven months old, and Paul said such things didn’t matter. He would treat the child as his own. Everything was going to be wonderful. They had never met in the real but it was on the cards. They hadn’t even swapped phone numbers. Who needs to when you chat online?

And then Paul’s computer broke down and he lost all internet connections. So that was the end of that.

1232. A modern day Dear John letter

Quite frankly I’m shocked. I put your name into a search engine and I’d now like to end our relationship. There are ways and means of doing things, and times and places, and you’d think that a modern person, such as you like to call yourself, could do better than that.

I was disgusted; I think more disgusted than I’ve been in a long time. I asked my father about it, and he said, “Dump her. Dump her as fast as you can say Jack Robinson.” So I’m doing that. I don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore.

You must be the only person in the world left who doesn’t appear on the search engines. My father says if a person’s name don’t appear near the top by the age of seventeen they ain’t gonna do much else in life either. You’re in your late teens and I see you’ve achieved nothing. You could’ve at least have posted a photo or something. If you typed in my name you’d see I appear all over the place, and pretty sexy too I reckon. You’ve got to get up and go in this world today. You’re a nobody. Just remember that; a nobody, and always will be. All the best.