THE WORD


Lifted Higher

by the open microphone

It is the song and the poem. It is the tune and the word. It is the heart of the human that is lifted higher and higher; lifted by the singer and poet, by the artist and dancer, by the worker of wood, the carver of stone, by the musician who plays and the quiet one who prays. Such is the joy and magic of the open microphone.

From there we are lifted and our souls learn to dance. Our confidence is nurtured. Our understanding is enlightened. We learn of the spirit by which others survive. We join hands in laughter and hold each other tight. We learn to see differently, to hold to truth and shun the lie.  And in the flame of the fire standing against the wall, our shadows stand tall. We learn we are one community together and two apart. Healing like a river. Sojourn in a tent. Turn on the microphone. We ain’t finished yet..

And just like that we are into August and the frost lies on the ground, sparkles in the morning sun as winter prepares for the last run home. No better place of a winters evening than a cosy community gathering behind a microphone,  beside the flames of a fire.

Coming up this month open microphones at MAD Café, (Moonshine on the Microphone)The Mussel Inn (Acid on the Microphone) and, at the end of the month, The Dangerous Kitchen reopens (The Dangerous Microphone). And don’t forget the Monday Sing Along with Craig Denham at The Mussel Inn as well as The Mapua Literary Festival happening in September.

Love to see you at one of these events if you can make it.
Peace
Mark
Golden Bay Live Poets Society



The Piano Man

PIANO MAN

for Craig Denham

He is the piano man
playing for the Monday night
bit-piece choir,
he knows every tune
they conspire to sing,
he’s got all the lyrics,
plays all the songs
of their heart-felt desire.

He is the piano man
playing for the Monday night
bit-piece choir,
he plays all the notes
both low and sometimes higher,
he is the pied piper
leading all the voices
along a tight rope wire.

He is the piano man
playing for the Monday night
bit-piece choir,
he dances the keys
of the kingdom,
his fingers are on fire,
his hands, he said,
they were for hire.

He is the piano man
playing for the Monday night
bit-piece choir,
he never fails to show up,
no engagements prior,
come on, he grins,
let’s sing our hearts out,
this is not the time to retire!

Mark Raffills