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Wednesday, August 25, 2021

Marie Bortolotto 2021


 El Agua Y Los Arabes (Water & Arabs) - Eduardo Pagiagua

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Poemas De La Alhambra (Ibn Zamrak) 1333 - 1393 AD
- Eduardo Paniagua, El Arabi Serghini

Flamenco Roots - Munir Bashir

 

READING

My eye frees what the page imprisons:
the white the white and the black the black.

~ Ibn ‘Ammar (died 1086 AD) (Silves)

Monday, August 23, 2021

"All Is Full of Love" - Music by Bjork


URBAN JUNGLE

Wild-mouthed, a dog whines in swelling octaves.

A garbage truck crouches over its prey.

Squabbling children, a sullen breeze hovers,

then swoops. Round and round, 

a red and white bicycle wheel whirls.

All is full of love.

~ Marie Bortolotto © 2021

Sunday, August 22, 2021


Marie Bortolotto Artist 2021

 

 

 
 Magic Songs - R. Murray Schafer, Canadian Composer
1933 - 2021


Seventeen Haiku - R. Murray Schafer, Canadian Composer
1933 - 2021

Wednesday, August 18, 2021


 ...let this music move your soul - Yaron Pe'er

...intoxicating Afghani Rubab music...

 
  Marie Bortolotto 2021

 
 

 Classical Ghazal Music...poetry of the heart...


...enchanting bhajans, devotional songs...


DREAMING IN THE PARK

Ruffled feathers, a raucous jury of crows deliberate.

A sacrificial cabbage, purples.

A children's storybook takes flight. 

The intoxicating scent of fresh cut grass,

a red tractor swirls upon a green ocean dream.

- Marie Bortolotto ©  2021

Monday, August 16, 2021


LISTEN: A Portal into the deep + eternal longing of the heart...

Soundscapes: Music of the desert by Zakir Hussain

Sunday, August 15, 2021


4 Centuries of Spanish and Sephardic Songs

...sweetened liquid sounds for the poetic heart



Marie Bortolotto 2021

 

 

 Marie Bortolotto 2021

Marie Bortolotto 2021  





 


Marie Bortolotto 2021

 

 

SPRINGTIME

Ah, what flashing and fragrance!

Ah, how the meadows laugh!

Ah, what aubades are heard!

FOLK BALAD


In my morning half-asleep, I am put out of sorts by a devilish squalling of little children. Finally, unable to sleep anymore, I jump out of bed in despair. Then, when I gaze at the countryside from my open window, I realize that the noisemakers were the birds.

I go out to the vegetable garden and I sing my thanks to the God of the blue day. A free concert of beaks, fresh and endless! Capriciously the swallow utters her ripply twittering in the well; the black bird whistles on the fallen orange, the fiery oriole chatters from one ilex to another; the greenfinch gives its long, frequent laughs at the top of the eucalyptus; and on the big pine the sparrows argue furiously.

What a morning! The sun poses its silver-and-gold cheerfulness on the earth; butterflies of a hundred colors play everywhere, among the flowers, through the house (now inside, now out), on the fountain. All over, the countryside opens up into crackings and creakings, into a boiling of healthy new life.

It's as if we were inside a huge honeycomb of light which was also the interior of and immense, flaming-hot rose.

Juan Ramon Jimenez, (from Platero y yo)