Dad was a diplomat, or so I was told. Honestly I was too young to understand or care. He might have been MI5 for all I knew. The only thing I understood was that he was gone a good bit, and that when he was home we were an inseparable lot; me, my mum and him.
My parents loved me a great deal and I always felt loved even when I thought that I was different from other boys. But they loved each other even more and I could see it each time their eyes met. Maybe that was why their death hurt me so much, because their love for each other was the spark in my small world that told me how much I was loved.
When my dad left in the mornings my mum’s last touch was just a light whisper of her fingertips, as if enticing him to hurry through the day and come back home again. And when he did return there was always a small cuddle in the foyer, or the kitchen, or wherever he caught Mum unawares. I use to watch them when he snuck in and winked at me, a conspirator’s nod before he ambushed Mum with his simple affections. It always made me smile. [Read more…] about Stephen Dobbins – Guest Post
The hook in music is the riff that captures the listener and pulls them into the song, the beat and the experience of the music. It’s what gets you humming the tune days later and what brings listeners back to the artist and the memories they experienced when that particular song was playing. It’s one of the things I love about music.
As many of my reader’s already know, I’m a great fan of poetry. I even dabble in a bit of it myself, though I will be the first to say that my own poetry sucks. I need to stretch my fingers a bit more when I put words on paper, which is why I have such great respect for a wordsmith that can do in ten words what it takes me in ten thousand.
