The Mini Troubadoura

SPARROW
Little Sparrow Little Sister Never Lost Always on your way to somewhere
We are Smooth and earth-toned Smooth like earth
Round and flighty Round bodies With wings

They take us where we please We fly. You in the sky I on the highway


From Bearer of the Caul* TheMiniTroubadoura (UJ) 2017

Oh with wide eyes
Wild eyes and shaky hands
Peering over cliffs
Moss muffled footsteps
I write my name in pine needles
And look for insight in DNA sequences
Oh, I look for falling branches
Fanatics and apathetics
Stepping over lukewarm pools
Snares and booby traps
Till the wind and waves make sense
And I forget the danger
Of ancient woods and solitary places

Oh, we the insane! Those with some sense, take their clothes off the fence. They run in the house, to get out of the rain
Oh but not us. We throw open the windows. Run out of doors. We go flying down highways, and running through moors.
God bless those who love us. Oh, for they need it more, than those who love others, who also stay out of storms.

Minitroubadoura 2019

Using Little Free Libraries As A Way To Interact With Other Readers


Use Them To Pack Light And Read Heavy
While on my travels, I found Little Free Libraries to be little miracles. I can leave my house with 4 books, (two to read and two to give) and return home having read 10 and have 4 new books for my collection. I still would of have been able to give 4 books away to others that share a love of reading. I have read cute little messages in them and even found bookmarks left for someone to enjoy. Something I love to do is get free bookmarks from libraries from one state, and leave them in a book in another state, for another person. 

Click here to find a free little library world wide!


Free Little Libraries Can Be A Legacy And A Way To Remember A Loved One I am a part of the facebook group for the LFL. There, people share the new libraries they have registered. Sometimes they also speak of the loved one they created the library for. Families, clubs, and churches use it as a project.

H…

Nights like these When I still wore plats I would have taken to the streets Not for some illicit scavenger hunt Not for the sake, of stirring the pot     
No, just to feel this mist upon my skin,  and this wind whisper in my ear                                             As it is, I find reasons to go outside The trash must go out I must purchase candles and condensed soup My, these doormats need a sweeping Such matronly neglect shall not go unnoticed I must stay out a little longer...... And gulp the air as if I am suffocating For I am suffocating, at times On nights like these When my soul swells as if to burst From the beauty of it all From the sheer ugliness of it all Oh, life is hard when hearts are soft Steals the very breathe from us Reason brings callouses To the budding of dreams And rain weakens roots So, I must tend to these weeds As if it is sane to garden At 1 am in the rain
Minitroubadoura 2018

Lo! Lovely lusty peach
Russet jewel, round and full
You draw my eyes
That have long been fixed
To the ground with heavy heart
Wake me up

Oh I awake to joy
I, who was bound to shadows
by silver tendrils
by whispers
by fog

But now I see the harvest moon
That I recall from youth
and my heart quickens
Oh, awake my glee, my joy

I had given you to phantoms
and received my pay, my due
and now you pull me to the stars
You blood-red harvest moon







Mini Troubadoua 2018

Misplaced Melodies
I cannot place my finger upon it That tune that has plagued me, And that is what drives me mad Trying to recall a forgotten song Trying to forget a mistaken melody
Cupping my hand to my ear To catch the stars singing Straining my eyes, To see what purple the moon makes When it kisses the edge of a cloud
And it aches my heart, So, I catch my breath, And I double back, Then I surge ahead
All for naught, For I know how the song will end though I have yet to play it through
My eyes, on a sky I cannot

Smoke Screen Illusion
Stay with me..this will come around to a point, I promise. It is a journey that I hope will illustrate the need to move from suspicion and fear (which fulfills a political agenda on both sides of the table) to the deep appreciation of another culture's music and poetry. Here we go, but before we do...a tasty snack of my current favorite Spanish language Jazz artist.....

This is currently my favorite song. Camila Meza is amazing. She sings in Spanish also. She scats AND PLAYS what she scats at the same time. I can't even chew gum and play the cello at the same time...

Lack of Resources As a child, I was raised in southern California. The school I went to had 1 white girl and 2 black, my sister and me. We were called caca and little caca, our brown skin resembling poop. I spoke fluent Spanish within the context of play (pujame!). I recall my math book being in Spanish, saying the pledge of allegiance in Spanish and having to read English in the corner becau…

Criticism and Growth I feel Ella is one of the classiest, talented women in the world. Her voice is sheer perfection. It just is. Clear, eloquent and playful when desired and soulful when desired. By throwing myself into her body of work, I got to read and hear about her journey. She was a street kid. She danced and sang on the street corner. When she auditioned for Chick Webb, they said no, she was fat and she stank...she was to black and to ugly (they were looking for a pretty rival for Billie Holiday). She could hear them. She auditioned anyway with her head held high. Her diction, tone, pitch....PERFECT. 


She did not allow criticism to keep her from growing, she used it as a vehicle for growth. They dressed her, got her hair done. Let her sleep at the club and shower. She did not leave butthurt and empty-handed. She left being the FIRST LADY OF SWING (she got to pick her music from the standards coming out before anyone else including Billie Holiday). The black community made fun …

At night, when my wings are laid to rest And my love and I prepare for the little death, (The one that has hope of morning light on soft brown skin), I chatter like a child and place my head upon his chest
And there is joy and expectation, for one day We will be planted in the earth like seeds Our bodies laid side by side he and I In the land his ancestors plowed Proudly put an X on the deed (Pride of ownership far outweighing the shame of illiteracy),
My love and I will wait, we, Will wake to true light Every tear, every tear Ever shed, consoled Truth and light Maranatha


Copyright 2018

I had a dream I found a letter With mad scribbling on the page Etched with heartfelt sentiments, in an alphabet unknown to me.
It arrived in my pocket at a time most inconvenient but I pulled it out none the less The writer, dead and gone
I had no surprise it arrived there,  I watched the letters vanish off the page. I saw it with my own eyes, the paper vanished too. Empirical proof in mind, no words, no paper, no writer: I searched Frantically (I add with a slight head tilt of shame) I searched for the phantom words in thin air. Searched my pocket for the vanished page.



Theminitroubadoura Copyright 2018

THE BEAUTY OF CULTURAL SHARING
One of my favorite places in the world is the Korean Spa. I love the treatments, yes. Himalayan salt rooms, jasmine-scented herbal baths. All of these things intice and indulge me. But what I like most is playing connect for with someone who speaks very little English and me, no Korean. We get along with smiles and laughs and table pounding. The universal language of I am beating the crap out of you in connect four. I love that about Dallas. Yet in East Texas, I do not have the chances like I do in big cities to immerse myself in other cultures. So when we heard of the Turnip fest, I knew greens would be eaten (by me), but I was not prepared for the cultural exchange in this Deep East Texas Town.


 I bought these at a Bud's Snowball table. The snowballs were good, but these changed my life.


THE WINNER ISSSSSSSSS The winner to me was this dish. It was a wonderful example of cultural sharing. It is a wonton pocket deep fried, filled with greens, cheese, …

PROTECTING YOUR ASSETS-SUPPLEMENTS AND SELF-CARE ON THE ROAD
I have played many a gig where I am exposed to the elements. I get lost in what I am playing, and hours later I am sick as a dog from sun exposure. I have freckles (even on my lips) and a sun allergy. Not only do I get a burn, I get a rash under that and spike a fever. Buskers and musicians that play outside also have to tackle dehydration. So, I had to come up with a game plan and an emergency kit. We will cover some areas one needs to look out for and I will also include some products I cannot live without.
I notice when I am dehydrated, I have horrible leg cramps if we have to sleep over in the car on the road. I mean really bad. No matter how I stretch out (and I can with these short little legs) I cannot stop my legs from cramping and spazzing. I make sure my magnesium intake is up to par. I do not like red dyes and sugar so I found this mix to be awesome. It uses stevia as a sweetener. One packet makes a liter. It is l…

I have played music from the age of 12 but I had not written a song. Why? Because I am accustomed to being an accompanist. I deeply enjoy being lost in sheets of music, hiding behind a stand, a part of the whole. Being in a band gives a sense of being in a family. Like any other family, there is comfort in being able to hide in it. I find playing and singing alone in front of people daunting which is cray-cray because as a counselor, I taught 4-hour groups in front of 56 people. Five days a week. No sweat. But, like many artists, I write from pain and tribulations so I think that is what is the difference for me. The transparency.

I already leave it on the stage as a performer. I get lost and dig for every performance...can't help it. To an empty cafe, or to a packed listening audience...I bring it. I guess I felt like I wanted to keep something for me, my work, my poetry, my voice.... While busking all over the country I started to see the bravery of people. Putting it out there…