Song Lyric Sunday – Don’t be such an Oxymoron!

The Song Lyric Sunday Challenge this week the challenge is to select two songs and discuss some type of relevant association between them, compare and contrast.  Click on the link below to see Jim Adam’s post and to take part in the challenge.

https://jimadamsauthordotcom.wordpress.com/2021/05/22/improving-comprehension/

Also, Fandango has chosen the word Oxymoron as his word of the day and so I thought of two songs that have titles that are both Oxymorons.

Firstly, by Simon and Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence.

Silence is, of course, the absence of sound and therefore how can it have any sound at all? However, we have all felt the intense pressure that can come about when there is a heavy silence in the room.

This song was originally written by Paul Simon in 1964 and recorded in October on their debut album which was a commercial failure, then two years later the song was included in their second album, remixed and it was a hit in 1966.

The Lyrics are:

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silenceIn restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silenceAnd in the naked light, I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence”Fools”, said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silenceAnd the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls”
And whispered in the sound of silence.

In contrast, I wanted to fly the flag for another band from the 60’s, The Mamas and the Papas. They recorded a version of the Rodgers and Hart song, Glad to be Unhappy, another Oxymoron and another hit in the 60’s this time 1967.

It takes a lot of gumption to record a song from the classic era of musicals written by one of the top writing duos of the 1930’s, but then The Mamas and The Papas never lacked gumption and never failed in making beautiful music together.

The Lyrics:

Look at yourself, if you had a sense of humor
You would laugh to beat the band
Look at yourself, do you still believe the rumor
That romance is simply grand?
Since you took it right on the chin
You have lost that bright toothpaste grin
My mental state is all a-jumble
I sit around and sadly mumble
Fools rush in, so here I am
Very glad to be unhappy
I can’t win, but here I am
More than glad to be unhappy
Unrequited love’s a bore
And I’ve got it pretty bad
But for someone you adore
It’s a pleasure to be sad
Like a straying baby lamb
With no mammy and no pappy
I’m so unhappy
But oh, so glad

I hope you enjoyed these contrasting songs that are both hits of the 60’s and both oxymorons, well you’d be a bit of an oxymoron not to! 🙂

I have also included the following prompt words:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2021/05/23/rdp-sunday-gumption/

https://fivedotoh.com/2021/05/23/fowc-with-fandango-oxymoron/

Sound of Silence – Apologies

Many of you will have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet of late. This time of year is just so stressful and I find that just cramps my creativity.

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Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

I wanted to apologise for not blogging much or visiting other blogs. I do have some plans to write some more stories and poems soon, including my continuation of a murder mystery starring Miss Lemon, former secretary to Hercule Poirot, which was inspired by a recent trip to Agatha Christie’s home in Devon.

Check out the post here:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2019/10/06/a-frisson-from-the-past-part-one/

 

I was also inspired by the Word of the Day – NAKED, to share a song clip by Simon and Garfunkel, Sound of Silence.

Part of the lyric is “In the naked light I saw, 10,000 people, maybe more.”

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/12/13/naked/

Twittering Tales – Everyone’s Talking

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Photo by raw pixel @ pixabay.com

 

It created a stir when the local theatre group decided to perform a play by a keen new playwright who used poetic license to convey his own take on social media.

It didn’t earn much money but it made the point that on the internet, everyone’s talking but not much is being said.

 

[279 Characters]

 

This story was written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales Challenge. Click the link below to see her post:

Twittering Tales #162 – 12 November 2019

 

I have also included the following word prompts:

FOWC with Fandango — License

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/11/18/earn/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/11/18/rdp-monday-stir/

 

 

Manic Monday Madness – Evanescent Journey

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This post is written in response to Laura M Bailey’s Manic Monday Challenge:

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2019/01/21/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-evanescent/

The prompt word is: EVANESCENT

I am also planning to include the Manic Madness challenger:

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2019/01/23/its-manic-madness-can-you-do-it/

Which is to also include ALL of the previous Manic Monday prompts!!!!

I usually like to combine as many different prompts into one story as possible, but this is going to be a huge challenge.

Mysterious

Summertime

Confession

Silence

Poison

Castle

Wrecked

Ghostly

Forlorn

Dirge

Hush

Journey

Departing

Stoic

Boondocks

Scars

Damned

Ominous

Witch – Witchy – Bewitched

Deadly

Reaper

Reverence

Sultry

Heart

Waiting

Frozen

Naughty or Nice

Rejoice

Reflection

Shattered

Imperfection

Well I LOVE a challenge so here we go:

 

The fog descended thick and fast over the harbour.

Within moments the boats and the jetty had soon disappeared out of sight and memory, evanescent.

It was a fog like none of the locals had seen before. Mists and fogs were not rare in Winter or Spring. Whenever the weather brought a change in temperature, the lake gave off a mist that often didn’t burn away until lunchtime. This was different. For starters, it was Summertime. In addition, it was much thicker than usual and it brought with it a kind of ghostly silence, a mysterious hush. It felt that time itself had frozen.

In addition to the ominous lack of sound, there was a scent in the air. It reminded her of something from her childhood. Something that she had long forgotten but dwelled within the darkest recesses of her mind. It filled her with emotions. That longing for the past that people call nostalgia, a sense of comfort that came with it, but was tinged with anxiety. Her heart began to race, she felt an upwelling sense of adventure. She was going on a journey. She knew this fact as sure as anything, but she did not know how.

This experience was like a witch had cast a spell over the area, an enchantment. Then she remembered her parents warning to her when she’d told them she wanted to move away into this quiet, primitive part of the world. They’d warned her that strange things happened up in the ‘boondocks’, that was her Mother’s colourful way of describing anywhere wild.

She’d ignored her Mother’s warning, but until this moment, had not regretted it. She’d felt somehow like she’d come home. Away from the busy city and bustling towns, this was where her spirit felt she belonged.

Suddenly she remembered what the smell reminded her of. Her Grandmother, who disappeared nearly twenty years ago. She had only been a child then, not more than six or seven. She remembered her Grandmother’s perfume, a mix of Eau de Cologne, lavender and rose petals, tinged with cinnamon and freshly baked bread. This exact same smell came to her through the mist.

She recalled then, her Grandmother’s confession to her before departing.

“I am a Witch, child, not a wicked witch. I have been no more naughty, or nice, than anyone else. We are, all of us, flawed with imperfection, but I have strived to walk in the light. You too have inherited the gift. It skips generations. Your Mother, my dear daughter, has not got the skill and therefore I have been forced to keep it a secret from her. I must leave soon, but One day you will remember this, and then we will undertake our journey together.”

After her Grandmother disappeared, they had mourned the loss of her. She’d felt a forlorn melancholy for weeks. Her Mother had been distraught. The emotional scars burned deep.

How could she have forgotten this, until now? Upon reflection, she realised that it must be part of the spell. The forgetting and the remembering.

Now it felt that she had only been waiting for this moment.

A figure stepped out of the fog in front of her. Still wrapped in the black woollen shawl, worn whatever the weather, her glowing white hair still cascaded down to her shoulders, with that hint of pale gold that was a remnant of her once sultry beauty. This was her Grandmother looking as if she’d just stepped out from her memory.
The lined face beamed a smile and she reached out a hand to clasp her own.

To her surprise, the hand was as warm as the smile.

“There you are, my precious. It is time to make this journey. Be strong, I will guide you.”

The fog began to lift. The scene had changed. Where the lake once stood, with its jetty and boats, there was now a deep chasm. Where the log cabins once clung to the side of the hill as it gently descended to the water, there was nothing but rocks and trees.

On the other side of the chasm stood a castle, a grand and shining fortress of light and splendour. The sun shone resplendently on that mighty castle, yet around it, darkness billowed like a deadly storm.

The sight of the fortress filled her with reverence, she wanted to cry out and rejoice.

At the same time, the darkness, like a poison, injected her with dread and fear.

Her grandmother must have felt her hand tense in hers, because again she spoke, in reassuring, gentle tones.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear. The journey is a difficult one. We must pass through the valley, filled with the souls of the damned, harvested by the Reaper. They call out in their eternal torment. Be stoic and do not fear them. I have you, and together we will walk over the bridge. Keep to the light, and we will be safe.”

All around them, she saw wrecked and shattered souls, surrounded by darkness, but she stepped onwards, guided by her grandmother’s hand, she kept to the path and made it to the gates of the castle.

The Gates opened and she was engulfed in the glorious light that shone from within.

 

Back in the hospital, her life support machine rang out a single note, like a dirge, but on her face was a smile of peace.

 

screenshot_20190121-165647_google

The End. 

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 25/January/2019

 

Well, what did you think? Did the story take you on a journey? Did it conjure up any feeling within you? Let me know in the comments. 

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/combine/

 

 

 

 

Silenced – A short story in 85 words

Laura M Bailey at All the shoes I wear is hosting a word prompt challenge on Mondays, see link below.

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2018/07/02/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-silence/

I thought I would have a go at this one. I have also included Sheryl’s word of the day – Desultory.

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/02/your-daily-word-prompt-desultory-july-2nd-2018/

Screenshot_20180625-190039_Samsung Internet-02

SILENCED

The Silence hung ominously in the night air. It was strange just how loud silence could be. 

As I stared off in the distance, I saw the sudden flaring light.

The mushroom cloud of doom that proclaimed to what was left of the world that the madman hadn’t been bluffing after all. He had meant the threats he had delivered in such a desultory fashion.

This was the silence that carried meaning.

The silence of a million voices that would no longer be heard.