Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “music”


Music, friends, and wine.
Enduring memories grow
from fleeting moments.



My Life – Purchasing Music

Teenager buys record
pulls on big headphones to listen to music
so parents won’t complain about the noise.
Glue a penny to the tone arm to combat scratch damage.

Twenty-something – popping 8-Tracks
into the car stereo, (use a guitar pick
to shim it when it gets loose). The inevitable
CLUNK in the middle of your favourite song.

Time rocks on and the cassettes,
never in their cases, slither across the car floor.
“Pass me a Bic pen, the tape’s too loose.”
You’ve just about replaced your whole music library when…

Compact Disc – Stick it in a portable CD player and
plug in your earbuds. Jewel case splinters, ‘liner notes’
you need a magnifying glass to read, and one thumb
print and the music stops.

MP3 – compress that music so you can fit thousands of songs
on a postage stamp. Quantity over quality?
Perfect for pod-people, but at least the cost
of CDs goes down.

Flashback. Back to headphones. Back to vinyl. Is this the end?
Am I back in time listening to records again. Why
didn’t I keep those records…

Pono? What’s Pono?
Here we go again.
How many times do I have to buy the White Album?


The Illustrated Child

Every now and then she breaks out
in tattoo ink.
Her body a shrine to what she holds dear.
Her children, music, even flowers remembered
from her grandmother’s garden – all imprinted
on her memory and on limbs and back.
It’s only rational that someone who wears
her heart on her sleeve
would not flinch at wearing her love
on her skin.

# 85

I Am Like a Restrung Guitar

Unwound, unwound, unwound
with lowering  moans and sighs the old dead strings
give up their place. A release
of tension. Freed from peg and anchor
they lie, silent on the floor.

New strings spring from enveloped coils;
leap out, eager to take their place,
to discover their voices.
Wound, wound, wound
with hopeful ascending trills
and the music is renewed
and renews.

It takes time and patience,
constantly re-tuning to reach the right notes,
but new strings are willing to stretch,
willing to take the tension
just so they can sing.

I am that guitar.
I have new strings.
Sing with me.


The Power of Strings

I wrote this poem in ‘concrete’ form and, of course, the blog won’t let me use my formatting. So I’ve saved it as a picture and posted it below.
I’ll try to save it to a higher resolution on my other computer but wanted to get it onto the blog – after all – it is ‘poem a day’ !
33-The Power of Strings graphic












Earworm, Earworm,
measuring my sanity.
You and your repeating tune
are going to drive me mad.

Earworm, Earworm,
measuring my sanity
This is the result, it seems,
when melodies go bad.


The Way of Things

Silence infiltrates music
wraps itself around each note,
framing melodies like negative space in a picture.

Music seduces silence,
awakening the longing
of a soundless soul to dance with eyes closed.



Frozen Heart – (song lyric)

I thought you might be interested in another form of ‘poetry’ that I write – song lyrics. If you click on this link (it’s the fifth song down) you can scroll down and hear the song being performed (from my CD “Breathe”)


There’s a chill in the room

I put another log on the fire

But I know that the flames are never gonna burn much higher.

There’s a chill in the room

No need to wonder where it starts

It’s a cold wind blowin’ over my frozen heart.


The ice – began to form – – years ago

Like a glacier creepin’ through the snow

The ice age came then rumbled on

Freezing my heart like a mastodon

Now I’m ancient hist’ry, me and my frozen heart

Live Music in the Night

I awoke this morning with music in my head.
Snippets and riffs from last night jangling
and dangling, misplaced quarter notes hanging
from synapses like clothes left strewn on the floor.
The tiny tintinnabulations telling me.
There is nothing as visceral, as primal, as right
as live music in the night.


Last evening, Bill and I attended the Chetwynd Coffee House – There really is no substitute for live music – no matter how good the recording or how wonderful the sound system – live music will always be an unsurpassably immediate and shared experience. I was also very pleased to have played a few of my songs for the audience and was grateful for their kind welcome.

Friends Who Sing

There are notes inside of notes
when two voices blend.
The joyful noise that happens
when vocalists are friends.

The sharing goes beyond the sound
of music, notes, or words.
It’s something that the audience
may have never heard.

Goals, dreams, and visions,
these all become a part
when the voices blending
are singing from their hearts.


Last night I sang backup vocals for my good friend Barb Munro ( at her CD release concert. Check out her website – you can hear some clips of her music over there. (I know, small picture! I’m the smudge to the left of the smudge in the middle with the guitar, lol). Harmonizing is fun but harmonizing with a friend is fun to the tenth power)

Photo by Janina Carlstad

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