Here, you’ll find the stuff that Stan Stewart has created: poetry, music, inspirations, staying connected with the present moment, photography, and more.
Rapids rush downstream, much as a life Does. Fleeting and flowing at each different Turn. Neither fleet nor flow pauses much Except When it gets caught in the boundaried edges of Channel And shore. There, it swarms in eddies of swirl and Even Backwards currents. No longer — for the moment — Hurling And hurtling […]
Seriously, I know it’s not September. It’s just that September cannot come soon enough. This Summer heat beats down on me. My flesh is damp in response to the roasting I’m receiving, and yet, is not nearly cooling enough. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t relish the idea Of being that much older. My birthday
Just a suggestion: Maybe just for a moment You could smile. Doesn’t matter if it’s On the inside or the out. I am simply knowing that The lack of smiles is Making my insides sad. With this poem, I profess That the rest of this day Will be one big smile Of love for the
The bass player’s fingers are doing A tiny, delightful dance; Rollicking and frolicking under The soloing ivories. He knows how to find The rhythm and pitch that Blend to perfection; Interweaving interplay. Far from the dance of two Left feet: this is the spontaneous Movement that flows from soul To soul – his, yours, mine, ours.
When warm (Or even temperate) Rain raps on the roof, It provides a reassuring Rhythm that soothes. When Winter-chilled rain Taps it’s icy fingers on Window panes, It does not soothe nor Reassure. ~ spontaneously composed by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011 by muz4now, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
I drew stillness From The Deck. Her avatar? A peace sign. Right now, I think my Avatar is A race car. Zipping ahead Without thought For the energy Being consumed Or the loudness Generated. And all this Speed and combustion And noise Is doing so little to Improve on what Was already Here. ~ spontaneously
There is one thing And another. Grey twigs stand upright At ends of limbs. They decorate the also-grey sky As a foreground reminder: No leaves grace these Woodland tendrils. It is as if they are unclothed, Vulnerable and exposed To Winter’s cold. What inner warmth Do they rely on to carry Them through the snow?
Here’s an unedited piece that I just improvised this morning. Piano instrumental improvisation for your enjoyment! Please spread the word using the share buttons!
A shaft of sunbeam awakens me at dawn. My slumber has been of one dead for a thousand years: Deadened by thoughts of culpability and then, Sudden innocence. Awe and wonder overtake the moment As the light settles in. But fear raises expectations of loss and Grandeur — neither of which hold a place In this reality, nor
On November 11, 2011 (commonly referred to as 11-11-11), I spent over 6 hours in a high school classroom offering an experience of InterPlay techniques and forms to 6 different classes of students. I’m grateful to my co-teacher, Anita Bondi, who is a magnificent teacher and improviser. She responded to the students in the moment in
