- Sasha Sloan - Fall
- Myrkur - Tva Konungabarn
- Joanna Jinton - Kulning (Ancient Herding Calls) Winter's Lullaby
- Gary Jules Featuring Michael Andrews - Mad World
- Isolated - Ora
- Hallatar - Severed Eyes
- Arum Rae - Gold
- Joy Division - Atmosphere
- Jaymes Young - I'll Be Good
- Shovels & Rope - Shank Hill Street
- Antimatter - Angelic
- Kazukii - Need
- Dropkick Murphy's - The Green Fields of France
- Wayr - Sleeping Forest
- Alec Benjamin & Alessia Cara - Let Me Down Slowly
- Tori Amos - Winter
Poetry / Spoken Word from SV
Winter Morning Escape
Lets go somewhere where the wifi can't touch us they said.
An adventure. The trees so beautifully defined, outlined in white so fine.
A quiet in the freshest air. We could run away from almost everything on a morning like this.
It smells like the real world here, where we go to escape our realities.
It feels like truth here, among the pines and bare branches.
We can lose ourselves here, among that truth and reality.
We are beyond this place, as we are part of it.
We are already connected here, no networks in range
Just for a little while.
Last Post
Red and yellow leaves whipped into the air, and skated across the the playground, bouncing off the concrete, as the children gathered.
An old man in uniform held the standard, his wife by his side, and a selection of children ready to read poems or show their artwork. Poppies and proud soldiers, to the end, they remain.
To their left stood the man with the bugle. Solemn he stood, like the dark clouds crying fine tears over us on the dreary, windswept day.
With conviction, he stepped forward, like a man ready to face his destiny one more time. Not fearless, but determined, unshakable in his commitment.
He placed the bugle to his lips, and began to play. The lonely, haunting notes defiant against the day. And as the last post sounded, the bells from the church on the hill began to sound, each chime a snapshot, time disordered and unimportant, fallen in the cause of the free...
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
-
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
...With apologies to Robert Laurence Binyon...
Snowdrop
Light comes from darkness, always ... so long as you let it ...
If I said there were fairies in the garden
Would you sit under the tree with me
Shallow moonlight, in and out of sight
Will you share the hidden journey and see
A mild winter they say brings them early
Snowdrops so fragile, gentle and new
Like a silent tear, or dream of a new idea
Waiting for sun, just wishing for you
The days are still grey and short
Winter storms may be moments away
So sit with me, under the old garden tree
Among snowdrops we'll watch fairies play
Other Contributors / Samples
- Jonna Jinton - Ice Speech https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chxn2szgEAg
- Vers Libre Voice Sample
- Thomas Hardy - The Darkling Thrush https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44325/the-darkling-thrush
- Ramshackle Rhymester - Winter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8NY64uciss
