the last humans are finding a safe haven of incredible beauty after having fled the desasters that have wiped out the rest. I can see it in front of me. beautiful

Magnífico !!!!  .... me encanta ese coro .....

All that essence of beauty contained is fantastic.

How lucky to be surrounded by music, it's magic, and profound depth of emotion!  Thank you Frank!

Ghost Train

What began as a prosaic comment evolved into an enriching collaboration.  Our friend and Soundcloud poet laurate Peter joins us on a fishing voyage.  Seagull, not content to do a simple voice over, remixes the track and places us on a fishing boat, the sea a bit rough, the gulls impatient for part of the catch, and Peter not just reading but dynamically narrating what he is experiencing on the deck of the ship.  What an honor to work with these artists enlarging on our previous collaboration.  Please check out more of Seagull's music @farout-music-studio, and Peter's poignant songs and poetry @user-264930040

My sanctuary from archive gleans
The gentle times, wherein my mind
Recalls a childhood spent in dreams
Of bobbing boats on ocean spied.

Here, the call of a benevolent sea
The briny, perfumed honesty
Of adolescent memories.

But whence this salty desert sea
Where once the skinny trawler plied?
Plastic water ocean streams
Where finny, swimmy fish should lie.

Silenced of the chuggy motors
Decimated by their quotas
Where the haddock, cod and herring bloaters?

The factory ships that hoovered clean
Of scaly friends the sea main wide.
Its cheaply speckled high protein
Squandered as the herring gull cried.

Where the fishers, where the boats?
Where the nets, and yellow rubber coats?
Where the pots, and lines and corky floats?

...wherein my mind
Recalls a childhood spent in dreams
Of bobbing boats on ocean spied.
Why, they set sail for the past it seems,
Upon tomorrow's ebbing tide.

Childhood Memory--Updated (Seagull, David, and featuring Peter)

Soul Inspiration

Wrong Spell For Crimson Divinations My Dear Runny Angel Eye

YouTube Link:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ekkhb7shUw

Secret Garden 2

#Rnb #guitar #soul #InternetMoney #trap #HipHop #liltecca #lilmosey #JuiceWRLD #NickMira #typebeat 🌊🌊🌊
188bpm
D#m

www.beatstars.com/cirrrcle/
biggycircle@gmail.com
instagram.com/cirrrcle

cirrrcle x Beatbauerjonas - STILL WAITING(RnB Soul guitar Trap Internet Money Lil tecca typebeat)

Hope the sound is ok, for the time being I can only hear with one ear
Added electric guitars
If you like, free download

Europe In Flames

https://youtu.be/nsstoyjJB_o - SPECIAL DISCOVERY VERSION 🧑‍🚀🚀

Esperanto: a great idea of a world language. But isn't it the music that connects us? And just look how beautiful life is! Preserve it. In your heart, for future generations, for yourselves. The here and now is over so tremendously fast...

Enjoy every moment, even if it is only the blink of an eye of your counterpart.

🌹💜

cover & art by DALL-E, Photoshop CS5 & frank mehl 😊

Special Version 🧑‍🚀

La Beleco De Estaĵo | The Beauty Of Life

Based on Jimmie Rodgers performance/version - written by Hoffman/Manning/Markwell - Cover

Secretly - Jimmie Rodgers’ version - Cover

Sax ensemble, sax solo and mastering, Mario Sboarina https://soundcloud.com/rosmarinobaia 
Sonopoetry (stream of consciousness technique) and mixing, Ilaria Boffa
pic, Euganean Hills, June 2023, IB

Elegy
The river is no longer that river
the landscape not that landscape
you used to skirt and redraw.

I see you crossing soybean fields 
dauntless and determined like an African woman 
balancing a basket on her head.

I wish I could plunge my fingers
into your fur dense and wavier 
and pretend I hadn’t counted your vertebrae. 

Cracks smash the meadow, unsteady 
the narrow access to the bight, boots tag along 
tearing off lianas behind you.

The damp of splashes in the swoosh and chirp
of countless plants and flights
over four thousand four hundred eighty-six days.

Pervasive your gaze on things
the way you located yourself in space
never arbitrary.

Head held down to meet mine
wilderness and wild thistles’ scent
bora.

When dismay floods in, sudden
a pang of loneliness sucks up the void
crushing it in the throat tightened 

as if by rope.
Thus you unveiled surrender and
what has been will not be.

Elegia
Il fiume non è più quel fiume 
il paesaggio non più quel paesaggio
che eri solita costeggiare e ridisegnare. 

Ti vedo attraversare i campi di soia
impavida e determinata come una donna africana
la cesta sul capo.

Vorrei poter affondare le mie dita
nel tuo pelo spesso e ondulato
e fingere di non aver contato le vertebre.

Crepe spaccano il terreno, instabile 
lo stretto accesso all’ansa, gli stivali inseguono 
strappano liane dietro di voi.

Umido di schizzi nel fruscio e cinguettio
di innumerevoli piante e voli
in quattromilaquattrocentoottantasei giorni.

Pervasivo il tuo sguardo sulle cose 
il modo di posizionarti nello spazio
mai casuale.

La testa abbassata a incontrare la mia 
odore di landa e cardi selvatici
bora.

Quando assale improvviso lo sgomento 
una fitta di solitudine risucchia il vuoto
e lo preme nella gola costretta 

come da corda.
Così hai rivelato la resa e
ciò che è stato non sarà.

Elegy/Elegia (Mario Sboarina & Ilaria Boffa)

In the misty, ancient woods of the Celtic lands, where towering oaks and whispering willows guarded secrets of old, a young princess named Eira moved with silent determination. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and hope as she fled through the dense forest, the soft earth muffling her hurried footsteps.
Eira had been taken from her homeland by a rival clan, held captive in a stone fortress far from the familiar hills and valleys of her birth. But the spirit of her people, strong and unyielding, coursed through her veins. Under the cover of darkness, she had escaped her captors, driven by a burning desire for freedom and the safety of her family.
The forest, bathed in the pale light of dawn, seemed both a sanctuary and a maze. Eira knew these woods from the stories her grandmother had told her, tales of ancient spirits and protective deities who watched over those pure of heart. With each step, she could feel the presence of her ancestors, guiding her path through the twisting trails and shadowed glens.
As she moved deeper into the forest, a sense of calm began to wash over her, despite the peril that lay behind. The sound of a distant stream mingled with the rustling leaves, creating a soothing symphony that echoed the melody playing in her mind—a relaxed piano instrumental titled "Celtic Forest." This music had always been a source of comfort for Eira, a composition her mother used to play during times of trouble.
The piano’s gentle notes painted images of her homeland, with its rolling green hills and ancient stone circles. Eira could almost hear her mother’s voice, reminding her to stay strong and follow her heart. Each note was a reminder of why she had to keep moving, why she had to find her way back.
As the morning light grew stronger, Eira spotted a familiar landmark—a towering oak with a massive trunk and branches that seemed to touch the sky. Her spirits lifted; she was close to the hidden path that would lead her back to her village. The path was known only to her people, a secret passed down through generations to ensure their safety in times of strife.
With renewed vigor, Eira quickened her pace. The music in her mind swelled, the piano’s serene and steady rhythm guiding her like a beacon. Every chord, every gentle melody, pushed her forward, closer to the freedom she longed for and the family she missed dearly.
Finally, she reached the hidden path, a narrow trail concealed by overhanging branches and thick underbrush. As she stepped onto the familiar ground, a sense of triumph and relief surged through her. She was almost home.
Eira continued along the path, the music of "Celtic Forest" still playing in her mind, a testament to her journey and her unwavering spirit. She knew there were challenges yet to face, but she also knew that with the strength of her heritage and the guiding melody in her heart, she would find her way back to her people and the safety of her homeland.
The forest had protected her, the music had inspired her, and now, freedom awaited her just beyond the trees.

Celtic Forest

It seems that SC has problems with comments. It's a shame that you can't express how much you like a track you're listening to... 😕

When I don't have the time to actively listen to my favorite artists on soundcloud, I just leave the stream running...while washing up in the kitchen, for example 😆

By the way: this user-92853963 was my old link address and leads to the empty.... I AM NOT A ROBOT!

********************************************************************

A long, long time ago, there was an organ in the Christmas-decorated living room in his parents' house, where Frank grew up. Originally bought by his father for his two older siblings, they showed no interest in playing the organ. Frank, however, did. White and black keys and giving off strange sounds. 

So at the age of 9 he began to let his fingers circle on this instrument, searching for the right keys like on a typewriter. And another 9 years would pass before he could buy his first own instrument. Already at the age of 13 he made notes about the then current synthesizers, bought one magazine after the other and visited music fairs in Frankfurt, Germany.

His first keyboard was the Yamaha DSR-2000, which he bought in a music store near his hometown Biebertal. In installments! Finally he could develop himself further - away from the limited tonality of the small organ. The built-in 8-track sequencer helped him to reach unimagined heights. 
Little by little his equipment expanded and his ambition to create music like that of Jean-Michel Jarres came closer. Influenced by this and countless other musicians of the time, his interest grew, but he taught himself everything. Not even having attended a music school or being able to read music at all, he wrote one song after another and recorded them on the only medium available to him at the time: audio cassettes.
Many of these recordings are unfortunately lost forever, because cassettes are and were not the best recording medium. He has to try to play many of his songs from memory. 

In 2007, he fulfilled a long-awaited wish: to buy a KORG. He had always wanted to own one, but with the latest synthesizers at the time of their release having a purchase price of over 6000 D-marks (the currency of the time in the 1980s and 1990s), that dream of owning one was far away. So in 2007 he bought a used KORG 01W/FD at ebay. And as before with the purchase of the Yamaha keyboard, a completely new world opened up to him.

In addition, there were expanders and sound modules from Kawai, Roland and Yamaha (K1m, SC-55, QY10). Six years later his enthusiasm for making music ebbed and rediscovered his hobby (which it always was and still is). In 2018 in April he decided to present his music to a wider audience and uploaded his first song on the platform soundcloud. Since that time, thanks also to the ever-evolving software, he continues to evolve, experiment and relive his times through music.

La Beleco De Estaĵo | The Beauty Of Life

𝐹𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝑀𝑒𝒽𝓁

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