Strange Weirdos
“. . . and it starts with a sentence
that might last a lifetime
or it all might just go down in flames
if i let you know me
then why would you want me
but each day i don’t is a shame
each day i don’t is a great shame . . . “
fish and chips in bristol 052207
i’ve been sitting by the water
i’ve been noticing the tides
i’ve been sitting here for days now
i’ve been watching ships go by
the bigger ships upon the water
the tugboats pull them slowly by
they take them outside of the harbor
to where i cannot see them with my eyes
i sit and watch the local ferries
some they go and some arrive
there’s always someone saying hello
and someone always says goodbye
i always hear the seagulls laughter
a private joke that’s aged with brine
me, i’m just sitting by the water
i’m having fish and chips tonight
and days they come
and days they go
the fisher casts his net
though he doesn’t know
what hides beneath the surface water
what lies beneath the waves tonight
ships like driftwood on the water
they move so slow is it my eyes
have i been sleeping by the water
have i been watching years go by
have i been sleeping by the water
have i been watching years go by?
okay, maybe i’ll just stick to “puff the magic dragon”– let’s see g . . . c . . . d . . .
(picture 1977, collage 1998 djw) 2nd picture 2005
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Serendipity
a couple of weeks ago i stumbled across a poem that had been inspired by my step-son jordan– i can’t remember exactly what we were doing but i won’t forget the way he looked at me with a grin and asked “are there any more of those tree-huggin hippies left around anymore?” this question, of course caused serious re-analyzation, re-evaluation and psychological re-exploration on my part within my thoughts and value system and it was several years later (2005) when the hair was once again hanging on my shoulders that i constructed the poem as a tribute to my step-son– as often is the fact the words were never quite finished and i left the poem floating around the cranial server until a couple of weeks ago– a couple of weeks ago i stumbled across a poem that had been inspired by my step-son jordan–
with a smile on my face i started to re-work the poem and got out the guitar and started playing with a melody– as i often do, i recorded a basic guitar track and was beginning to add the vocals– but as is often the case, i soon became distracted and then backed away from the piece for a bit–
i often read papers (online) from throughout the new england area and i was reading the providence journal and enjoying the rhode island flavor when i noticed an article which mentioned a musical group called “folks together“– the name of one of the band members caught my eye and i was surprizingly pleased to see that it was rick bellaire, a man who had been my guitar teacher when i was in my teens– having moved away from the state in the early eighties i had lost track of rick and was pleased to see that he was still performing in the new england area– although i knew him mainly as an instructor, rhode island at that time had a 18 yr old drinking law and i was fortunate enough to be able to hear him play several times at a night club in harmony, ri–
(edit 052807: i am now questioning whether or not it was the providence journal or a link from the providence journal which linked me to the folks together page– i have since looked to establish this but cannot do so–)
after seeing the homepage for “folks together“, i began to realize that i had hardly known rick and to read about him now made me realize how fortunate i was to have had even a small part of his guidance– it’s funny, but i still recall him instructing me on how to play “the wind” by cat stevens and “part of the plan” by dan fogelberg even though it is now thirty years later– i also recall him being kind enough to listen to an amateur record that i recorded at a local studio and being honest enough by telling me that i needed more variety in my playing and in my composition–
(edit 052707: as i was driving home last night i reached for my copy of loudon wainwright III’s “here come the choppers” remembering that it was just a year ago that kathleen and i saw him at the egg and as i put the cd in i started laughing with the realization that it was rick that had introduced me to loudon’s music when he encouraged me to buy the album “t-shirt”–)
my composition . . . . well, i think i might change a couple of chords and perhaps add a little variety and hopefully the recording will be done soon and also on the site– for now, here are the lyrics– peace
old folky days 073005
my son was asking me about it just the other day
he asked if there were any of those tree-huggin hippies left around
i chuckled at the thought and looked in the mirror at my shaved head
and in a flash an old hippie he was found
and i was back in the old days
back in those old folky days
i was remembering times, places and the sounds
no we didn’t always do things right
but it seems that peace and love were always in mind
and you would try to help your brother or your sister
if they were feeling down
back in the old days
back in those old folky days
i remember the writing on the wall
the slogans which we held as law
another mother for peace
another human for love
another voice that had a right to make a dissenting sound
back in the old days
we listened to the wind
back in the old days
i find i’m listening again
and now i hear the voices calling like a holy choir
raging into a storm
time to get up from the rocking chair
and wander into the house
fire that pc and monitor up
and grab hold of that mouse
time to write the president
and tell him he’s had his chance
didn’t buy the crap before
and we won’t get fooled again
like . . .
back in the old days
back in the old folky days
i awoke in the morning to take annie the bassett out, and i was struck by the beauty of the morning– a may morning always reminds me of sleeping in the grass when i was a wayward teen– it’s a beautiful feeling and yet as an older adult i realize that it’s also a good way to get a chest cold– the following poem came from the experience when i returned to my bed and except for the fact that it reminds me of a james blunt song i am pretty pleased with it– some poems take years and some like this one are givens–
0630 051607 abbey lane
beautiful morning
outside my window
i’m so glad to see you
i guess i should thank the dog
the mornings sweet dew-lick
it tugs at my memories
sleeping in wet grass
a child on the lawn
has it been so long
like a sigh of acceptance
can i yet understand
what has come, what has gone
near the hundred acre wood
i greeted the sunlight
or was it really a rye field
was i really just lost
was i only a child
wanting to disturb your false semblance
as a fallen squire down
leaving hops on the lawn
beautiful morning
outside my window
i’m so glad to see you
once again, thank the dog
i have seen blue-birds in the area (although they don’t come to our home to often) but i have never seen an indigo bunting– i saw this one first in the grass and after several tries i finally got a picture of the bird– very skiddish and hard to photo, i settled for a picture through the screen window–
i hadn’t seen them yet this year (although kathleen had a sighting on the 5th) until one greeted me on the 10th at 6:30 am at the back-porch window as i was putting the dog out– there was no reason for it to be there but it appeared to be scolding me and i think it was letting me know “yes, we are here again this year– wake up and fill the feeders fool!!!”
note: click on the pictures for larger views–
remember to feed them and watch them awhile– they come and go so fast–
first full mowing of the lawn– we have a rider mower, but i like to get out and investigate each nook and cranny as a process of re-introduction– nothing i like better then to be wearing shorts, sneakers and a t-shirt and mindlessly walking back and forth– the smell of the cut grass does wonders for the spirit also–
