My Schizophrenic Soundtrack

** To close out NaPoWriMo, I had the thought to write a poem composed entirely of song titles. Now, understand that I only used song titles of music I actually listen to. They cross the spectrum of musical genres – hence, the title that I selected. For you music nerds (like me), I hope you recognize many of the tunes I have chosen. I will not disclose at this time the actual number of songs in my poem. Feel free to make a guess, though!

On another note, this month has been an amazing journey. I have become addicted to the process of writing something every day beyond my daily private journals. While I may not post something here every day in the future, I will be continuing to write poetry, prose, and fiction to share with you, my dear readers. Thank you for stopping by and letting me know that you were here. It has been an honor to share with you! Now – on with the poem…

I stand on the highway to hell and it sucks to be me.

In my life, I’ve been the best imitation of myself

But everywhere I go I find I’m better than I used to be.

I heard I was in town and turned a whiter shade of pale.

It’s not the same and I blame it on Kristofferson.

He went to Paris, livin’ on a prayer, and said forget you!

You’re outta your mind if you don’t express yourself

And go your own way.

I used to be the owner of a lonely heart,

But come Monday, I’m leaving on a jet plane.

I have two tickets to paradise.

We were born free, so let’s set fire to the rain.

Here we go – let’s dream on, my daydream believer!

Let’s grab time in a bottle and drink on it.

We can have one bourbon, one scotch, one beer,

And a tequila sunrise in Margaritaville.

After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere!

You’re somebody that I used to know, but I know better now.

There ain’t no other man, so I turn to you and nothing else matters.

All I need is you and a little afternoon delight just rolling in the deep.

The way that you love me has me addicted to love.

Come home to me, wild thing.

Let it be me at last.

Bring me to life – walk this way

And take me down by the lazy river.

Take it to the limit when the stars burn down

And marry me

Because my life would suck without you.

That’s the story of my life.

Broken Pieces of Me

** For Patrick

 

I never knew that it could be like this

It took 25 years to get to our first kiss

When we first met we were too young to know

All we had to learn, the paths we’d have to go

Who would’ve known that it would take

A Facebook threat and a bottle of Cake

Never thought I deserved a man like you

I wasn’t good enough, but you’ve changed my view

I love you enough that now I can see

You love the broken pieces of me.

Cello Haikus

**Clearly, my listening habits of late are bleeding over into my writing. Here’s hoping there are other cello lovers out there!

Classical cello

has a soothing and mellow

tone that calms the soul.

Metal cello rocks,

Making the heart race, building

to an ear-gasm!

A Chain of Creation

**We are less than a month away from the season 9 premiere of my favorite television series, So You Think You Can Dance. This is a good time for a look at the process of choreography and the poetry in motion that is dance…

Words are just the beginning.

A well-turned phrase

A superb metaphor or two

Strung together in rhythm

And sometimes rhyme

And a poem is born.

Poetry is just the beginning.

Lyrics overlay a catchy melody

Inventive harmonies and instrumentation

Composed with coordinating rhythm

Or sometimes syncopation

And a song is born.

A song is just the beginning

Music inspires athletic movement

Turns and lines strung together

Choreographed precisely

Or sometimes improvised

And a dance is born.

Solace Under a Tree

***Inspired by the daily prompt at http://www.napowrimo.net with apologies to – in order of appearance – Hardy, Yeats, Frost, Blake, Frost (again), Poe, Mansfield, and Wordsworth.

Image

Moving alone, bare-browed 

Bring me to the blasted oak 

Thereafter I sat me against a tree. 

My mother taught me underneath a tree,

“Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak.”

Thy soul shall find itself alone.

It is always there, singing most silently.

I sit upon this old grey stone and dream my time away. 

A Boy’s Mother

**This poem is dedicated to the memory of two moms lost in the past two days.

There is nothing more pure

Than a son’s love for his mother.

To him, she’s a woman

That is like no other.

She held him and fed him

And showered him with love.

In his mind there’s no doubt

She’s a gift from above.

God in His infinite

Wisdom has made

A woman whose love

Could never be swayed.

Through childhood skinned knees

And a teen’s broken heart,

She helped dry his tears,

Helped him make a fresh start.

She taught him the difference

Between right and wrong.

Through her example of gentleness

He learned to be strong.

She held on with grace

Until her very last breath,

And now this dear lady

Knows the secret of death.

She’ll still be there, though,

With her angel wings wide

Standing forever

By her dear son’s side.

She’ll hug him with breezes

And kiss him with rain.

He’ll thank God that finally

She’s no longer in pain.

He’ll walk proudly on

With his head held up high

And know he is still

The apple of her eye.