Lyrics

Lyrics come to me by moonlight When the power of darkness lessens When whispers soften like overripe Mangoes dispatched hurriedly from India, On ramshackle East Indiamen vessels Sailing fruitfully through consternated Waters and heated lines of the tropics, Selling rewardingly on busy markets Charged with the power of buy-and-sell, And order-and-supply. I wonder how Bob would react to My girlfriend’s long and big, sexy hair Blowin’ in the wind, Seeking answers to horizon-tossed questions, When howling, racing gales accompany Frightened sorrel horses, newly freed from Spavins, and spiked by the energy of the sun, Hurtle home happily towards old and battered Picket fences newly mended? I write often under the spell of night rain, Striving much not to blend lyrics with poems, Which, like zucchini and cucumber, May look alike but are quite different. I stumble upon the fraternity between words And promises and splice them with soft, nimble Fingers of the piano. Gentle taps yonder come from happily sobbing congas. And with an unseen ensemble, a song is born.