Best Songster Poems
high in the forest
a little songster of songs
such sweet phrases and pauses
(chattering, rambling, warbling)
hops along branches
hidden in the canopy
a melody echoing . . .
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January 15, 2016
Poetry/Sedoka/The Songster
Copyright Protected, ID 16-9597-84-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
The lane gave way to the distant view
where trees and hedges now thinly grew
Tractor engine thumping nearer,seen
over Blackberry and Hawthorn,the reason was clearer
One lone man his labour long
I watched unseen as he broke into song
stopping the tractor to throw on the bales
was he oblivious to you hills and dales?
The panorama my breath it caught
yet his back was bent his head cared for naught
but to clear the hay while the sun was high
the breeze yet light and the meadow high
I moved from the stile as the brambles betrayed me
with his song growing sweeter closer to be
mistaken was I by his nonchalant caring
his arms were outstretched to the vista beyond.
A wave and a smile his song he was sharing
with this beautiful world
To which we belong
Brandy and Crème soda
Autumn summons us
Shoulder to shoulder
We know not
If we’re getting older
We are self confident soldiers
I give you the best
Of my brandy and Crème soda
March
Early and on we shall
Through these days of despair
Autumn prevails
Ways to soften
Whom could offer such a touch
A warm letter in the mail
Growing adolescents
A young man
The consequences that follow
A growing male
The turmoil that soothes us
Is growing ale
The spice that tips ginger
Snaps a small town singer
“I love you”
It’s going to be a long winter
Shall we withstand
This duration as centered
Look to no one
For flaws
seem to dissolve our mentors
Passion is Rum
Whiskey endures
cold nights and un-sober palms
A rapist telling me
“I love your mom”
A young harlet calling
“dear love come home”
A shelter
From where doubt comes
The city’s filth
Why it loves only my lungs
I’m good, I’m fine
Expressions in a glass of wine
Through these words
A strangers poetry
You and I
have become intertwined
I’m lost, I’m alone
I feel as though
I’ve become undone
Run, run, away and fast
On to no where, as orphans
We were found at last
Once Bob took a name that felt just right,
rolling easily on the tongue,
borrowed from a poet’s night-time beat,
before new songs were penned and sung.
No footnote was locked in a chest,
no shrine was planned, nor built—
This Bob just needed a better name that swung,
with the rhythm of hope, yet to be fulfilled.
Two Dylan's just loved the sound of words,
before their sense and meaning took shape,
that let language strut and bruise the air,
and rattle the bars of reason’s cage.
Before the listener's brains cottoned on
to what the Dylan's were thinking,
or to what the listeners made up themselves,
from the play and sound of the words.
Fans asked the Dylan's where their words came from.
Who slipped them the hidden locket key,
They shrugged, and said the words were born on the run.
They don’t belong to him, to you, to me.
For these Dylan's never bowed at any poets' feet,
nor knelt at any musician's door preempt—
They came, stood where songs and poetry meet,
and let language and rhythms become what fans adore.
So sleep on, dear folk, in your hushed-down towns,
let your secrets rock and roll on lilting tidal seas.
Let every dream of words tell you something,
even when it’s whispered to self, alone in your bed.
So Yeah! Sleep on, till the first light breaks through,
till the night rattles loose what it holds—
releasing the stories and songs waiting to unfold
from two bold Dylan's - Bard and Songster.
Let the words run free tonight.
Yeah, let those words run free.
It’s the sound before the sense, that's right!
No waiting for the consequences to be!
Oh, I love the sound of words.
Words that hum for you and me.
Yeah, words that hum for you and me.
'Twas a dreary morn at best
Veiled neath leaden clouds,
Job's patience it would test
To oust this morose shroud.
Sol bore unseeing eyes
Declining he to call,
Overhead, ashen skies
Dispersed their languid pall.
From this dismal, doleful day
There voiced a symphony,
Welcome solace came my way,
Eclipsing ennui.
Whatever reason to rejoice
He aired his sweet refrain,
Rapturous, in full voice
He sang, and sang again.
Ne'er a sweeter song I'd heard
Nor finer melodies,
God bless this joyous songster
His tidings, lifted me.