I’ve always loved James Taylor’s lyrics. Such sweet poetry and such compelling music. I’m honored to live in the same times as this Master songwriter.
My uncle Mickey was one of the first men I met who was truly *gentle* with me and playful as I was. His hugs were so encompassing, like no danger or harm could reach me in his arms. All my childhood cares were swept away when I was with him and he made my soul rise up and catch fire. I thank God for his love, it was a wonderful gift to me and transformed my heart.
The magic of the dog.
I’ve never known a dog like Dozer. He amazes, amuses and inspires me. I thank God for him every time we embrace on my return home.
A poetic eulogy for my mother.
Lyrics by James Taylor
written by: Tommy Dunbar, Kyle Vincent; Lyrics © Bob-A-Lew Songs, Cohen and Cohen
A classic. Everyone should know this song.
— D.H. Lawrence
I’m not Byron but I, too, have loved a dog.
Lt. Commander Data’s ode to his cat.
Enya’s treatment of a Shaker hymn. I’ve always thought that “Come unto the Lord with a joyful noise” – sounds like something an infinite being would ask for!
Two poems from my pal Deb “DJ” Johnson
A wonderful plaint. Posting inspired by my friend George Seaton’s touching comments about John Guldaman. Amazing lyrics and incredible rendition by Beth Orton.
Thinking about all the loves I’ve had, how our lives twined around each other and how we changed each others path through life.
Tammi introduced me to Rascal Flatts and this song in particular. God does speak to us through music.
Music is so powerful. It crashes through any barrier we put up.
Many people say their mate ‘made them bloom’ – my dear wife Marilyn was much more ambitious. The vines of her work run throughout my life now.
I often hear it said that parents ‘…would give their child the moon and the stars…’ – my father did.
To all of you who have come to ‘sit awhile with me’ when it was the darkest, bless you. Your names are written in my deepest heart, not to be forgotten.
Lovely ode to element 6!
A WWII ballad that is simply amazing. I encourage you to find a recording of it – you’ll treasure it.
Recording of a little music box.
A poem I wrote for my second wife Marilyn after the death of her mother. It has double meaning for me now that she is gone as well. Thanks to my friend Libby Miller for the inspiration.
Screamingly funny twist on Casey at the Bat. From the comments at Wired.com’s live coverage of the Apple event “Jobs at the Bat” by Daren Gray (as largely thefted from Ernest Lawrence Thayer) . The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the older tech that day: The score stood ten to one against, with but one inning
by Van Morrisson Oh the mud splattered victims Have to pay out all along the ancient highway Torn between half truth and victimisation Fighting back with counter attacks It’s when that rough god goes riding When the rough god goes gliding And then rough god goes riding Riding on in I was flabbergasted by the
I am amazed when I look at you I see you smiling back at me it’s like all my dreams come true I am afraid if I lost you girl I’d fall through the cracks and lose my track in this crazy lonely world Sometimes it’s so hard to believe when the nights can be
(see video here) Down a back road Long, hot summer A couple kids runnin’ loose and wild He kissed her She said mister, Take an inch and I’ll give you a mile I ain’t here to do anything half-way Don’t give a damn what anyone might say I just wanna free fall for a while
My first to Tammi, who melted and redeemed my shattered ‘heart of gold’ as my oldest friend calls it. I thank God I am worthy of your love and have a chance to return it.
If I forget, Yet God remembers! If these hands of mine Cease from their clinging, yet the hands divine Hold me so firmly that I cannot fall; And if sometimes I am too tired to call For Him to help me, then He reads the prayer Unspoken in my heart, and lifts my care. I
With the help, I am sure, of Marilyn’s spirit, I climbed up out of the Valley of Death after our parting at the Gate. I still ache from the climb.
Sitting the Green Tortoise ballroom having breakfast and this came on the radio. I hear you Didibear. Tupelo Honey by Van Morrisson You can take all the tea in china Put it in a big brown bag for me Sail right around the seven oceans Drop it straight into the deep blue sea Shes as
Hat tip to DJCline. YouTube video (audio with image of record player) Pretty Ballerina by Left Banke I had a date with a pretty ballerina Her hair so brilliant that it hurt my eyes I asked her for this dance and then she obliged me Was I surprised, yeah Was I surprised, no not at
My dear friend Mary Pitt sent me this poem she wrote for her beloved husband. He too, has departed and this poem now has special meaning for me as well. Thank you Mumzee. Yet a While Walk with me yet a while, dear heart, The road is dark ahead I need
O Wife for my beloved Marilyn Bonita God did smile when we met happiest either had been yet Love had blossomed we both grew each made the other whole and new The wheel has turned and you’ve departed now I finish what we started I walk alone pain like a sun heart like a stone
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams Green Day I walk a lonely road The only one that I have ever known Don’t know where it goes But it’s home to me and I walk alone I walk this empty street On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams Where the city sleeps and I’m the only one and I
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated
by Edna St. Vincent Millay in 1917 All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked another way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line Of the horizon, thin and fine, Straight around till I was come
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. Edith Wharton, Vesalius in Zante US novelist (1862 – 1937) Note – everything in this photo is significant: The chalice holding the candle is one that’s been in Marilyn’s family for generations. The candle itself from the supply
Transcription from Ready to go e-Books free online books. Image of original monument inscription. Inscription on the monument of a newfoundland dog by Lord Byron at Newstead Abbey, November 30, 1808. Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues
I’m a geek. No apologies. Weird stuff gets stuck in my head. The StarTrek: The Next Generation episode “Family” featured Picard and his brother singing a French song together after fighting and then reconciling / drinking. The refrain was all I could remember: Auprès de ma blonde, qu’il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon… SO…
Inspired by this Requiem for VHS Come bear witness to the Flying Head No longer airborne M-wrapped for all eternity Cart him away add an adhesive let him seal the cases of the new media God DV or not DV it is no longer a question. Stop Eject Dispose Farewell VHS we shall rewind no
Squimmy 1989-2007 Beloved of Rebecca and David, departed this 20th day of January. Adopted as an orphan and cared for as family. I knew this sweet girl and mourn her passing. Bon voyage mon petite. I offer the following for her owners: Do not stand at my grave and weep Do not stand at my
For all youse punks.
There are many poems that speak to my heart – this is one that speaks often. The opening phrase is so hopeful, I can only think the author was divinely inspired.
My grandmother was the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She lived in Vandergrift, PA – a steeltown that subsequently struggled after WWII. Depression, war, house fire – life was NOT easy with three daughters after her husband collapsed and died on the steps of the steel plant after a sunday shift. She went on.
One of Robert Service’s greatest works, IMHO