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I'm just another dude, I write songs and poems to express how I feel, I'm not the best but my poems and songs have deep …
Just an awkward girl
Potchefstroom, RSA
Poems
L B Sep 2016
Angel's Jukebox
L B
Sep 2016
Route 84 would not lend me
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight
Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape
Summer again
I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening
For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….
She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…
The queen will be safe here
from the rabble
The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
Among these lofty cliffs
Between the raging circuit of the tide
Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
Here lovers learn
the debt of love’s bad timing
“Drink ye all of it!”
--the potion that assigns our sorrow….
She will not sleep—
while I chew this gum-- GUM?
Roll down the window!
Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings
As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity
…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly
Their hands steady the wheel
the light of a star last night
Radio blazing at 75 mph
nonsense noise to chew gum by
Crackling political commentary
Static of distance and thick clouds
Invisible mountains blocking
Memories seeping through the cracks
coating the music in a film
I rub my eyes
watch myself punch alert buttons
But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight
Roll down the window
Watch the heat escape
Summer again
I am building a castle of ancient stones
pulverized by relentless tides
Dragged across maps by mastodons
and mammoth glaciers
The scouring hiss
the ocean sighs
Time has lulled these smoothly
rolling them in the softest hands of sand
and gels of life’s comings and goings
tenderly tumbling
in the millionth moonrise—
Time deposits them here
wet and glistening
For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather
Shoulders sun-burnt barely say
one week only,
one week of the fifty two
“It’s the time of the season…”
and daddies on the beach are watching….
She has chosen yet another stone
And the castle continues—
in oblivion to all but her legend…
The queen will be safe here
from the rabble
The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her
Among these lofty cliffs
Between the raging circuit of the tide
Here winds forbid the vengeful mob
Here lovers learn
the debt of love’s bad timing
“Drink ye all of it!”
--the potion that assigns our sorrow….
She will not sleep—
while I chew this gum-- GUM?
Roll down the window!
Angels escape with the heat
Waking me with the brush of their wings
As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank
And leans on the horn
Lights flashing
Rude rumbling under right tires
Tantrum of snow
In the draft of mass and velocity
…and the angels?
They’ve chosen another good one!
They must’ve liked the 80’s
Their wings slapping the windshield madly
Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult. I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.
Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania. Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home.
Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania. Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static.
Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxK3CcOQD8
Amy Smith
Jun 2013
We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth ‘neath a summer sky.
And all through the riotous ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
* *
At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’
Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived though the golden days.
I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.
Yet this I know – ‘twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
* *
I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.
But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea’s was cold.
As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.
For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.
And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
Pride was forgotten – I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
And so again ‘neath the summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
We plighted our troth ‘neath a summer sky.
And all through the riotous ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.
* *
At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: ‘No matter, his heart is warm.’
Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived though the golden days.
I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.
Yet this I know – ‘twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.
* *
I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.
But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.
Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea’s was cold.
As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.
For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.
And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.
And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.
Pride was forgotten – I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.
I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.
And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.
And so again ‘neath the summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox