Silly Bad Poetry Written By Me

Songs That Shouldn’t Have Been Written

When songs are written with a pen
And they these songs are sung again
But other ears are never asked
If sense is made of what was taked
And no one else can comprehend
This weird thought pattern that you penned
And what you wrote could never be
Understood by any you or me,
Well that is when the song you wrote
Should maybe have never left your boat.

Bad Dreams

Bad dreams come to the young
And they come to the old
They come to discourage rest from sleep
They bring you a mish mosh
Of unpleasand thoughts
They mix your fears with a glob of unease.

Sporting A Superlong Goatee

Nothing says I am a manly man
And not a goatlike man at all
Like a long goatee with shaven cheeks
As long as you are tall.

These wonders are great to behold
They scream “Please braid me now
Or trim me and I will look nice”
And it should be done somehow.

Fear of the Dark

Irrational Fears can often attack the mind.
Fears of hurt or pain or the color puce
But none is more common than the fear of dark
And nothing is of littler use.
For half our lives is lived in dark
And half in light as well
And where we can switch on a light for a bit
We can see that it always prevails.

On Running Away

When I was single and child-free, travel was my big escape. Once my cousin and I went on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. Often, I went alone the all of 30 minutes to Lake Michigan’s Tower Hill beach and wandered about. Once, I moved to Glendale, California with only one friend there, what fit into 2 suitcases and 2 carry-ons and started over. Often, I found hiking paths, mostly alone but once in a while with a good friend. Always it was to run away. Life overwhelmed me, I needed to be alone in nature or with a piano. A piano in nature would be ideal. 🙂 But once children came, I had to stay. Their well being trumps my desire to run. Yes, when overwhelmed, I still want to get away and be alone or with one good friend. That remains. Yes, I still want to be alone in nature or with a piano and would love a piano in nayure to this day, but my responsibility to raise these children trumps that. I just can not run anymore. I have very little alone time. Most people think that is a good thing but for me, being alone clears my moveractive brain and forcs my focus back to God and restores my mind, body and soul, which is quite off balance of late. So, I am working now on how to restore and revitalize my balance without my trusty escape run. It is forcing me to workout new brain cells that seem sluggish right now, but I am certain I will figure it out. In the meanwhile, I stay and do my work and force little goals to focus on. And when the kids are out of the house, I may yet hit the road with a roadtrip or fly to Hawaii a bit to visit good friends there. Who knows. But perseverance pays off in the long run and God does not give you a vision of beauty without allowing you that for hope at the right time. And I know a lot of people who ran away in the midst of everything, ran into a bottle, into drugs, into porn, into a new life or state or country. Many people I know and patients have told me stories and the common theme is regret. They regret their weakness in those moments that started them down a path of daily or even hourly running from crazy or stresses. These people lived years of regret when they realized they lost their kids while running from spouses. Life is a very fragile flower. It is easily shaken apart. It is easily missed. And I would rather run sometimes but I must and will stay because my children are my responsibility and need a mother present to teach them how to be grown ups later. Good ones. So children first and run later. And those worth running with will still be worth running with if worth anything at all.

Tickling the Ivories or Ode to Piano and Music

The absolute best thing in the world my mom taught me was how to play the piano. I could play and read music before I could read books well. Not always the best student, I readily admit, I often did not practice. But when it came time to perform, I nailed it and no one ever knew. Except me. And mom. But I digress. I loved playing, could play for hours at a time on a rainy or snowy day, wrote many many songs and loved hearing the music that came out of my emotions and thoughts of the moment. I was encouraged by my church and played for church. Music is a benefit to the soul and the body and mind. It was a gift of healing from God. Many years I left it alone because of no access to it with school (too many years of college) and work and life. One day I went to the music department and asked for special permission to use a practice room. Hadn’t played in years and had to try out for a college piano master teacher. I played a little piece I wrote and he offered me not only the practice room but also a position in his department teaching dynamics and original composition. I had to turn it down (like a sensible idiot) because I was in premed and had a full time PCA position at the hospital. But I felt confident again and started to play again when I could. Years passed, I tried out for a band at a church playing piano. Then I had access to the church piano anytime. A gorgeous grand, I loved going late at night and playing on it. Piano has always been my staple, my comfortable home wherever I have been. When nothing else made sense or when crazy became too crazy, piano was my outlet and calm. It was my friend I could turn to wherever I was for any reason or emotion. It was always also my saving grace link to my God, who I am so thankful provided music to my life. And when the kids came, I lost it again, having much to do until the last several years of being in bands at church and oldies rock and roll. I even got some of my classical pieces out the other day and was surprised I could play them, though a tad rusty. Piano is my home. Nothing is more perfect than standing or sitting behind those familiar keys, always beckoning me to play, always accepting of my successes and failures, the perfect way to express where my heart is, the love of my life. I think all musicians feel this way with their instrument of giftedness. So musicians speak in this language of mutual respect for this same deep bond of music we share. It is sacred and irrevocable. No one but a musician can truly get that aspect of another musician. They can try but never quite understand its importance. So, play on and rock on, my beautiful musician friends. And thank you, God, as always for music, a piano, the opportunity to play and a mom who started me on this path of no return.

Lessons from Art

The broadest brush has the least sensitivity.

The right art to make is what has voice to you.

There is a great deal of beauty in everything, you just have to look at it right.

Symmetry, balance, color and texture are invaluable to recognize beauty.

Your mind can fill in a lot of missing information.

Thirty sets of eyes see thirty different interpretations.

Never understimate the power of someone feeling understood because of your art.

Many things people underestimate can be beautiful together.

Making someone think is just as important as making them happy.

Perfection is impossible but imperfection can be perfect.

Sometimes the littlest things are the most important.

You must have something to say in order to convey that voice to another.

Age does not matter, vision does. Where that vision exists is different for everyone.

To be an artist is to be one who appreciates and mimics the Great Artist, God.

Art is never ever time wasted or money misspent.

The heart and soul whisper the important things and scream the generic ones.