Wings of an Eagle (#poem #lyrics)

My head silently screams through the night
When the long-awaited answer is nearly in sight
Wings of an eagle flap, ready to take flight

Nowhere to go, I must now stay
Running was the thing of another day
Understanding when absent, intuition leads the way

I must not fear, sleeping under God’s wings
The storyteller prays as the choir now sings
Artists and monks the truth must bring

Wings of an eagle carry the message
Laser-focused eyes encompass the ledge
Save me from falling teetering on the edge

 

Adventure on the High Seas (#poem)

Working on my third novel set aboard a cruise ship, and after tuning into last night’s CruiseTipsTV Live last night, I decided to write a poem about the call of the adventure on the high seas.

Dreaming of cruising on a luxury ship
Running for miles to reduce the hips
Preparing for months with low fat calories
Longing for adventure on the high seas

Shopping for swimsuits, bags, and nice dresses
Romantic strolls on decks, kisses and caresses
Tips, tricks, and vlogging the trip
Reading a novel about a girl who strips

Cocktails, Coppertone, and boys in cabanas
Lovers and places once forbidden like Havana
Snorkeling, parasailing, and boats like bananas
Lift me from despair to cries of Hosanna

Tequila, Take Me Home

I wrote this song when we were living in Florida. We were having lunch at La Fiesta, the most Southern California Mexican restaurant in the New Smyrna Beach/Daytona area and I was soaking up the atmosphere, the Mexican music, and the “Mexican Margarita,” as they called it. It was my favorite, if not a bit strong.

A Native Californian, I was so homesick for the West Coast so I took a drink and said, “Tequila, Take Me Home.” That became a song.

So when Taxi A&R had a listing for “drinking songs,” I submitted it. Well, it was not forwarded. But after last night’s episode where they played many of the submissions and we got to vote +1 or -1 as to whether we thought it should be forwarded, I realized my mistake. It was not a “drinking song” in the real meaning of that. It was more of a homesick song – lol!

I have a couple of other drinking songs that would have been more appropriate but they need some work. But it might be good to do the work now because you never know when they might just have another call for that kind of song.

Dark Night of the Soul (#poem)

If life were a novel, then this is the “all is lost” moment
Feeling helpless, feeling the losses
Looking forward, looking back, all that is seen seems broken
So weary of carrying the crosses

Reaching out to friends is a crap shoot
Strangers in line sharing their stories
Cloaked in pain, seemingly destitute
It’s time to take inventory

What is God trying to teach me?
I’m failing to learn the lesson
Is it physical or things I’ve come to believe
Leaning on the things I’ve found success in

The Dark Night of the Soul is a lonely place
The breakthrough is just around the corner
Waiting, waiting, waiting, feeling disgrace
Compassion for my fellow sojourners

Kristopher (#poem)

Kristopher I call you today
Are you the one or is it Kristy?
Not if the little boy who went away
Sweet, loving, and kissy
Was really you in disguise
Would my love have been a lie?

To heal a broken heart, they say
Is not to bury you, but to give you a name
To keep alive since that day
You were identified by your grave
And so today I call you Kristopher
Until we meet in the ever after

Lent (#poem)

Lent can be the most hellacious time of year
One that started for me on Halloween
Filled with hope and trust soon turned into fear
Like the never ending Groundhog Day on the Silver Screen

I’m somewhat new at this kind of belief
One day was like another when I was a child
Watching the neighbors go to church on their knees
Admiring their place in a world run wild

Stories of Missions and Father Junipero Serra
Catholics, Protestants and even Jewish girls
So common yet part of the forbidden era
Were precious to me like a necklace of pearls

The world throws away its treasures from the past
Putting baby in the corner on a stage so round
Now invited to partake of the bread in the Mass
When once I was lost and now I am found

I’m reminded of a miracle when it’s three days late
The timing is perfect you see looking back
The pain and the suffering in the moment so great
Easter Sunrise conquers the nights so black

 

Worship in the Waiting (#poem)

Worship in the waiting they say
These words I recall lying awake
Writing, singing, working all day
Are distractions I welcome but only delay
The peace to panic transition the nighttime obeys

We’re not alone in our fears
In our struggles and overflowing tears
When our strength seems to disappear
When we’re down on our knees
Begging please please

Like writers writing fiction
Seeking love, loss, and friction
Musicians share their heart and their stories
Waiting forlornly
For answers that give Him the glory

Remember the truth and the blessings
In trials, tribulations, and second guessing
As Mary pondered the love of her life
After Good Friday comes the Easter Sunrise
Worship in the waiting conquers the fear in the lie

Identity (#poem)

IDENTITY

Growing up as Kathy B
Who I was I could not see
Searching for the one who made me
Was all about my identity

When my brother-in-law, who has a close relationship with his adopted daughter, visited us in Florida last fall, we talked about how similar her issues are with mine, as a result of growing up with a step dad instead of my own dad. There’s much confusion out there about our motives to find our bio parents, but, in the end, it’s all about finding out who you are and who you came from.

Red Tiled Roof (poem)

Rat-a-tat-tat Rat-a-tat-tat
Rhythm of the drum of an ally cat
Clippity clop of a horse’s hoof
Rainy night on a red-tiled roof

Drip drip drip sings the rain
So unusual on the desert plain
This time home is more of a stranger
It feels so temporary, so full of danger

Where did it go just last year
It’s gone for good is the deepest fear
Three thousand miles more or less
Hurrying back to cross the abyss

Writing songs up all night
About home and loss and other frights
Night time writing so aloof
Recognizing only the red-tiled roof

When the Muse Calls…

So much for all of that bravado about how music always trumps writing fiction. Ha!

Here’s what happened… I had an amazing songwriting day yesterday. I couldn’t wait to hit the studio this morning and start banging out more songs. I did a little keyboard practice. I did some vocal warmup. And then I listened to yesterday’s song. It sucked! I got scared. I felt so intimidated. The imposter syndrome struck. So what’s a girl to do?

Pull out my favorite manuscript in progress and start writing? That’s what stopped me the day before, when I decided I should focus on music – not writing. So I pulled up a different manuscript. Perhaps the muse wants me to work on that one today.

Okay, so maybe I won’t really know who wins until I’ve done enough work that something crosses the finish line. Maybe that’s how the muse works and I should just obey the muse when it strikes.

How about you?