The Chair (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

Tears silently fall on cheeks so small
Memories flow as tales unfold
Satin caresses on aqua robes
Brown padded comfort as warm as hugs

Golden child who squeezes and purrs
Offering gifts of strings of pearls
Far more valued that rarest gold
Holding on to folds of love

Moving on means leaving behind
Tenderly held what once was mine
Never again with love once shared
Rocking in that old brown chair

Life of an Indie Artist (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

Drums pounding in my brain
Will I ever fall asleep again?
Plots simmer in my thoughts
Telling stories I’ve yet to write
Dreaming to be read like the books on my shelf

Music hammers all night long
Composing melodies and scheming rhymes
Verse and chorus climb the ridge
Leading me to the dreaded bridge
Thus is the life of an Indie Artist

Inside/Outside (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

On the outside where everything is fine
Smiles and happy faces reassuring others making them feel better
Halfway on the inside is okay, if not sublime
Sipping coffee, thinking pleasant thoughts of things that seldom matter

But look deep down on the inside where our true selves live
The self we try to deny
As we medicate with fibs
And cover up with lies

California girls must be happy no matter what
Even the cows are happy the dairy farmers claim
It’s a lifestyle and what makes California living amazingly great
Or so they say

The weather is beautiful and the beaches must be seen
Surfing, Coppertone tans, lying in the sand, heart filled with joy
Beach boys music rule like Big Kahuna kings
Riding swells with thrills as the surf slams the shore

But in the night when the truth fairies come out
Peeking into that corner in the darkness of the heart
When the world’s fake cheer quiets down
A still small voice can be heard

Gratitude abounds, let there be no doubt
The truth doesn’t deny the good in life
Feelings matter, you shouldn’t have to shout
The war between inside/outside creates the world’s strife

Is This Love? (#poem #NaPoWriMo #lyrics)

I don’t know how to say what I mean
Whenever I’m around you
I feel myself blush and my cheeks grow hot
Whenever I’m near you
I can’t eat my salad when we meet for lunch
Sitting across from you

I dream of you late at night
I can’t keep my eyes off you when you’re in sight
Is this love?
Is this a crush?
Are we friends?
With benefits?

Time speeds by when we’re together
Be still my beating heart
Time slows to a painful crawl like an LA freeway
Whenever we’re apart
No more questions, now I know
These are the thoughts of a woman in love

The Little Things (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

The after shave, the men’s cologne on the medicine cabinet shelf
Suits and dresses sharing their adventures in the closet with belts
Bright desert sun nudging me awake with a kiss
Are some of the little things that no longer exist

Making coffee in the kitchen doesn’t bother me
I don’t make the coffee
Nor wine from a bottle in the wine cooler
Or two fingers of Dewars

It’s standing in front of the cupboard putting away the dishes
Leaning on the past, my heart making future wishes
Between dusk and dawn, the neon lights and starlit skies
Are some of the little things my psyche craves but cannot hide

Morning Sky (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

The morning sky streaks pink and orange stripes
While fragrant air steams from the earth
Water fowl tiptoes along the pond
I sip my coffee and peek through palm fronds

The rising sun blinds my sleepy eyes
The world awakens, early morning bikers swish good night
The quiet of the dawn disappears
Birds chirping, dogs walking, I mourn the loss and go inside

Waiting to Die (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

On this day of Easter when the Son gifts us life
Somebody is waiting for someone to die
The Native American chants by the fire
Drums beating stories where truth meets the liar

Sin does not exist we shout in the dark
Protesting songs on lyre and harp
Born with a body we claim to own
To use as we desire we gasp and we moan

Lessons we do not learn and history repeats
The next gen’s solution in tech it believes
Throw away yesterday and anything old
Reinvent everything and new is gold

One day in a lifetime all will betray
These gods that you fancied will blow away
Ghosts from the past look you in the eye
When they sit by your bedside waiting for you to die

Happy Easter, #NaPoWriMo, and #CampNaNo

Wow! So much happening on April 1st! And I didn’t even mention April Fool’s Day.

My first priority is Easter liturgy followed by an amazing brunch – details later on my other blog.

Then it’s my first poem for my first #NaPoWriMo and I might even work on a novel for #CampNaNo, although unofficially. Hubby signed up for a screenwriting challenge and I’m getting caught up in those exercises for my novel.

And then there’s sweet blessed music that pumps though my veins. I won’t be able to stay away.


#NaPoWriMo, #CampNanoWriMo, #LogicProX: Making Tough Choices

The closer it gets to April 1st, the more overwhelmed I am about trying to do CampNano (novel), NaPo (poems), and  LogicProX (music production) classes. It ain’t gonna happen. 🙂

Something’s gotta give and it’s going to be CampNano. Ouch! I have such mixed feelings about it. I’ve been trying to write both music and novels but, really, they use two different sides of the brain and it’s tough switching back and forth.

Oh sure, I sometimes see a scene and I’ll write it down and that’s fine. And sometimes writing is not only a much needed break but a break from so much technology. (Learning signal flow in Logic Pro reminds me of Mixed Signal Design Flow back at Cadence in the glory days so yes, I can do it eventually). But I don’t think I can sign up to officially pursue it all at once. Not really.

April is Writing Month (#NaPoWriMo #CampNaNoWriMo)

I’ve been gearing up for writing 30 poems in 30 days for #NaPoWriMo this April but I’ve just learned of #CampNaNoWriMo (April version of #NaNoWriMo–Novel Writing Month). Something has got to give! After #FAWM (February Album Writing Month), I’ve decided that perhaps I should give my ears a break and write a novel and poetry instead. I can gear back up for 50/90 (50 Songs in 90 Days) from July-October.

I’ve never been a fan of these writing challenges before but, somehow, where I am in life is leading me to loving them.

I’d just joined TAXI, I still have two months of NSAI membership, recently enrolled in a Logic Pro X Music Production class and got some new killer speakers, so I am feeling a bit guilty about putting music aside to focus on other writing. But, I tell myself, it’s only for one month. I still have time for 50/90, and I still have time for the TAXI Road Rally in November.

Let’s see how this year plays out.

Advent (#poem)

Her belly leaps with joy as he feels a mother’s love
And the presence, a promise of a loyal companion
A long ago story come down from above
And the reason for the season

Advent gives us hope in the midst of sin
The tragic results of a broken world
For we must repent before we can be forgiven
To do any less would negate the yes of a teen-aged girl

When a mother-to-be resists the gift
She inflicts a lifelong wound
When she cries every day, she creates a rift
One felt from within the womb

Whatever happens, we are not alone
Questions unanswered we hold in our hand
God is there and the light is shone
Someday, my child, we shall understand

Writing Cave (#poem)

Writers who write know what it means
To spend time in a writing cave
With people who don’t exist

Just knowing we do this
In the company of strangers
Helps us to sit our butt in chair and persist

All is not gloom, do not misunderstand
Those who choose and those who are chosen
One thing is clear, the writing life we cannot resist


A Young Girl’s Dreams (#poem)

A young girl dreams at ten or eleven
Of riches and fame, singing on stage
Elvis matinees and Beatlemania she starts writing songs of her own
She can see it now who she wants to be when fully grown

A young girl dreams at sweet sixteen strolling the streets in the city
A storefront window peeks her interest as she catches a glimpse in the mirror
The cradle beckons offering an inkling of what might become her future
Laughter, Love, a handsome man, a happily ever after

Looking back she wonders how she veered off track
Was it a lack of choice, the choices she made, or just circumstance
Whatever it was doesn’t matter now cuz there’s no going back
It wasn’t meant to be anyhow, not the dance she was meant to dance

So she picks up a guitar, a keyboard not far and she starts writing songs
Some dreams disappear and others appear
Revealing which were right and which were wrong
Following her heart all along

I Swore I Would Never Forget (#poem)

I swore I would never forget
What it was like to be young
To stay out late
To play loud music at the guard gate
Madonna, Cyndi Lauper and ‘girls just wanna have fun’

I swore I would never forget
What it was like to be a child
To wake up early
To play with my brother’s cars instead of dolls
Beatles and Elvis and ‘born to be wild’

I swore I would never forget
What it was like to feel desire and love
To risk it all
To be with the one I could not stop thinking of
A look, a touch, a ‘kiss is still a kiss,’ a sigh, a smile, and everything that makes life worthwhile

I swear I will never forget…

Pain (#poem)

Pain fills the earth like a landfill on the outskirts of town
You can hide it, deny it, dull it, or spin it around
Food, drink, plastic, sex, beauty, fame
Marketing and big business using us, making money off our name

As the pain lessens, the poems weaken
The good news is, there’s been some healing
We scratch our heads, we begin to wonder
How can I profit from my blunder?

If others take advantage, why shouldn’t I?
A book deal, record label, a business online
Go for the numbers, that’s the big secret
Sell your soul, sell to the idiots


The Fool (#poem)

If a fool babbles like a baby, like a child gone wild, flaunting social conventions to speak the truth
Then I guess I’ve been in awe of a fool since the days of my youth
For the fool is the ultimate storyteller, risking it all to tell the tale only he can see
After all, it’s his POV

I never heard a song about a fool I didn’t like
One of those words we no longer hear, perhaps it’s unPC, when truth is considered unkind
Perhaps because today there is no right, there is no wrong
But that’s what made us survivors, that’s what made this country strong

Idiots will always be drawn to what’s being sold to the masses
These are not fools, there are clowns in sunglasses
The rest of us must idly stand by, holding our sides, shaking with laughter
The morons calling the fools names, as we are helpless to stop the latest disaster

Mothers & Daughters (#poem)

Mothers and daughters can love and can hate
The relationship can change from age to age
Some things remain the same and this is what the world knows
But only those in the know can know and this really blows

To be so close yet never know them at all
The facade they show their mother and at the Kingdom Hall
Years later a clue leads you to truth you resist
Nothing makes sense until you see through the Narcissist

These daughters of these mothers are their own special breed
For most of their life they’ve been down on one knee
Until this moment when they seize the day
Leaving behind chaos and walking away

Dear John (#poem)

I did not know you, no you were not the first man to break my heart
The sadness came when the other man, the one I knew first turned out not to be who he claimed to be
But once I knew you, I couldn’t understand how we’d been kept apart
Once I knew you, I couldn’t understand how you could walk away, once you knew me

She wrote you a letter with ink and a feather that started with “Dear John”
You were fighting a war so far from home, and she threw you over for another man
You got drunk on bad rum screaming about the stranger who stole your wife and baby – would it be a son?
But daughters need fathers and didn’t you think she’d grow up some day with a hole in her heart where you should have been?

She heard many stories of a tall handsome hero with charisma who sang and danced
She came looking for you with a heart you held in your hand
On the day that she met you she was too late to impress you for your heart to someone else it belonged
She sent you a letter with ink and a feather that started with “Dear John”

The Promised Land (#poem)

Tiny little towns lie in the Valley paved with gold
Pickup trucks and cowboy boots lined with filth
Rickety shacks and outdoor houses she didn’t have to choose
Coats catching fire, coffee burns or so I’ve been told

Two families from the same place take different paths to the Promised Land
One chose north, the other chose south, but it didn’t really matter
Picking fruit or Hollywoodland, mine chose the latter
I ended up with the one that was fake, but I played in the sand and got a nice tan

Too young to understand what true love is, it’s not for me to say
It’s not what I would have wanted for her, but others wouldn’t have changed a thing
It’s their version of the Promised Land of sun and Golden grain
Muscle beach, curly hair, eyes of blue, and a quick roll in the hay

They hold on tight to the lie he didn’t give her a ring
Those are the same who like to say I have no legitimate claim
This is about my life, I say, this is not some twisted game
Close to my heart for so very long, it’s my God-given dream

Another Kind of Freedom (#poem)

Getting your driver’s license when you turn 16
Some wanting it more than anything
I don’t know why I resisted
I surrendered when my mother insisted

Parents terrify you when you’re learning to drive
White-knuckled and buckled, praying to stay alive
I remember a story about a girl barely surviving
Those teen-age years with more worries than driving

The first time I solo’d in that blue Chevrolet
On Oregon back roads once we left L.A.
I knew then my first taste of real freedom
Cars would forever beckon like a beacon