Joseph E Bird

Let's talk about reading, writing and the arts.



the girl from the bakery

tripping down the sidewalk
in the lower part of town
going to the guitar store
my e-string’s come unwound

a tune is humming in my head
for words i’ve yet to write
and then i see you through the glass
all dressed in bakers white

ohhh mercy sakes alive
look what you’ve gone and done
my breathing don’t come easy
when i see you making buns

i slow my steps and strain to look
without giving it a thought
i see you, and you see me
i know that i’ve been caught

maybe i should walk on by
be a gentleman this day
the heck with that, i’ll take a chance
this boy, he came to play

ohhh mercy sakes alive
you be messing with my head
i don’t think i can stand it
when I see you knead the bread

your hair is pulled back in a net
there’s flour everywhere
you glance at me and roll the dough
i barely take in air

you got that look that speaks to me
and yeah, i speak to you
together we can bake all day
have our cake, and it eat, too

ohhh mercy sakes alive
when the rolls comes from the oven
my legs are weak, can’t wait to eat,
but it’s you, oh girl, i’m lovin’

copyright 2017, joseph e bird

Editor’s Note: In his Noble Prize acceptance speech, Bob Dylan said his work is meant to be sung, that it’s not complete as a simple rhyming poem.  Same here with my so-called songs. Of course I ain’t no Robert Zimmerman, but I am, in fact, fooling around with music for these little ditties. Someday I may present them as fully imagined. Probably not, but you never know.

did you solve the riddle?

The other day I wrote about finding special moments throughout the day in piece called ninety nine miles.  At the end, while travelling back home, the narrator finally finds some relief as Scott sings, Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.  

Did you Google?  Did you figure it out?

Who is Scott?  Answer, Scott Avett, of course.

The song, Salina.  It starts out as just another nice Avett Brothers song about being away from home. Then near the end, the music takes on a symphonic quality.

Click the link and stay with it.  No video on this clip, just great music for a rainy Saturday night.

Do you know this guy?

You should. Well, if you care anything about music beyond the Top 40, you should.

Chris Thile (pronounced Theely). Mandolin virtuoso.

Started playing when he was 5. Formed Nickel Creek (not Nickelback) with Sean and Sara Watkins when he was 8. Signed a record deal when he was 12. One of his projects, Punch Brothers, is a real genre bender. He is now the host of A Prarie Home Companion.

A couple of videos won’t do him justice. Unbelievable player and genuine nice guy.


Here’s one when he was much younger playing at Floydfest.

And for the more sophisticated out there, how about some Bach.

You’re welcome.

Crazy cats, man.

No, not kittens. Crazy cool cats. So cool they don’t care that they look like a bunch of accountants. Not that’s there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are accountants. But they’re so square they’re cool. And they play that jazz, baby. They probably really talked liked that. They probably invented talk like that.

Take Five.

The Dave Brubeck Quartet.


Save this for last. Go ahead and read your other blogs. Get the latest news from your trusted sites. Check your emails. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Ready to do some work? A little music in the background?

If so, click the video below.

It starts with the cry of the clarinet. Trombones provide counterpoint. Then the horns (once referred to as French horns in the US). Then the muted trumpet. On and on it goes. In modern music presentation, the music and the musicians take a back seat to creating a mode or delivering a message. This video is a bit of a throwback to when it was all about the music.

And what great music it is. See where it takes you on your Monday morning (or evening, depending on where you are).

A young woman lies on the cobblestone.

A young woman
lies on the cobblestone.
Her body is twisted.
She is bleeding.
She has left us.

A young woman
is supposed to live.
And laugh.
And love.
No, not this.

Such a young woman.
Such a young woman.

Others have gone too soon.
A cousin.
A brother.
A son.
A mother.

A young woman
lies on the cobblestone.
Yesterday I saw her.
Today she is here.
She has left us.

copyright 2017, joseph e bird

A word of explanation.  The other day, I was listening to Dvorak’s Requiem while I was working at the office.  I was listening via YouTube, and whoever posted the video used the painting of the late nineteenth century German painter, Jakub Schikaneder as the sole image in the video.  It inspired this fourth poem in my Young Woman series.  The painting is called Murder in the House.  Yes, it’s disturbing.  Life is fragile.

another song

this is exceptional songwriting.

No Hard Feelings

I was listening to the Avett Brothers via Youtube yesterday and got to reading some of the comments about how their older work was better than their new stuff. Here’s one of their new ones. You be the judge.


Music of my day.

guitar 2-6-16 for web

Listening to the music of the Wonder to escape
Digging words and stories cause he always tell it straight
Life be scarred and dogs bite hard, to that I can relate
Soulful grooves, the spirit moves, tells me it ain’t too late

Driving horns lay down the tune, I’m hearing now the Tears
David Clayton Thomas sings, it’s not the dying that he fears
Spin the wheel, cut the deal, find wisdom in the years
Blues sung hard, and hope stands guard, a triumph for the ears

Singing with a nasal twang and tangled up in blue
The poet tells his story ‘bout the people that he knew
Stars are crossed and loves are lost, his heart we see straight through
A simple song to sing along, to change our point of view

A banjo picks the intro with a groovin’ upright bass
A nice and easy song of love, till the breakdown sets the pace
Toes are tapping, hands are clapping, the cello plays like grace
They sing of love and God above, our worries are erased

I play the C, I play the G, play the A chord in the minor
I write the words, scratch out a tune, plan it out like a designer
Find the truth, a touch of youth, up the beat to make it finer
But truth is cold, cause it ain’t gold, I know I ain’t no rhymer

Thank God for voice and stories told and those who came to play
The soft piano soothes the soul and carries us away
They give the beat and words complete, to speak what we can’t say
Turn it up and fill my cup, play the music of my day.

Copyright 2017, Joseph E Bird

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