Here’s how these things work in the ultra-connected world of blogging.
A couple of weeks ago I posted an audio video of my cousin’s 1968 recording of his song Heather Girl. Across the pond, fellow runner and music lover Saoirse listened to Heather Girl and asked if I had ever heard First Aid Kit. Good timing on her question. Yesterday they were on CBS This Morning.
Thanks, Saoirse.
tomorrow will come, and i’ll sing an old song
and think of the day, that the words came along
i didn’t know then, that song was my last
i didn’t know then, that time flies so fast
tomorrow will come, and i’ll look toward the sun
and remember the spring, when i went for a run
i didn’t know then, that it was my last
i didn’t know then, that time flies so fast.
so remember the day, of all that was good
when youth was forever, we’d play when we would
remember the day, of life with no fears
tomorrow is coming, and with it the tears
.
tomorrow will come, and i’ll think of my friend
and read all the words, that he took time to send
i didn’t know then, that they were his last
i didn’t know then, that time flies so fast
tomorrow will come, and i’ll hear her sweet voice
and laugh at her jokes, her spirit rejoice
i didn’t know then, that her smile was her last
i didn’t know then, that time flies so fast
so remember the day, of our one last good time
when I touched your face, and your hand held mine
remember the day, and when we would dance
for tomorrow is coming, leave nothing to chance
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
talk that is shocking with mocking and hawking
they say what they will, and neither one’s balking
cross over this line, i ain’t gonna blink
so much to lose, with war on the brink
minds that know all and know all to be
tell us what’s best, ‘cause we just can not see
your way is right, and there’s no other way
my voice must be silenced, i can’t even pray
.
so sing me a song
of the girl with the smile
whose laugh will stay with me
and linger a while
sing me a song
of our walk on the shore
i’ll think of her touch
and worry no more
.
fear that is chilling with a spirit unwilling
to stand for what’s right, and stop all the killing
the innocent too, will fall to their fate
because even the good, they must desecrate
hate that is righteous and noble and pure
just ‘cause you say it, does not reassure
love is a concept you can’t comprehend
and meek is a virtue that you won’t condescend
.
so sing me a song
of the girl with the smile
whose laugh will stay with me
and linger a while
sing me a song
of our walk on the shore
i’ll think of her touch
and worry no more
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
when you’re here
the world becomes so quiet
and we just can’t deny it
we’re meant for evermore
your voice
sounds like an angel choir
and takes me so much higher
than i ever could before
since you
found me
on that day
,
your touch
sends my heart to racing
when we are embracing
my feelings i can’t hide
please smile
and i’ll know that together
no storm we can not weather
if you’ll be by my side
since you
found me
on that day
,
so stay
we’ll laugh beneath the moonlight
and dance until the daylight
falls gently on your smile
we’ll live
and think not of tomorrow
when parting brings our sorrow
let’s love a little while
,
since you
found me
on that day
your love
is with me
every day
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
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
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
just look at what you’ve gone and done
when i see you roll those buns
hot bread baking in the oven
but it’s you, oh girl, that i’m lovin
your hair is pulled back in a net
there’s flour everywhere
you glance at me and knead 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
just look at what you’ve gone and done
when i see you roll those buns
hot bread baking in the oven
but it’s you, oh girl, that i’m lovin
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.
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.
Take Me Home, Country Roads, the signature hit of John Denver, was adopted by my home state, in part because of the first line of the song, Almost Heaven, West Virginia, but also because the spirit of the song is about coming home to the country roads we all love so much. West Virginians are scattered all over the world, but the mountains seem to have an irresistible pull that tells us we should have been home yesterday.
But let’s talk about the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah River. In truth, both of those geographic features, even though they cross the border into West Virginia, are better known as Virginia landmarks. But let’s call it the songwriter’s artistic license.
It’s easy to understand how the Blue Ridge Mountains could inspire Denver and his co-songwriters. It’s a relatively short drive from my home to the Blue Ridge Parkway, one of the most beautifully scenic highways in America.
Overlooks are everywhere. It’s an incredible sight to see the mountains fade into the horizon miles and miles away. Picturesque trees are works of art waiting to be painted. Rustic barns, quaint cottages, and chairs on the hillside make you want to slow down and take it all in. And at the end of every day is the perfect sunset.
Here’s another truth.
Though the Blue Ridge Mountains are part of Virginia, there are places just as spectacular all over West Virginia. So much so, that we tend to take them for granted. The sunset picture above could have been taken in my back yard. A mountain top view is minutes away. Babbling brooks and rivers winding through the forest are within an easy bike ride. It’s the stuff that inspires artists and poets.
Almost heaven, West Virginia.
He hopped a train out Quincy way
Rode with his brothers, to earn the pay
Stayed in the city, and worked all day
That’s how it was back then
And he’d do it all again
Just to spend his life with her.
.
She lived a ways on down the road
But went to town, to pay what’s owed
Ate lunch with pie, a la mode
At the big department store
She left there wanting more
Hoping he would come her way.
.
One day he rode the train past town
Jumped off the car when it slowed down
Hurt his leg when he hit the ground
And limped across the street
Saw a bench and had seat
And waited for the pain to fade.
.
The people gave him looks of scorn
His shirt was dirty, his pants were torn
They didn’t like him, he could have sworn
He held his eyes down low
Hoping it wouldn’t show
That he was just a kid from the sticks.
.
Down the way was the streetcar stop
Next to a tiny soda shop
He thought he just might get a pop
And then be on his way
Forget this maddening day
And go back to his home in the hills.
.
She was standing on the other side
Asking what he had in mind
He knew right then she’d be his bride
As crazy as it was
That’s just what true love does
Because their story had just begun.
.
What happened to you, you fall off the train?
You look to be in quite some pain
You kinda slow? Don’t have much brains?
At that he simply smiled
You’re wrong a country mile
I’m the sharpest man you’ll ever meet, today.
.
He bought a drink to quench his thirst
Not sure which was best, or which was worst
His bold approach was unrehearsed
He’d never met a girl like her
His mind was such a blur
But somehow, he’d make it work.
.
He found his wit, they were matched so well
He had fallen, to her spell
Her beauty, he couldn’t wait to tell
To all his friends back home
And he’d never be alone
It was just a matter of time.
.
They were wed for sixty years
Through the laughter and the tears
And then his greatest fear
She was gone in dawn’s first light
And lonely was the night
And his heart would never heal.
.
Now he’s left, he’s gone back home
Not to Quincy, not to be alone
No more trains, no more to roam
They’re walking side by side
Their love again his pride
Together evermore.
copyright 2017, joseph e bird
Someone once told me that he had broken up with his girlfriend and he was having a hard time getting over it. Except he said it like this:
Most of the time
I’m clear focused all around
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground
I can follow the path
I can read the sign
Stay right with it when the road unwinds
I can handle whatever
I stumble upon
I don’t even notice she’s gone
Most of the time.
That’s from Bob Dylan. His song, Most of the Time.
Larry Ellis had this to say about poets:
“A poet is a maker. A poet is someone who attempts to convey meaning and emotion through the creative use of language. A poet employs metaphor to spark the imagination and meter and rhyme to trigger the memory. Would we have understood – would we have “gotten” – the meaning of the Vietnam war – as the songwriters wanted us to get it – without the music and rhythm and rhyme of, for example Have You Ever Seen The Rain?”
It’s part of an essay that he wrote making the case that the prophets of old interpreted and proclaimed the meaning of events, and did so in a poetic language that would drive home their message (or God’s message) and be remembered. You can read the entire piece here.
Such a poet doesn’t look to the clouds to find inspiration in the ether. The poet has something to say and is deliberate in the choosing and placement of words.
The poet says, much like Bob Dylan or John Fogerty or Jeremiah:
“Listen. I have something you need to hear.”
this is exceptional songwriting.
Joseph E Bird 