Rock and roll
Get ready to go
Living on the farm
Just east of
South Bend, IN
The nights we pull
Playing bass going low
Making coffee with the morning
Singing songs
All heard and warming
92 degrees
No sight of water or seas
Here in Indiana
Summers warming up
On the farm
Living just off the cusp
Goodbye to a great
Such beauty and grace
With one stroke of the hand made
Painting pictures of words
On a blank page
Homage and prayers
Thoughts and emotions
Go out to Maya Angelou
As she swims her way
Into the eternal ocean
All poets or writers aspire
To live life full
Full of inspiration
Admiration
Creation
To walk in footsteps that have gone before
Do homage to her craft
From one poem or a simple draft
We lost an eternal light in our short lives
But we are thankful for what she had
What she shared
She made us better
She cared
Inspiration she has set on fire
The more you create
The more you desire
I hope to be 1/10th of the person she was
I send a message out to sea
To Maya her love and example
Set us all a bit more
Free
Coffee and smoked salmon
Lingers in my mouth
I reach for the ignition of my car
Live lived with the simple pleasures
The caffeine
Protein
Keep me alive
Awake
For trips near and far
Reminiscent and familiar
I have learned each city
By the letters that spell the name
Some far off distant
Others very much the same
The dash must be 108
Indiana summer feels so hot today
The leather scorching to touch
I grab my seat belt
Roasted in the reflecting sun
I quickly pull my hand back
Take a deep breathe
Very close to home
Yet ever far away
As the sweat drips down my face
This Memorial Day
Transience the commonplace
It is the norm
In Brooklyn streets
Where people swarm
On Saturday night
Sunday evenings
We take part in these traditions
Going
Flowing
Rolling
As we make our way from place to place
Make our way out of Brooklyn
The next day
We will be back in Autumn soon
Under the NYC moon
Transient nights
Transient days
Transient travelers fill up
Fall out
And fill up again
We find ourselves amidst the flow
Going where the concrete goes
Back and forth
In between
We will miss the NYC scene
Pack up the luggage
Keep a straight face
Back on the road
A musicians pace
Don’t take anything too close
Keep a little distance from the heart
Getting all involved
Will only make this hard
Little words with great meaning
We have to keep on keeping
NYC away we go
Be back when autumn rolls
For another winter lays ahead
Summers gone in the Midwest
We make our way from Brooklyn
To South Bend and back again
Tours ahead
Songs to sing and play
We look forward to being back in Brooklyn
On a beautiful autumn day
The Santa Ana winds have picked up
On the east coast we have the
West in mind
Fires burning bright
Brightest in a long time
Broken spirits and hopes
Go out with our thoughts
Protecting homes
Thinking on LA in NY
A terrible fire season ahead
The winds picking up in every direction
It is our thoughts and prayers
We are a sendin’
The constant race
Of the human race
Coming face to face
With realities
Of what will Be
What will not be
Committed to a community
Of people breathing and sleeping
Communicating all sensations
Of creations
Temptations
Frustrations
Sharing with each other
The ideas of lovers
People hate
Other continue to love
We work well
On a Wednesday swell
Of the city
On the ground
In the NYC Town
The clock hands read the time
I search for subtleties and easy rhyme
Ideas created, lost, and forgotten
Are on my mind
Streets filled with afternoon light
Thoughts flow intermittent the skies
Rhetorical questions
Repetitious in their nature
Some thought will find me
Grab me
Then forgotten it has become
It is in my lazy procedure
I wrap my mind around signs
Posts, lamps, and lights
However I try to find
The original thought of mine
With no luck I proceed
To write new poems
Of unsung ideas
And forgotten seeds
–
I always seem to forget great ideas before I write them down. I seem to think that I can commit them to my failing memory – content with my attempts, then move on. Only to find out the next day, that those thoughts and inspirations have all but vanished. Leaving me at my desk looking for inspiration, so on some days my inspiration is the ideas lost among the other things in my life. Cheers and have a great day. ~N
I am happy to report
There are birds
In the trees of Brooklyn
Out the windows
Chirping at 6 AM
Heard through cracks
Walls and siding
Singing songs
All morning long
Happy little fellows
Outside the window
Just east of Manhattan
In the morning sun
In Brooklyn
Under the Empire sun
The city resets in the evening
Continual receiving
Thick lines run blurred into the night
The world centers herself
Around the NYC shelves
From Jackson Heights
To the Bushwick and Greenpoint
We held hands
As we felts our way
Through a city heralding a
Skyline
Heralding
The sun
We blink our eyes
Rub them dry
To see the Empire sun
Settle over the western sky
Over the east river
We await
Waiting
For yet another day
A Cup of Songwriting 