It is with few words
I must strike down
The rhythm and the sound
Falling on fond ears
Restrained and freed
Recalling memories so new and old
with few words
I must paint many lines
So that a story can be told
Striking Words
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Tag Archives: nathan Hoff
3 Words
Bitter Styrofoam Celebrity
The High Sky
On a brisk walk under November skies
The weather cold dark and grey
How would one ever know
That one thousand pounds of weed
Was falling my way
One foot ahead of the other
Walking in a winter fashion
Passing others waving
Making no point to be an attraction
Snow gave way to firm concrete underneath
A light chatter of crackling snow and ice
Under my feet
I glance at the horizon
Just up enough to see
That a dark black object
Hurtling toward the earth
And me
I quicken my pace to a jog and clear the way
I now know something is falling
Falling right towards my direction
As it nears the ground
50 feet or so
I notice it is about 8 bags of so
They fall to the ground as haystacks tossed
I begin my decent to discover the fallen goods
There is no way that I could have truly understood
Here is 100 lbs of weed fallen from the sky above
Heavenly dank sent from the angels with love
Upon that day I reached a new level high
With the gifts I received
That fell from the sky
The Genius of Catch
If Not for Perfection
–
I wish not for perfection
Rather somewhere
At the intersection
Of preparation
And the continuation
Of ones course
–
The readiness is created
By all the time spent
Re-taking
Take after take
Just for one good virtuous shake
The artist prepares with good intent
Content on rehearsal
Frustrated with constraint
Holding the power to change
Is the key to arranging
The true masterpiece that lies within
–
The strokes fall smooth on the page
Many hours have been spent
To create this moment
In this perfect age
The feelings and the artistry dance
Upon the blank canvas
Creating great swaths of golden hues
No reason to overdue
Simple strokes and committed lines
Hours spent caressing this craft
To create a mindless illusion
The genius of catch
–
Illustrious moments turn to intricate delicacy
As the grand swaths revolve to small movement
This is where preparation meets commitment
Where the small lines have the greatest impact
No thought or stroke left un-in-tact
This creation flows from the mind
Through the heart and blood
To the muscles and fingertips
Out onto the canvas
–
So what was once within
Can be seen without
Having to speak or convey
The image left upon the page
The true masterpiece
A Mouth Full of Iron
Just because I am broke
Does not mean that I am broken
–
The heart broken
Knows the languish for success
–
This languish can only be known
Through heartbreak and distress
–
The world around me spins
Yet I have to catch my druthers
–
In a life that is given
One must learn to rely on others
–
But that bitter irony
Creates a burn in ones mouth
–
Leaning on hopes of easier roads
Leaves the heart less than whole
–
Rust collects on the resting
One must move so no dust can begin collecting
–
Subdued Indiana terrain
Toughened the skin with winter pain
–
A mouth full of iron
Cracked on all sides
–
Makes me wonder
Whats is the next curve in life
–
What awaits
What gives what takes
–
Yet
–
Just Just because I am broke
Does not mean that I am broken
Rooftop Friday
Rooftop Friday nights
Pressed linens and evening skylights
Skyline fading in the backdrop
Of this terrace rooftop
Music plays gentle melodies
Clouds block out burning light
My guitar sits waiting for a new tune
Played well into the evening night
Breeze passes on my left cheek
Sunlight wrapping around flowers and pillars alike
Chairs waiting for the party to begin
Breaking out and summers in
Flowers push up from soil life giving
Trees fall soft on distant ground
Giving life to the view from above
Green and golden a generous view
A tower and a dome rest to the north
Towering over trees confident exuberant
Bricks filled solid and firm
Prepared for years of life
Holding the structure to the ground
On a Friday night on a rooftop
Eyes see what I have not seen
In a way I have never seen
As the night wanes on
Fall asleep until that morning dawn
The Sweet Smell of Rejection
Nothing like the sweet smell of rejection in the morning
To receive the call an early warning
Its not the right fit but I wish you the best
But if you had to receive a grade you failed the test
Refreshed I see it in a morning sigh
No more than a simple rejuvenating sign
That more must be done to push forward
No looking back or retracting your hand
Giving my best out there I cannot look back
The evening lines have been drawn in the sand
Take a breath and begin again
This will seem to happen every now and again
I take it as a compliment
That the successful plans have been laid
I will not give into some cheap demands
To jump at their will fall upon their command
People look for something to fill their own void
All the while they hold stiff while creativity is destroyed
Looking for something to replace the old
Will make the fillers seem out of place and cold
Wet and waiting on the driveway of replacement
Taking what just comes along seems way to complacent
They want someone who will fit the mold
Casting away the unique and the wanderers
The fearless and the bold
For someone who does not mind to grow mold
Upon their creative gears and will simply listen to their peers
Me that I am not and surely never will be
What will ever become of me I guess I will wait and see
As for now I am content on my bed of worthlessness
It does not fear me to be alone out here calling
Much better than rich and my creative mind mauling me
I recluse back to come back stronger
Eager to fight again
Rejection is nothing more
Than a reason to start again
The Daily Routine
Ah the challenge of keeping creativity alive in my life. As I am pulled to try and sell the art and the creations that have already occurred. It is hard sometimes to step back and try and let the creative juices be heard. So I sat down to try and document my daily routine of keeping creativity alive in my life. So here it is – enjoy!
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The daily routine
Wake up in the morning
Make sure to exercise
Work out the arms and the thighs
Get back and get cleaned up
Got to write and practice
Keep the routine up
3 or four hours later
I now sit at the compu-tater
Life’s lines complex yet defined
I make this no place to wine
Letting go on paper what must be done
Seemed like a good idea
Challenging and fun
Poems must be constructed daily
This challenges what I have to say
About beauty, art, and the progress of today
The challenge is not to conform
But to set a new aggressive norm
Creativity must be engaged often
Or else the course muscles will soften
Decay and leave your soul
Looking for someone else to enroll
The creative spirit can be fleeting and gone
So I must capture these spirits in songs
Poems, writings, and other means
Or else I will be left with nothing
Creativity gone and no job to boot
I look pretty bad now in a business suit
Full of aspirations are these writings
Even though my mind is rattled with distractions
I must be real and stay ahead
Better off here trying
Than creativity dead
Long Days and Unpaid Bills
Long days and unpaid bills
Winters long and summer thrills
Get laid off find a new job
Find the hustle to make ends meet
I will never sit in the CEO seat
But this hustle has a beat
A beat that keeps my feet moving
Put some food on the table
Waiting for news
Information I could really use
The days slip through my fingers
All everyone sits around and debates
Whether the songs written
Have what it takes
To pay the health insurance
To give my life a little assurance
Is that all I sought?
a fish swimming through life
In the net of capitalism caught
The Old Car
The old car is still hanging in
making it through Winter’s thick and Summers thin
The AC rattles
the carpets are worn out
But the motor still delivers me to the destination
very devout
The weather is broken in
The locks don’t work and haven’t for days
The radio still sings out a couple of melodies
But when the wheels struggle up the hill it gets my sympathy
on a warm day in June
When the engine is ringing out
In it’s classic tune
Bellowing out like a great monsoon
This is my car and I stand by it
Even though the dollars I’ve paid have been multiplying
But it is a true beauty and I ain’t lying That’s all I have to say about this your car
It’s taken me miles and miles afar
The dream alive when I get down
We’ve toured we’ve laughed we’ve cried
In this cabin we lived our lives
So this car I say cheers
I hope you may live on for years and years
A Cup of Songwriting 