When your tater tots grow up.

Week 3 songwriting prompt. This is a rough draft. I suppose you could call it not fully fried (oil or air).

Green Tea

 The song prompt was Green Tea.

Woke up this morning

Full title is Woke up this morning feeling like Bob Dylan. Song #2 of my write a song a week challenge. I used two writing prompts from friends: Woke up this morning -- and -- Living like Bob Dylan, which I misread as feeling like Bob Dylan. Not a professional recording. Not a professional song. But I had fun writing it.

Never Give Up

Listening to live music and heard the line "never give up. "  I'm not sure I agree with that as a blanket statement.

Never give up.

I don’t agree.

Sometimes it’s better to cut your losses

and walk away.

That’s not giving up on yourself,

It’s giving up on the situation,

It’s giving up on the person or people

who are holding you down,

It’s being smart.

It’s taking care of yourself.

It’s giving yourself a chance

to survive.

It’s giving yourself a chance

to succeed.

 

Saturday Music Observations

Saturday music

Listening to live music and thinking

I could do this,

just as well, maybe better.

“I could be you, you could be me,”

she just sang.

I was once told that my lyrics 

were too straight forward and trite,

not enough imagery and metaphor.

Compared to what I’m listening to,

my lyrics were interesting and had a hook.

But, that’s okay.

It’s good to experience live music,

see what’s out there.

Maybe learn a few tricks,

maybe get some inspiration.

Not everything I hear will hit me 

the way I want or need it to.

But it’s music.

It's a person sitting on a stool,

with a shiny black acoustic guitar,

singing originals,

telling the stories behind them.

Exposing her soul.

And i respect that,

whether I relate to the songs or not.

So I stay through the end of the set,

support a local independent business,

support a local musician,

support the community,

support the craft.

 

Here. I. Am.

 Here I am 

Here I am

again,

In a forced social setting,

My weekly attempt

to go to a group event,

Today it’s poetry

at a bookstore.

I can sit alone

near

people I don’t know.

Listen to a published poet,

Try to convince myself

to read one of my own

in the open mic

that will follow her fifteen minutes.

She’s reading from her latest book.

Bright yellow sticky notes 

match the book cover.

Should I or shouldn’t I?

Will I or won’t I?

She’s almost done.

There are five readers signed up

I’m not feeling it yet.

It.

The elusive it

The powerful it

That keeps me listening,

Thinking I could do this.

But I don’t.

Usually I don’t.

Ah, 

but, today

I did. 

Personal Religion - a Suite, #2

I Believe in Something

Personal Religion - a Suite, #1

I seem to be working on a series of songs and poems related to my religious beliefs. I suppose I'll get to the skeptical and cynical thoughts at some point.

#1 -- not finished yet, but close, I think.
I worship the trees, I worship the breeze,

I worship the moon and stars.

I worship the wind, I worship snow and rain,

I worship [being?] outside.

I sing to the clouds, I sing with the streams

I sing to the canyons, mountains, and plains.

I sing to myself, i sing to whoever is listening,

I sing because I can.

I listen to sermons, I listen to prayers,

I listen to white noise and silence.

I listen to learn, I listen to escape,

I listen to my heart.

I see, touch, taste, hear, feel, 

I no longer can smell.

I thank the earth, I thank the air,

I thank music for entering my soul.

I thank the people who have guided me,

I thank the people I would rather not follow.

I thank places I’ve been and the roads in between,

I thank.

I worship. 

I sing. 

I listen.

I am

alive.

Can I ask you a question

Not sure if this is a poem or flash fiction. Can it be both?

“Can I ask you a question,” she said

   “Of course.”

“Are you happy?”

   “Most of the time.

   How about you?”
“Some of the time.”

   “Ah. Do you want to talk to me about it?”

“Not right now.”

   “Okay. I'm willing to listen. And not talk unless you want me to.”

“I know. But not now. I've got to get ready for work.”

   “Can I just offer my little pearl of wisdom before you hang up?

   No one is happy all the time.

   The important thing is to recognize when you're unhappy

   and try to pull yourself out of it

   before you sink so low you feel stuck.

   That can be hard to do, but recognizing the issue is a big step. 

Try to use that momentum to

   start the next step.

   End of wisdom.

   I love you.”

“I love you, too. I've got to go.”

   “Bye. Hope work goes well tonight. Let's try to talk again when you get a chance.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Call ended.

Open Mic

Open Mic - Prose Only

Memoirs,

It’s all memoirs.

And now a short story,

part of a novel,

And it sounds like

(drum roll, please)

  a memoir!

  about a 4 year old blonde

  in a house with a mean mom

  big buxomed 

    (yes, that is the word that was used)

  housekeeper.

  And a cook.

  Fast forward and the girl is 14.

It’s a well written piece.

They were all well written 

and read well, too.

Well, well, well.

Prose.

Memoirs.

Pages of personal writing.

Introspective people

have a lot

to say.

A Secret not Shared

A secret not shared

 

If I share a secret

it will no longer be my private truth,

my story that only I know,

my reason for fearing or loving or running or clinging

my reason for being too passionate or too removed,

too, too, too 

much.

Sharing a secret will take it out of my control.

Instead of the secret consuming me

or fueling me,

It could be used by others

to help, hurt, analyze, explain,

whether I want them to or not.

But keeping a secret in

can be a burden,

And sometimes the burden becomes

too much.

Again,

too, too, too.

Secrets.

I have a few big ones

and many small ones.

The small ones aren’t really secrets,

they’re just things people don’t know

and I don’t care if they do.

It’s the big ones that 

cause trauma

and occasional drama,

sleepless nights

and solitary days.

I’ve got a secret.

I’ve got a few secrets.

So do you.

So does everyone.

I might have one I want to let out.

Do you?