The Lucky Lad

2010-03-11T12:43:00.002-05:00

THERE WAS rain this morning. Maybe more later. Warm temperatures, too; spring has come to Peanut Road. The pear tree is thick with blossoms. It will put on far more fruit than I have the time or desire to deal with.

The three larger peach trees are also blooming for the first time. I'll be pinching off all or most of the fruit this first year, though, to encourage their growth. One is only a seedling I started, the other two varietals I bought last year. I've three more seedlings in the ground but they'll need a couple more years before they flower and are more for ornament than fruit anyway.

In the mean time, lots of digging and weeding and watering in preparation for the rest of my nursery orders to arrive. I would have preferred to already have everything in the ground here but so it goes when dealing with companies shipping from the north. I made a last-minute order for elderberries to see if I could get some going here. Don't know yet where I'll put them!

Life is somewhat uneventful now. A little spring cleaning going on and a lot of time going into my mom's care. There's a need to launder soiled linens and clothes pretty much every day; I suppose I'll have to consider adult diapers for her soon. At this time I'm pretty much bathing and dressing her, getting her into and out of chairs, bed, onto the potty and so on. How much longer I can manage this on my own, I don't know, but having made it through the winter it should be a little easier to manage now.

Unfortunately, my nearby sister is having her own health problems right now so she can be of no assistance (unable to drive). Whether I'll be able to travel any later in the spring is quite up in the air at this time. Still hoping to make it to the Florida Folk Festival at the end of May.

Btw, the weekend before the festival, 'Mean' Mary will be having her CD release party, up in Kentucky of all places. She should have plenty of them to bring to White Springs, however!

2010-02-27T08:45:00.003-05:00

REASON

Having figured out
the reason for existence,
answered all life's questions,
what reason have I
to exist anymore?

Oh, of course...
ice cream!

Stephen Brooke ©2010

Totally light-weight foolishness, just for the sake of posting something. Not that ice cream isn't as good an excuse as any to keep going!

Speaking of 'going,' I don't suppose I'll be going to the Will McLean Festival in a couple weeks. It kind of sucks being tied down -- not that I regret being in this caregiver situation -- as this will make the third year in a row that I'll miss it, after attending for five years (I think) in a row. The fact that it's been moved back south to the Sertoma Ranch just makes it even less likely.

So I'll miss seeing my folkie friends again this year. Shoot, I haven't even been able to get a Sunday afternoon arranged to go see Lucky Mud do their radio program in Panama. Maybe some other festival or event in the next few months will be possible. Of course, I really, really, hope to get to the Florida Folk Festival at the end of May, at least for one day. Missed it the first time last year in a long time. Since I'd started going in '01 -- that's when I was introduced to the Fla folk scene by my then girlfriend.

And it's been nice knowing these people. From my first folkie friends, Bettina Makley and Raven Stands Alone, right on down to all those I've met, in 'real' life or on line, since then. Anyway, I'll make the effort to get to White Springs this year. After all, my niece, 'Mean Mary' James will be performing again which gives me an extra incentive.

edit: oops, I pushed a 9 instead of a zero when I wrote how lone I'd been going to the Fla Folk Fest. It was 2001, not 1991! In '91 I was busy moving from Naples to Steinhatchee and playing country music.

2010-02-18T15:22:00.002-05:00

IT MAY have snowed less than a week ago but spring is back and I'm busy planting stuff. The greens I put in are coming up -- I should get a crop or two off of them before they bolt in the hot weather. Which comes early here!

Added four more blueberries to my patch, doubling its size. They seem to have thrived last year so I have hopes for berries in another year or two. The patch is about as large as I need or have room for so I won't add more. Though they will, of course, spread on their own some. I wish I remembered what varieties I planted last year (and which are which).

Also added another five mulberries to the row I started last spring. These are along the back way in -- which is actually down the south side but it leads to the back. Put in the freebie ash trees the nursery sent me along the south lot line too. I've been trying to grow some of the native wild cherries from seed to put there but as long as I have the ashes I might as well try them out. I have another couple of mulberries of a different variety on order; they'll go up closer to the house, probably by the bulb bed.

I'm giving the hazelnuts another try too. Haven't had much success with them here in the past but we'll see. I'd love to hedge the back line with them. And there are more Robin Hood Roses and Firethorn and figs on order. And pots full of nandinas I've grown myself. Lots to do in the upcoming weeks!

2010-02-14T13:01:00.002-05:00

WHY WENCHES WANDER

Did you ever wonder
why wenches wander,
why they cast an eye
on some lubberly guy
as soon as a man's at sea?

They promise their love
to the heavens above,
so tell me how
they can break their vow
as soon as a man's at sea?

Oh, as soon as a man's at sea,
they're loose and fancy-free;
they don their finery
and shed it readily!
Tell me just what sort
enters another man's port
and lies there in the lee
as soon as a man's at sea!

Did you ever wonder
why wenches wander,
and why a ring
doesn't mean a thing
as soon as a man's at sea?

We're stuck on a ship
for a damn long trip,
so what can we do
if they're untrue
as soon as a man's at sea?

Stephen Brooke ©2010

I've toying with the idea of writing a musical (working title is 'Piratic') for a couple years and this is one of the song ideas (not polished at all and perhaps needing expansion) for it. I'm much further along on the musical side of it than I am to working out any sort of plot!

Not exactly Valentine's Day material and a tad misogynistic, too boot. But then they're pirates...what do you expect?

2010-02-12T19:05:00.007-05:00

SNOW DAY on Peanut Road

Florida snow is a pretty rare occurrence, even here in the Panhandle. I have seen only a few flakes since I left Ohio in '64 -- those were during the 'Storm of the Century' in 1993, down in Steinhatchee on the Big Bend Guld coast. Not much snow then but a pretty nasty (and deadly) weather event otherwise.

The forecast called for snow Friday morning and then it looked like it wasn't going to happen after all. But it did, it was just late! The rain started to turn to snow around 2:30 in the afternoon and tapered off into light rain by 4-ish. It may not have been much by the standards of folks up north but it certainly impressed us here.

Early on, a view from my front porch.

Really starting to come down now.

How many times in the past 70 years has there been snow on the roof of this old house?

Looking South across the fields.

And it's all over.

2010-02-11T16:27:00.001-05:00

CURE

There are no pills
for the fevers and chills,
the aches and the ills
of love.
No poultice, no potion,
no sweet soothing lotion
can calm the commotion
of love.

No medicine
can cure one when
he is or has been
in love.
For once you're a lover
you never recover,
you'll just have to suffer
in love.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

My customary light verse offering for Valentine's Day. I've had better ones, I know.

2010-02-11T09:52:00.002-05:00

It's life's illusions I recall; I really don't know life at all.

by Joni Mitchell from the song Both Sides, Now. I never liked that song. I felt the lyric rather naive and cliched -- even as a rather naive teen, myself. What she is terming illusions I would call facets of reality. Alternative descriptions. After all, we can only know things by how we perceive them, by the metaphors we create to order our world.

Illusion is, itself, an illusion. We attempt to tell ourselves this is real and this is illusion but it's all, ultimately, real. And all illusion, as well. The thing is to attempt to understand our perceptions, to recognize the meanings of the illusions -- the metaphors -- that make up life.

To create our own metaphors in an attempt to better understand, for we can never directly experience 'reality.' This is why we have art, literature, religion. It's why we have science and even accounting -- they're all ways of ordering our existence and experience.

So look at 'both sides' and recognize that you do know life (or clouds or love). Not all of it but this much, this illusion.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

2010-02-11T08:37:00.003-05:00

my feet hate shoes
they give 'em the blues
set my toes free
let them be
out in the open
that's what I'm hopin'!

And soon! I'm a board shorts and flip-flops sort of guy and I can't take much more winter. Even Florida winter -- though here in Baja Alabama aka the Florida Panhandle it's colder than the peninsula. There is actually snow forecast for tomorrow night. I'll have to make sure I take photos if it actually happens as this is an event that happens once every twenty years or so.

But hey, it's going on mid-February and spring will be on the way. I got my bulb garden dug and replanted and put in a crop of greens too. By the end of the month I should be planting trees and berries and such. All my nursery orders are in and will be arriving over the next month or so. (In fact the first arrived at my door today.)

2010-02-10T11:06:00.002-05:00

THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS

ref.
It's the lesser of two evils,
The smaller of two sins,
Fate has left us no way out,
No way we can win.
There will be no going back
To what's already been;
Let's choose the lesser of two evils,
So we can start again.

vs 1.
It may be wrong, it may be right,
Who could ever say?
Neither one of us can find
Any other way.
The only thing I know for sure
Is that I cannot stay,
And that there is still the hope
For a better day.

bridge
We have given all that we can give,
Let's take tomorrow's promises and live.

vs 2.
You and I have our regrets
But love will sometimes die;
All that really matters is
We gave it our best try.
No telling why we grew apart,
No point in asking why;
Just let me kiss you one more time
Then we'll say good bye.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

Parts of this song must go back 20 years or so, as lines or phrases I jotted down. I've dabbled at writing it as a 'commercial' country song over the years. By now, of course, a song of this sort probably no longer be commercial! Anyway, much of the refrain and first verse were written ten to fifteen years ago.

So I pulled it out last year and messed with it, on and off, since. I think it's about as done as it deserves to be. It would not necessarily be performed in the order shown here, what with instrumental sections, repeats and so on. Assuming it actually were performed. Assuming I finished the music. It's really not 'me' anymore, as a writer.

Except for the bridge, which I wrote this morning! :)

2010-02-04T10:23:00.003-05:00

a few philosophical meanderings:

If the existence of God is the only thing that gives existence meaning, what then gives meaning to the existence of God? Ultimately, existence must be justified by existence ; the purpose of being is to be.

Now, whether that is enough is the unanswerable question. Being and non-being, the infinite and nothingness -- those are our choices. On or off. To be or not not to be.

There, indeed, is the rub for, if we exist as part of the infinite, 'off' becomes unobtainable. That we do exist can not be changed. We are; that is that. Our fear (or desire?) should not be nonexistence -- complete death -- but the nonacceptance of our being, our not-becoming.

So we may accept or reject our existence yet we will exist, regardless. Should we not then embrace existence wholly? I mean not this, our everyday life, though that should be lived in its entirety as well (as much as possible, of course). I speak of accepting our eternal existence, accepting the fact that we always were and always will be, outside of time, outside of this universe, as part of the totality of being.

Which may and properly should be called God. The 'Word' (logos, which can mean 'idea' as much as word) that was with God is not only Jesus but all of being.

I know that fighting against existence, embracing nihilism and rebellion, can be an attractive proposition. We didn't ask to exist, after all, did we? There is a part of us that yearns to embrace nothingness and the final peace it offers. An empty offer, offered by emptiness.

We can always end this life, this phase of our being. What, though, is the point? One might as well wait for it to end on its own and live it in the mean time. The pain, the joy -- they mean nothing and they mean everything. They are who we are, insignificant specks in the infinite yet every bit as important as each other insignificant speck.

I make no pretense of knowledge as to what comes next. I know only, believe only, that existence is, was, will be, that we are a part of the eternal God, one of the infinite persons in which 'he' manifests.*

What better choice is there but to recognize the infinite within us rather than deny it? What better choice but to become our true selves, who we are and more than we are?

Stephen Brooke ©2010

*God, of course, encompasses all things (and more!) and is therefore he, she and it.

2010-02-01T12:44:00.001-05:00

CRIME

Your rhyme scheme
is a crime scene,
said the poetry police.
It's doggerel,
as you know well,
this activity must cease!
Please desist
and don't resist,
no, not another verse.
When write is wrong,
the right to song
only makes things worse!

Stephen Brooke ©2010

Hey, at least I'm writing something...

2010-01-31T13:31:00.003-05:00

I think it is wrong to make everything equidistant from the listener with too many mikes. The pasting-on effects end up like bad Photoshop work on graphics and photos -- too unbelievable. ~Tony Faulkner

Faulkner is a respected engineer of classical recordings and was referring here to orchestral music (incidentally, I'm not sure how verbatim the quote is -- I think it was someone's take on a recorded interview) but it applies to much of what we hear these days. The typical song on the radio is the aural equivalent of a photoshopped picture.

It's certainly a good thing that modern recording technology lets us 'fix' some things but, for the most part, I believe it is carried too far. Give me a little reality, please, and hold the autotune!

2010-01-30T08:17:00.003-05:00

WARNING: Steve should probably stick to poetry and gardening but sometimes I...don't. :)

When Obama's State of the Union address and Apple's iPad launch were scheduled for the same day, one of the writers over at Slate asked whether technology had become more important than politics. Well, I've some news for you: technology has always been more important than politics.

History is driven largely (entirely?) by economics. Which is a meaningless statement, in and of itself -- a bit like saying that illness is caused by disease. Though, at various times in various cultures, witchcraft and other causes were mistakenly blamed for illness.

Similarly have 'great men' and such been named as the movers of history. Great men (and, of course, women) may rise to the occasion but they are not the force behind it. They may shape history but it would all end up much the same if someone else were at the helm.

For it is the human race that makes history, not individuals. And what the human race is interested in is living. Yes, surviving is part but not all of that -- one might say that all the rest of living, i.e. the pursuit of happiness, is a support for survival. At any rate, we are driven by the need to feed, clothe, house and protect ourselves and our families.

That is, in essence, a matter of economics. Individual choices may be influenced by any number of factors but the choices of groups always come back to this one basic need. There have been many theories put forth to explain the mechanisms by which groups attempt to fill this need but they often seem wanting and/or simplistic. People do tend to like simplistic, which helps explain why Marx's class struggle theory caught on.

Not that it's particularly relevant to this discussion, anyway. People survive. People get better at surviving and survive longer and have more offspring. Getting better means better technology. Technology and economics are always deeply interconnected, forever symbiotic.

So technology is more important than politics, far more important. Always has been, always will be. Politicians, political parties and systems, whole countries, come and go. None of them are as important as the invention of the many tools that help us survive and prosper and even, sometimes, kill each other. They shape our lives, they shape our societies.

Universal health care/insurance may be an admirable political goal but is it anywhere near as important as the medical discoveries of Jenner, Salk, Pasteur? The birth of modern democracy in America was an event of major import but could it have happened without the thousands of technological advances that raised the wealth of the middle class in Western society?

The iPad is hardly an important technological advance so, perhaps, it was less important that day than the president's speech. It is part, however, of a very major and continued technological revolution that has touched everyone's life, no matter how isolated they may be. And this revolution -- as others before it -- will ultimately lead to political change as well. It will shape history.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

2010-01-27T08:25:00.003-05:00

IN MY continued and somewhat fitful program to organize my old songs, I came across this one I wrote about twenty years ago. Not really a very strong effort but it has its moments -- enough to consider doing something with it anyway.

THE FORGOTTEN FARM

In a hidden forest valley,
Where a reckless river ran,
Lay an untilled fertile farm
Belonging to a rich old man.

He would retire from the city,
Soon, he said, to work his farm;
And though it rarely will come true,
Such a dream can do no harm.

Remembering only what he wanted,
Not the toil nor being poor,
He'd plow the earth as his father taught
A restless boy, long years before.

He never wound up his affairs,
And never noticed how time creeps.
One day it took him by surprise --
Now he neither plants nor reaps.
Perhaps it's best for dreams are happier,
So much happier, when one sleeps.

Still the river runs unheeding,
Still the pines grow on the hills;
All men's dreams are soon forgotten
But men dream on and ever will.

Stephen Brooke ©1991, 2010

Although the date on my copy said I wrote it in '91, I think that is when I worked it up with a tune. The actual lyric, I'm pretty sure, is older and originally written as a poem.

On a completely different subject, I used to 'follow' other blogs, do the RSS thing and so on, but I've found that it is actually a lot simpler just to put all the pages that interest me in groups of tabs and open them up every day or two to see what's going on. So if I'm no longer on your list of followers or friends or such, that's the reason -- chances are I'm still visiting from time to time. :)

2010-01-26T13:05:00.003-05:00

PICKLE

I thought it would be a piece of cake,
as easy as pie, make no mistake,
but life is hard and fate is fickle --
now I'm in a pickle!
How did I end up where I am,
to get myself in such a jam?
Tried to change but I'm short a nickel
and now I'm in a pickle!

Oh, I'm in a pickle,
yes, I'm in a pickle;
I reached a fork in my rocky road
when my piece of the pie came a la mode,
I guess I reaped no more than I sowed --
yes, I'm in a pickle!

When he plants, each man supposes
everything will come up roses,
but those roses sure can prickle;
now I'm in a pickle!
I poured some chicken soup for my soul;
you came along and punched a hole.
Now it's slowed down to a trickle
and I'm in a pickle!

Oh, I'm in a pickle, etc

I sipped champagne till you burst my bubbles;
now I have a glass half-full of troubles.
It's all gone flat when it used to tickle;
now I'm in a pickle!
If life were just a bowl of cherries,
the apple of his eye is who a man marries;
but it's true, life can be fickle,
and I'm in a pickle!

Oh, I'm in a pickle, etc.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

Another somewhat silly song, albeit a bit more ambitious and crafted than the last I posted. There was a generic sort of tune going through my head as I wrote this but I may attempt to work up something with a tad greater originality. The idea, of course, was to play around with an array of cliched phrases. Btw, this is first-drafty and subject to change.

addendum: if some of this seems familiar, it's because I posted a poem last year using some of the same phrases and ideas.

2010-01-23T14:15:00.002-05:00

ANOTHER PERSON

You made me what I am today:
lonely and depressed;
The reason I turned out this way,
sad and over stressed.
You told me that you couldn't stay,
your needs were not addressed,
And ever since you went away
it must be confessed...

I'm another person
and not a worse'un,
I'm another person
yes I am!
I'm another person,
even stopped cursin' --
If you ever come back
you'll see I am!

Yes, my dear, I've really changed,
now my faults are few;
Or at least they're rearranged
and not so easy to view.
Don't look at me like I'm deranged,
I mean it, yes I do;
No reason for us to be estranged --
just pretend I'm someone new!

I'm another person,
I've been rehearsin'
To be a better person,
yes I have!
So won't you drop
that grudge you're nursin'
And if you come back,
you'll see I have!

Stephen Brooke ©2010

It's good to be creative again after a bit of a dry spell. Even if its just a silly song that might pass for one of Garrison Keillor's throwaways. I've played with a tune for it; maybe I'll finish it off after a while.

2010-01-23T12:25:00.002-05:00

THE SUMMER before I went into the first grade was when I first heard music on the radio or records that I can still recall. Before that, it's a blank though I remember a great deal of my life otherwise, right back to when I was two years old. No recorded music.

However, I do remember my sisters singing earlier than that. Grandfather's Clock. Rock a Bye Baby. When exactly those memories start, I'm not sure; only that they are part of the house where I lived from ages two to six.

We moved from that home in the summer of my sixth year. In the new house, where we remained less than a year, I can remember hearing Burl Ives. Indeed, I learned to crank up the record player and play the 45 of 'Little White Duck' over and over. From there on, lots of music is in my head. I learned to sing along with Art Carney on 'The Song of the Sewer.' Now there's an early influence for you.

And Kirk Douglas singing (sort of) 'Whale of a Tale' from Disney's '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.' Everly Brothers and Patsy Cline discs that belonged to my older siblings. More Burl Ives, such as 'Goober Peas.' Phil Harris!

So I certainly wasn't an early bloomer, music-wise, no toddler-with-an-instrument or anything like that. But then, there were no players in the family. Oh, Mom is a pretty decent pianist but went without one from her teens until her forties.

That was an important year for me, there on Diana Avenue. Yes, I started school, which I hated immediately and never changed my mind. I do not do well under other people's regimentation. Perhaps because I'm so thoroughly regimented on my own. I do like to do things my own way.

The year also held the earliest migraine I can recall. I've no doubt there were earlier ones, I just wasn't self-aware enough to understand and remember them. The same with my life-long insomnia. Life-long till I found an effective antidepressant. Effective against migraines, anyway.

I also recall, that summer, really getting into playing with my toy soldiers in the long sandy swale out front. Caves and ditches and walls and little men strung out over yards of terrain. I guess I was more interested in setting up the scenarios than actually putting my guys into action. Apparently, I spent hours out there talking to myself. Oh, I still do that, don't I?

What, I wonder, would I hear if I could eavesdrop on my six-year-old self? Would it be interesting or just nonsense? Knowing me, possibly both.

* * *

a short and somewhat silly poem:

MINORITY

Each of us is
a minority
of one.

Where is that
affirmative action
when we need it?

Stephen Brooke ©2010

* * *

It's the time of year to be looking at seed and nursery stock catalogs, making lists and getting ready to send orders! I should have my first in the mail in a week or two, probably to Vernon Barnes up in McMinnville TN. I've been ordering from them for years, as did my father before me. One of the few companies out there that still does business purely through a print catalog.

I'm thinking I'll go heavy on the hedges and ground cover this spring. Honeysuckles, more PG hydrangeas. Definitely some more blueberries -- I've four now and another four should give me just about the right size patch here. Well, I'd like more but there's only so much room. I may attempt some more mulberries too, continuing the row I set out last spring. Though I have figured out that it works better to get the trees in early fall and give them a couple months of slightly cooler and wetter weather rather than trying to start them in the (usually) dry spring here. Maybe I should just keep them in pots through the summer.

I dug up all the bulbs just before the cold spell and will replant them in a sunnier spot soon. They had been, mostly, in the somewhat shady bed in front of the porch. They'll go under my mom's window now. Lilies and Asian lilies and amaryllis. There are already cannas and day lilies there. I also used the cool weather (cool, ha, it was downright frigid) to transplant my roses, some still in pots since they came from Steinhatchee. More roses are something else I'm going to get but perhaps not till fall. That would be Robin Hoods or something similar for hedging.

2010-01-22T14:06:00.003-05:00

I DID not mention in the previous post my mishaps arising from the extra-cold (for Florida) recent weather. I just haven't been in that sort of cold since I was a kid and did not take proper precautions to protect myself while I was outside in the early morning, in the cold, in the wind, pumping and hauling water. The result? Mild frostbite on my right hand.

It's healing. Hurts as the dead skin cracks and flakes, naturally, but the fingers themselves are feeling a lot better and I can finger pick (more or less) the guitar again.

Speaking of guitar, I picked up some mono fishing line to experiment with stringing up the various instruments for less money. In particular, the ukulele-sized banjo. I won't call it a banjolele because it has five strings like a real banjo. I've never been fond of its feel with metal banjo strings so I'm going to try the nylon. Might try it on the classical guitars too, especially the old cheap Hondo. I've been wondering how a 'Nashville tuning' would sound on a classical. Might be a useful sort of noise...

2010-01-22T10:33:00.002-05:00

IT'S BEEN a quiet week at Peanut Road. Quiet a lot longer than a week, actually; just my daily routine of taking care of things as best I can. My mother continues to get along. She had a bit of an urinary infection last week but is past that now and about as good as can be expected. In the five years I cared for my father, I dealt with a lot of those infections. I do need to make sure she drinks enough and get some cranberry juice into her regularly.

Mom is not walking as well now. Definitely not up to shopping trips anymore so I have to get out to the grocery or wherever as the opportunity rises. Often in the middle of the night when she's asleep. Thank goodness for all-night Wal-marts (though whenever possible, I prefer to shop at the local Piggly-Wiggly or Winn-Dixie). It is true that her decreased mobility means I have to worry less about Mom wandering off if I'm not there to keep an eye on her. She never got further than the neighbors in her previous attempts to 'go home' or catch a street car.

On a completely different note, I've been downloading open-source software to play with. Open Office -- not an easy task getting that one with a slow and unreliable dial-up connection but I did manage it eventually. I'm not sure whether it's all that useful to me and probably no real advantage over using ordinary MS Works that comes on most PCs. The graphics program is, at best, a mediocre copy of Corel's Draw. I love Draw and have moved my copy from computer to computer over the past 9 years. I could see using the OO program if necessary, however. I'm more interested in the database and word processing. We'll see if they are a solution to maintaining a mailing list and such. Not that I need that business stuff right at the moment. Eventually!

Also downloaded and installed GIMP, which is a pretty decent Photo Shop-like graphics program. I'll probably take to using it since my copy of PhotoShop Elements won't work on anything newer than XP.

Once again moving things about in this place, starting with the music studio. Got rid of the old Kimball organ, which was not working very well anyway. Those old instruments are simply not worth fixing and no one really wants them when electronic keyboards are so inexpensive. There were a few mouse nests inside it. Stored pecans as well and a whole lot of mousy mess. I'm keeping the speakers and the spring reverb tank. Pulled what seems like a couple miles worth of wire out of it too. The rest is junk.

Having lived with the ceiling in there for while now, I've concluded that the system (plastic rails that attach directly to the beams) is not really acceptable. But I've learned what will work and can redo it one of these days. Not to mention the rest of the house.

It is looking good in there now, anyway. When I get things hooked back up and on shelves and so on, I'll try to take some pictures. And, of course, record some more.

2010-01-21T18:38:00.003-05:00

DOLPHINS

There were dolphins
and glow-in-the-dark
stars on the walls.
That and pink paint --
the room was bare,
empty of furniture,
empty of the girl
who had lived there,
who had watched the stars
slowly dim
as she fell into sleep.
Did she dream
of those dolphins,
leaping, playing
along a far-away shore?
Ah, did she dream
that she was with them,
one of them, and not
a very small girl
whose parents were losing
their home and each other?
How could I know?
All I have seen
is a pink room with dolphins
and glow-in-the-dark stars.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

There is such a room. It is in the house where I live. Now, it is my mother's bedroom but when we first arrived here it was empty of all but those little girl touches, the pink walls, the stars on the ceiling, the dolphin wallpaper border. I've wondered at times about the folks who lived here before we bought the place; all I know is the bank foreclosed on them. And their name, as mail still occasionally shows up in our box.

2010-01-21T13:38:00.002-05:00

ACT OF CONTRITION

Weary to the bone,
Sisyphus rolling his stone,
Unable to atone
For my sins.
Heart within my breast
Holds darkness unconfessed;
I can find no rest,
My world spins.

My act of contrition
Goes unsaid;
Pride remains,
All else is fled.
Place its crown
Upon my head;
It's all that's left,
It's all that's left.

All that I forgot
Haunts me in this place,
A land where I can not
Hide my face.
Each deed I have done
Renounced a state of grace,
Brought me here to run
My endless race.

My act of contrition
Still unsaid,
Heavy crown
Still on my head.
Make me king
Of the dead,
It's all that's left,
It's all that's left.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

You can call it a poem, should you wish; after all, a song lyric is a form of poetry. Much of the time, with my stuff, it may be hard to say where lyrics end and 'book poetry' begins but it would seem more obvious here. Have no idea whether I'll ever do anything with it.

2010-01-08T13:21:00.003-05:00

I wrote a bossa tune a few years ago and was never quite satisfied with the original lyric. So I wrote this -- it's nothing special but more suited to the song. Apparently, I no longer have a midi of the tune online nor do I keep much music on this computer so I can't link to it right now. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you how marvelous it is! ;)

addendum, 1/11: here is a simple midi file of the tune

EACH NIGHT

Each night she whispers
each of her secrets
To the silent
stars above;
She makes one wish
upon one star,
On the brightest
star, for love.

And the stars are
like shining bells,
Ringing, ringing
in the night.

Each night she listens
no one answers
From the silent
star-filled sky.
Some night, she knows,
if she believes,
Love will come
and she will fly.

And she will be
suddenly beautiful,
Singing, singing
in the night.

Each night she dreams
her prayers are answered
As all prayers
surely are.
And the night is now
suddenly beautiful
When she shines as
the brightest star.

Oh, the stars have
become shining bells,
Ringing, ringing
in the night.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

2010-01-08T09:48:00.003-05:00

WINTER'S PRISON

In the fields, the ibis feed,
like snow where snow never falls,
in the pastures where the shaggy
horses wait in timeless being.

Winter's prison has its walls,
grayer than the cold horizon,
closed as broken hearts are closed
to the hope of any Spring.

Such days are too short for hope;
I grow weary with the naming
of my losses. It is dusk
and their faces are the wind.

This, my cell, is bounded by
shadow bars the bare-branch trees
cast across the frosted windows,
fading, fading into night.

Dawn comes cold, yet there will be
sun, a memory of dream.
I, too, wait, forgetting time,
knowing only winter's prison.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

At last, a poem. First of the new year but not very new, style and attitude-wise, eh? Oh well, this weather makes me even gloomier than normal. Laid out in that Hiawatha/Kalevala trochaic tetrameter, which may not be the best for the mood here but I wanted that 'trudging forward' feel.

I'm experiencing the worst/longest spell of really cold weather since moving to Peanut Road (This is my fourth winter here) and I'm hoping it will not be repeated! The references in the first stanza are stuff I've observed driving up the road (have to get groceries at the Pig up in Graceville now and again) -- there are several pastures with horses north of here (one pretty fancy equestrian place) and, yes, the horses are looking a bit like wooly mammoths right now. There have been large flocks of white ibis in the fields. When I was a kid, the local crackers (in southern Florida) called them 'curlew' and claimed they were good eating. Never tried one and don't intend to!

2009-12-21T19:11:00.002-05:00

FAST AWAY the old year passes and I haven't much to say about it. Some things happened and more things didn't happen. Things are like that.

I'm not accomplishing a whole lot at the moment, other than taking care of business (so to speak). Perhaps that's enough. Creativity is at a definite ebb but I try to fit the occasional moment in, even if it's no more than strumming sambas on the classical guitar. My musical mind is in that sort of place at this time. Maybe looking for a bit of escapism in the music?

Speaking of music, my talented niece, 'Mean Mary' James just got her acceptance for performing at the Florida Folk Festival this coming May. She'll be a solo act again, as last year. Mary will be moving up to a Saturday evening slot this year -- must've impressed somebody.

Who knows whether I'll have a chance to attend. Hated missing for the first time in many years in 2009. Not to mention passing again on Willfest and even missing the Tuskegee Christmas concert this year. I recognize however that none of these things are truly important; I am acting according to my own priorities and have no regrets.

So I'll wish any and all readers and friends a Merry Christmas and offer my wishes for a good new year. It's not by accident that we celebrate the birth of Jesus at the turning of the year and the rebirth of our hopes. Today is the solstice, after all; there will be a little less darkness from this day on. :)

2009-12-11T14:47:00.002-05:00

FOR THE FIRST time, I decided to set out my grandparents' Hummel nativity set. It's a complete, mint condition, early 50s set so it's worth a bit, I reckon, though I don't know quite how much (and am a bit afraid to find out!).

My mom's cognitive abilities continue to decline -- I suspect this will be the last Christmas I have her here with me and wanted to set these out for her sake. Perhaps pointless, as I remember them well from when I was a small child but she does not recall them at all. None the less, I want to make the holiday as nice as possible. Every ornament I own is on the tree!

Eventually this Hummel set will probably pass on to some other family member. I doubt that I will ever display it again myself.

I haven't been getting much accomplished lately, other than maintaining things around here. Not much writing. Hard to get myself going in the studio (either studio, art or recording) too. I don't know if I'll get a song or two ready for the Willfest competition this year -- had a couple picked out but time is slipping away. Oh well, I'd probably be about as successful as in past years anyway.