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Posts tagged ‘ferdinand the bull’

Music, sweet music

Although writing is near and dear to my heart, music is a huge part of who I am. So huge that I no longer have a television, and listen to music for entertainment rather than turning to visual media. Oh, I still watch a DVD now and then on my computer – lately I have been enthralled by Globe Trekker videos, dreaming of places I would love to travel to. But music is the medium that speaks to my soul, that can pull me in and cause me to dance or laugh or even cry at times. I even entertained the thought of changing professions at a time in my life, wanting to hang up my lab coat and find a place behind the mixing board in a recording studio, to go back to school to become a recording engineer. But I lacked the courage to make the big leap. And even though I am unafraid to live my dreams now, I really feel like entering into the music industry would have best been suited to me in my younger years – maybe next time around on this earth, perhaps? So I listen to my ever growing collection of music, which in these days of the Internet also includes Pandora and i-Tunes. My favorite shopping experience is buying new music, and not in a chain store but the local record stores in my city. And of course music has drifted into my writing, with poems and short stories written with a music theme. As I mentioned in a previous post, my favorite artist by far is Elliott Smith. His music touches me in a way that no other artist does, so much that I wrote a poem about his songwriting process, and another about his acclaimed shows, where he could mesmerize the audience with his lovely songs. So I share those here, and maybe it is a good time to listen to Either/Or, or maybe From a Basement on the Hill, or maybe Figure 8 – just some of the luscious melodies of Elliott Smith…

The Songwriter


He sits at a table

In the crowded bar

Away from all the people

Their voices a faded sound

He listens in his head

Sees the pictures in his mind

Like a dream come to life

He is Ferdinand the bull

Sitting under his cork tree

Taking it all in

But not in it at all

Thoughts play a movie

He writes the script

Scratching it out on a cocktail napkin

He slowly sips his drink

The crowd thins

The glass is empty

Words are stuffed into pockets

The songwriter moves on

At home he melds music

With the words

The process is complete

Picking up his guitar

He plays

Breathing life into the song

Their Friend


Every venue he plays

Becomes an intimate setting

As if he sits

With the audience

In their living room

He greets them with a shy “hello”

Then sits in the chair

The small man and his guitar

Swallowed up by the stage

He nervously picks at the guitar

And a song starts to emerge

The crowd cheers

Then a hush ensues

He holds them in the rapture of melody

The song ends

They cheer once more

A quickly spoken “thanks”

Is shared with his followers

They talk to him

Asking him questions

He politely answers

Someone shouts “I love you!”

“I love you too” he replies

And this exchange of love

Is what endears him to them

To every face in the crowd he is

Their friend who sings

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