As a big fan of music, poetry, and literature I find myself sometimes scribbling down a lil sumthin of my own every now an again. My inspirations at the present time usually show in my writings as this one I wrote up a couple hours ago was heavily influenced by the song Brown Eyed Woman and one Mr. Rick Danko:

Was not long ago when this town was young
They said the day he was born, he should die
Didn't take long enough to have a reason why
But sister said please in the most insisting way
No one mourned his loss but instead his stay

His father was liquor and his mum was despair
Lived on the edge of a broken chair
He didn't ask for this life but it fit him well
And she played the fiddle that kept him from hell

Not long after twelve he had killed a man
for casting a shadow where the young boy stand
She cried to the mayor and she cried to the judge
Must of been the tears that made them old men budge

The day was long and the sun was hot
Fourteen years old when he first got shot
Laughed at the Sherriff and spit the bullet out
Gutted the law man like a rainbow trout

His father was liquor and his mum was despair
Lived on the edge of a broken chair
He didn't ask for this life but it fit him well
And she played the fiddle that kept him from hell

He was hidin deep in Tennesee
When he heard she didn't have long to be
Wiped a tear from a dead mans eye
And made his way by the nights dark sky

His father was liquor and his mum was despair
Lived on the edge of a broken chair
He didn't ask for this life but it fit him well
And she played the fiddle that kept him from hell

Came into this town on the dark of night
And knew from the taste that things weren't just right
His hand hit the door as if to make that knock
But six shots later an the boy was dropped

She ran from the arms of the Deputy
Tryin not to believe what she just had seen
held him there in her arms as she cried
Healthy as the day she was born as he died

His father was liquor and his mum was despair
Lived on the edge of a broken chair
He didn't ask for this life but it fit him well
And she played the fiddle that kept him from hell

Love to hear your thoughts and see what everyone else ha goin on out there
Have a Grate Day!

Nice!

You might want to check out the history of the poetry thread.

This isn't my poem, but I came across this on a plaque in a beautiful little terraced park on the west side of Russian Hill in San Francisco. With views of the Golden Gate and the Bay in the background, it was truly a magical moment.

The Cool, Grey City of Love
Tho the dark be cold and blind,
Yet her sea-fog's touch is kind,
And her mightier caress
Is joy and the pain thereof;
And great is thy tenderness,
O cool, grey city of love!


By George Sterling, published 1920

This is actually just the last 6 lines of the poem.

Okay here goes, off the top of my of head so don't laugh too much:

Circling this mountaintop with what seems to be a start
of something so smooth and yet so remarkable
that it grows without a spark
I walk along the seashores
I dance beneath the waves
I cross over to the other side
Where darkness is a slave
Moments seems like hours and hours seem like days
Fires engulf the valleys and sets the world ablaze

.. that's all I could come up with for now..

captaintony wrote:

I so hope I'm not walking into a trap here, but that was really nice!

thanks, no trap, just felt like writing.

I'm just feeling nostalgic for happy threads.

captaintony wrote:


see, you weren't always a jackass. i have seen your posts on the ABB forum dude, you ain't nothing like this over there. just a music mooch.

Another bump, this time for beefroberts. Mike, why don't you just go back to being the good guy you really are??

iamthedoor wrote:


tim if you don't mind i would like to turn this into a song. do you have more? do you write?