It is she

is it she
that births the tears
of joy and pain
is it she
who made the madness
crack my soul again
is it she
who drives the clouds
away from darker days
is it she
who shines like sunlight
into my waiting gaze
is it she
who makes complete
all the parts of me
do I really
need to question
it is she, it is she.

Weather’d Hopes

I sit and sing
to the hickory wind
and play to
an endless sun
in weathered hopes
that both I’ll find
before my days
are done.

Birthing Bees

all Psalms are sung
the dead are gone
and those they left
must carry on
to wring their hands
and cry the tears
but where’s the solace
through the years,
forget the dust
let ashes ease
to greet the sun
and birth the bees.

Always September : An Homage I Meant To Send To Aznavour (but then he died)

the springtime of love
like it’s autumn’s fall
is the same song I sing today
ce une dichotomie ridicule

and we question not
but simply play our parts
in this melodrama’s comedy
That’s written in the scarred hearts
of September.

the passion’s fire
and its dying embers
two acts of the same play
ce une dichotomie ridicule

and we question not
but simply play our parts
in this melodrama’s comedy
That’s written in the scarred hearts
of September….toujours septembre

Ballad

let me sing
a young man’s song
set to a sad guitar
let me sing it
all night long
underneath the stars
let me love
a young man’s love
and write it out in pride
to hold forever
as a rhyme
until my love has died

Simple Song

I watched her reading
something about Marianne
when she was a girl

she looked so pensive
thinking on the little birds
when she was a girl

she sat drinking tea
her face mirrored the noon sun
when she was a girl

I smiled from afar
on seeing her photograph
when she was a girl

Another Simple Song

I made a ship from paper
and set it on the sea
hoping that it sail away
and bring you here to me.

I started painting pictures
in lines and colours traced
to sketch upon the empty page
an image of your face.

I slept to build a dreamscape
bright and gold and new
that sometime in my slumber
I’d make love to you.

Forty Fives

The man in sunglasses
taught me how to cry
a Canadian Jew
showed me how to sigh
a man without peace
filled me with love
so I’ll take a forty five
when push comes to shove

a bum from Duluth
gave me pause for thought
the crazy New Yorker
moved me more than he ought
and a golden haired boy
brought my dance alive
so when push comes to shove
I take forty fives.

Unfinished Song Without A Tune

I sailed you
like a Leonard Cohen song
exotic, yet familiar
to me, at least.
as a compass
did your glances guide me
from north to south
and west to east.

you promised calmer waters
though the storm did not avail
but my fate already courted
in the belly of a whale

and so I sit ‘neath darkened skies
in tempests of my dreams
where your image hypnotizes
all I’ve ever been.

Cowboys

What are you dear space cowboy?
at that round up on the moon
are your spurs all full of cheese
and holsters full of spoons?
don’t you know that moonbeams
cannot be herded in
nor can the silver light that shines
be branded on its skin
so take a break space cowboy
and sing your western tunes
the night sky is a lonely range
and most lonesome is the moon.