Recent creations
Gypsy Soul
Painted wagons circled, near the river by the glen
Twilight is upon us, and our journey soon begins.
The old man and the trail boss, scout the border line,
The guards along the border, will be gone before first light
The old man tells the trail boss, that the moon is full tonight
It rises from the mountains, as the north-star drifts from sight
I’ve always liked to travel, I’ve always liked to roam
Something about the highway, it’s now become my home
And when I’m standing next to you, in silence all alone
I can feel your own affection, for the gypsy in your soul
Mother reads the tea leaves, sister does her dance
Father leaves for weeks, and returns with gifts and cash
I prepare the wagon, for its border crossing ride
And listen to the wisdom, of those we dwell beside
And follow in the footsteps, and remember all the tales
For I am only seven, and a gypsy on the trail
We load our painted wagons, and hitch up all our teams
Like our fathers did before us, like we do inside your dreams
We move across the border, as the moon lights up our way
And journey to our resting place, a thousand miles away
We live within the moment, and repeat the ancient times
Caught by superstition, the creed of the gypsy life.
We have no need for borders, or those patriotic fools
That cling to others judgment, and their tax collecting rules
Cursed by those that pass us, for they do not understand
The guiding light within us, has burned for countless times
Ancestors have shown us, the world that lives by chance
Recognized by kindred souls, affording just a glance
I’ve always liked to travel, I’ve always liked to roam
Living in the refection, of the gypsy in my soul
And when I’m standing next to you, in silence all alone
I can feel your own affection, for the gypsy in your soul
It comes from deep within you, like a well-spring flow
You always could connect with it, the gypsy in your soul.
It comes from deep within you, like a well-spring flow
You always could connect with it, the gypsy in your soul.
A Schooner named Susan
When the saw-grass turns golden, and heavy with dew
I walk through these foothills, thinking of you
And wonder just where, your life has gone
You were my first love and it still feels so strong.
Time has slipped by, for so many years
But still I remember, all of your fears
Not to commit, an eternity of time
A free-spirit girl, whose light had to shine.
I heard that he died, at some tragic end
Black ice, a snow bank, then your life changed
I wanted to come, and help see you through
But I was far out at sea, forgetting about you
I’ve sailed through these islands, for so many years
I know every port and safe harbor it seems
But the one thing that always, reminds me of you
The name of this schooner, was named after you.
A proud little schooner, fair hulled and true
Under spinnaker or storm jib, she always came through
And anchored at harbor, on warm starry nights
I can still feel your spirit, holding me tight.
I moved back to land, not too long ago
I’m living in Oregon, waiting to grow old
But in my silent moments, with nothing to do
I dream of the time, that I had with you.
Applying Verse to Melody
