Days 53-62 - Ten Poems

I have some spare time, so I'm gonna sit here at my computer and work my way through ten Sugarland songs. Enjoy!!

County Line
The best things in life are free:

A kiss in cold dark pouring rain
Singing out loud on a crowded train

Dancing badly to a crappy band
Finding freedom when I hold your hand

Laughing at each other with no reserve
Digging deep for courage and nerve

Always knowing who's a friend
Praying this life will never end

Everyday America
Supper warm on the table at six.
Bugging the kids to eat their veggies
and drink their milk to grow big and strong.

This is the story of Everday America.

Rush hour traffic, early morning.
Whittling away at the endless day
to drive straight home and hold your baby.

This is the story of Everyday America

Tears falling down as she drives away.
Hoping she'll keep her word and visit
sometime before Christmas rolls around.

This is the story of Everyday America

Packing boxes to put in storage.
One last goodbye to the mortgaged house,
where the kids first walked and talked and cried.

This is the story of Everyday America.

Happy Ending
If Cinderella hadn't lost her shoe,
if Snow White hadn't bit the apple,
if the Beast had never been cursed;

the prince would never have put it back on,
she would never have been waked by her love,
he would never have searched for true love's kiss.

If no one had ever broken our hearts,
if we'd never been afraid to love again,
if we had never known despair;

no one would ever have been able to fix them,
we would have jumped too soon and missed the real thing,
we wouldn't hold so tight when we finally found relief.

These Are The Days
Cradled in a crib sound asleep for the first time in days
Screaming and crying and feeding and sleeping and pooping
Making so much noise and so much mess, but a beautiful boy worth it all

Walking together to school with big red boots
Holding Mommy and Daddy's hands to jump and splash
Best friends are found and not forgotten

Moody and lonesome and breaking their hearts with his concealed suffering
Desperately tring to break through the exterior to find the boy beneath
The first new smile to show him still there, not drowned in teenaged torture

Scared and excited because he thinks she loves him back
Wanting to return him to days long gone when such pain was not conceived
Watching as his first scars begin to form and stenghten his green heart

Praying he won't miss the chance so close before his eyes
Scared when he can't look up for paralysing terror
Tears appear at the known look reflected in his eyes

A long white dress dragging on the garden floor
Everyone watches her, but she lacking mirror sets her eyes on him instead
The first true kiss, the first true dance, the first true day of the rest of his life

Fighting with such cumbersome passion as to create heat of a winter night
Screaming and yelling and threatening to leave and walking out the door
Missing and pining and praying that she'll come back soon

The first sweet baby on the way to bless his life with love never known
Talking to her belly and singing to her every night to calm her fears
Remembering the terror of his childhood behind the pure joy of holding his little girl

Raising his girl to become a well grown woman far too fast
His wife's eyes reflect their thirty years as bright as when they rose
And then their thirty has become some seventy and the time draws near

He lies within her arms on that last night
Their eyes gaze upon each other and their lips smile fully
Love radiates from their every inch, and two full lives are breathed although in death.

April Showers
The rain is always first
It comes before the bloom
Precedes the flow'ry swell

Perhaps it seems we're cursed
All hope obscured by gloom
No buds can yet we smell

But the time is coming soon
When sugared relief returns
And mingles with sweet spring scents

Also will the blue jay croon
Fresh, cool dew revive the ferns
and love't last to us present

Mean Girls
tight blue jeans
long black boots
hot pink top
she's a mean girl

bares those fangs
paints those claws
thick blood red
she's a mean girl

pulls your hair
trips your legs
stabs your back
she's a mean girl

just like us
so she says
we know not
she's a mean girl

kills your joy
takes the guy
plays innocent
she's a mean girl

can't touch her
not a chance
she'll get you
she's a mean girl

you grin clean
but play dirty
gave what's comin'
she's a mean girl

dish it out
just like her
saved yourself
she's a mean girl

deserved exactly what she got
she's a mean girl

Stay
I'll beg
and I'll  plead
for you not to go

Please stay here

You'll kiss
and you'll hug
saying you're so sorry

Please stay here

He'll grin
he'll play dumb
and maybe you'll win

but Please stay here

I'll cry
I'll sob and weep
but still I'll hope

for you to Please stay here

Hurts will heal
Scars will form
and some say I'll be stronger

but Please stay here

Eyes will dry
Dignity will return
I'm telling you I'm done

Please stay there

Sugarland
I hear the world calling
with a million different voices
from a million differnet places

and then there's you

The brightest Broadway lights
The loudest L.A nights
and dreams that won't go away

and then there's you

Perhaps I could be rich
Perhaps I could be famous
Perhaps I could live forever

and then there's you

I thought it would be hard
to turn my back on all of that
to stay and revel in simplicity

but then there's you

Tonight
The sun sinks low and burns the sky a perfect gold
The silver pricks of stars begin to glow inside the black
The fullest moon's white light illuminates the sky
The blind darkness seems to stretch on into eternity
The pale yellow light comes out of nowhere
The tip of a morning sun brings with it pink fire
The white of day fills all the sky and shows the world again

Red Dirt Road
This is a poem
about a Red Dirt Road

I was born and raised
on a Red Dirt Road

Met my wife
on a Red Dirt Road

Married her too
on a Red Dirt Road

My babies were born
on a Red Dirt Road

They grew up
on a Red Dirt Road

We grew old
on a Red Dirt Road

Then we died
on a Red Dirt Road

The Conference

This weekend I volunteered for the fourth year in a row at the Surrey International Writers Conference. I saw, yet again, internationally famous writers (whom I drool at) Diana Gabaldon and Jack Whyte. The incredible group of volunteers managed to get both of those two, as well as many other FAMOUS authors, including my *ahem... good friends (and yes I'm serious) Chris Humphreys and Ivan Coyote, both of whom I have a great deal of respect and admiration for, as artists and as human beings, and whom I am constantly inspired by and am truly honoured to know.

This Conference (notice the capital) is the highlight of my year, and I always come away from the three day program feeling infinitely energised, boundlessly inspired, and acutely aware of the true limitless power held by those of us who take the time to harness our creative energy.

This is not a "new" poem (well.. to most of you it is, but I mean I'm not counting it as a day) but I just had to post it because I am so enamoured by the atmosphere and the people at this conference.

The Conference

the hardcovers, the softcovers, the velvet covers
the writers, the readers

the swirling mass of electric creative energy

the clacking of shoes on the tile floors

the shuffling of elevator doors as the people come in, and out, and in, and out

the bustle of motion, to pitches, to meetings

to the bathroom, just one more time, just in case

laughing, greeting, even the smiles can be heard in the voices of a thousand artists

artists in the purest form

creating something from nothing

weaving words and spinning sentences into whole worlds which never were before

the tapping of laptops

and scratching of pencils

the hushed, whispering madness of writers’ minds, and hands, at work

the spotlight

the blinding, neverending bright white spotlight searing a beautiful hole in your life’s work

a hole to be filled with harder work

with better words and properly punctuated perfection

this is the conference

the moment to shine

the second to split the good from garbage, the talent from the trash

the last moment to cling to, to clutch, to hold

the hardcovers, the softcovers, the velvet covers

your cover

Day 52 - Back to Sugarland

I really should leave for school now. But too bad.
Also, I have added the NEWSUPERAWESOMEALBUM to my Sugarland poems playlist, so I will be doing those too.

Settlin`
No is not acceptable.
No makes me forgettable.

Yes is the better word.
Yes is what passion has heard.

I could settle and be happy but bored
Or I could walk on my dreams, a highwire cord.

I will not back down from potential mistakes
I will swallow my failures with utter grace

That any life will not be drained is a lie
But I refuse to be until I die.

Day 51 - Ahhh crap

Ah the limerick. One of my favourite forms. Because I can write one on my way from brushing my teeth to going to bed and not feel like I'm actually losing precious sleep time.

Call Me
Oh crap I've lost my phone
It's face to me's not shown
I hope it's found,
but safe and sound
Still I've a worried tone

Day 50 - Hey, cool... I made it to day 50!!

I'm returning to Sugarland tonight. TECHNICALLY I wrote this poem before starting The Project, but it fits so perfectly, because it's a Sugarland song basis, so too bad.

I realise it's very long, but please read it. It's actually a story, and it's a story that has been in my head for a LONG time and I badly want to share it. I wrote this for my Writing class and I like what my teacher says about short fiction and poetry: "They're like orange juice concentrate, and the reader has to add water." That is so beautiful and true, and this I think is a good example.

Also, go listen to this song. Seriously. It is an artful and devastatingly beautiful tragedy, a true masterpiece from two of the most gifted poets ever to have put pen to paper and fingers to a guitar. (Yes, that would be Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush - AKA Sugarland.)

PS. The refrain is stolen directly from the song. Read it and see how incredible these two artists really are.

"If life were perfect and there were no conflicts to resolve, where would any artform be?" -Written by the duo, written in the lyrics booklet above this song.

Very Last Country Song

David sits at home alone

He’s become so tired of

Giving all his life to her

He wishes that he had known

What she was going to be

He doesn’t know that he’s free

Alicia sits and cries

Married faith should never roam

Her husband doesn’t know

Tears crash to the floor, for fear

Of losing her best friend

For his sake, she wipes her eyes

Miranda stares at photos

His half of her was strong

The man who was her life

The husband to her wife

He was her ultimate prize

Even death can’t do them part

But if life stayed the way it was
and lovers never fell out of love
If memories didn't last so long
If nobody did nobody wrong
If we knew what we had before it was gone
If every road led back home
This would be the very last country song

Alicia smells demise

Her hand stumbles with a comb

She tries to tell him no

‘Cause she hates her husband’s tears

This will not be the end

She’s in love, and fear will rise

David’s fear has now been shown

He wants to rise above

All the pain and anger

Fate has tossed the first hard stone

His family down from three

His father’s soul gone free

Miranda dons stilettos

She feels as though it’s wrong

Her and her son in strife

They both need back a life

As she reaches for the skies

Hoping new love heals hearts

But if life stayed the way it was
and lovers never fell out of love
If memories didn't last so long
If nobody did nobody wrong
If we knew what we had before it was gone
If every road led back home
This would be the very last country song

Alicia hates her lies

Unspoken words fill a tome

She’s sure that they can grow

Once she says what he need hear
Their marriage needs to mend

The bedroom door hinge sighs

Miranda finds new mottos

Takes the time to sing along

Happiness at last is rife

Perhaps again a wife

Her long due smile flies

‘Till the door gives her a start

David shrivels to the bone

His mother weeps loud above

He’s not shocked her man’s a cur

He needs a life he can hone

And shape until good to see

 So from this loveless town he’ll flee

But if life stayed the way it was
And lovers never fell out of love
If memories didn't last so long
If nobody did nobody wrong
If we knew what we had before it was gone
If every road led back home
This would be the very last country song
If we knew what we had before it was gone

If every road led back home
This would be the very last country song

Day 49 - Schooool

I wrote this for school and lo and behold it's actually pretty decent.

Blue Eyes

Her eyes in mine are blue as salted sea.

With depth and shine that shame an angel’s own.

Two oceans making her endeared to me,

tho’t seems to me this wings of falsèd tone.

As well her face is fair as pale morn,

a smile bright as early risen sun.

Between my sight and reason I am torn:

I wish to list to reason’s tight-formed bun,

but cannot do, for beauty o’erwhelms

my self and shows perfection in my love.

By sleep-drunk dream mayhaps by sight is helmed,

that makes me see such beauty, pure as dove.

So ‘haps it’s so that I have this contrived

and that her beauty’s just to me divine.

Day 48 - Something New

This is not a new Sugarland poem. It is a one-line poem that I somehow managed to think up (although I actually stole it and just changed a word.)

The Lovers

Thus, with a kiss, I live.

Day 47 - Baby Girl

Baby Girl

Long blond hair
Big red bow
Tooth filled grin

Chic denim skirt
Baby blue blouse
Gold sparkly shoes

I love her so much
Always bringing joy
My sweet baby gal

A Small Revision to "The Plan"

Okay. So I'm not actually going to get all the Sugarland poems done by tomorrow. (What a shock, right!)

So I'm moving the deadline. And when I say moving, I mean getting rid of. I don't actually think I need it. Having the songs as inspiration actually makes it REALLY easy to write like crazy. So they will be there, just not by tomorrow.

Days 39-46 - MORE Sugarland!!!!!

Here are the Sugarland poems I have written this weekend. Basically I gave myself the length of the related song to pump them out. As a result, they are largely quite bad. Oh well.

All I Want To Do
Laughing when we're lying on the floor
and sipping wine
and living high and fine with time for love and lust
and holding hands
and kissing lips
that's what I want to do with you

This next one sucks. But I reaaally don't have time to make it better.
It Happens

Some mornings when the clock strikes one,
the phone chirps too.

I answered with my sleepy moan,
Morning beast awake.

A crisis all the way at work
I have to go

It happens

I want to go back home
I need a nap

If only the day were over yet.
Where's the weekend?

It happens

I actually wrote this a while ago as a song. But it fits this Sugarland song so well that I'm using it.
We Run

Run

Until there’s no more ground beneath your feet

Run

Until you reach the end of the longest street

Run

Run as fast as far as long as hard as you can

And when you feel like you could never get up again

Thats when you run

They say i’m running away

But i’m not running away

I’m running to you

Into your arms

And i know that you might never take me

Might never hold me

But even if that’s true

The only thing left for me is to

Run

Until I feel the earth just disappear beneath my feet

Run

Until I can’t remember who you are

Run

Until I can't remember where you are

Run

Until I've run so far away I could never find my way back again

Run 

Joey

What if you'd said no?
What if I'd said go?

What if he'd held tighter?
What if I hadn't been a fighter?

What if your fear was stronger?
What if I had waited longer?

What if we'd given up?
What if patience had emptied it's cup?

I'd be sorry

Love
Love is stubborn
Love is loud
Love is angry
Love is painful

Love is patient
Love is tender
Love is kind
Love is healing

Love is long
Love is passionate
Love is needy
Love is greedy

Love makes fools of us all
Love makes cowards of the weak
Love makes stonger those who stay

I love Love

Genevieve
In the shadows of a broken hill lives a broken man.
He lies in frigid dark though in the sun.
A face is carved into the sight of his lost mind.
Her name is but an echo on his wicked tongue.

In the shadows of a broken hill lives a broken man.
Next to him there used to live a broken women.
Until the day she fixed her legs and ran.
And on that day he became a broken man.

Keep You
Two lives
One to have, one to hold
One to cherish, one to keep
One to touch, one to feel

Can we have two?
Can we have both?
Can we find a way to hold what we have? To keep what we cherish? To feel what we touch?
Can we find a way to remember the glory of the world?

Take Me As I Am
My shoes don't match,
I revel in attention,
Bad jokes make me smile, (worse ones make me laugh)
I'll always refuse to see the worst,
And I will never change.

I have a history,
a past and some emotional luggage.
My dreams are impossibly large,
my goals are unimaginably huge.
And I will never change

I know who I am.
I know what I want.
I know who I love.
And I will never change.

Day 38 - Want To

Ya.. I'm TOTALLY gonna get all the Sugarland poems done on time....

Want To

I want to see your face
I want to touch your skin
I want to kiss your lips
I want to hold your hand

I want to free your soul
I want to end his hurt
I want to stop this now
I want to relieve my guilt

I want to split yourself
I want to let you have us both
I want your utter happiness
I want my conscience silenced

I want to say "surrender"
I want to make retreat
I want to save my fragile heart
I want to swiftly kill my pain

I want to have you and to hold you
I want to seranade you
I want to dance with you
I want to love you without fear of retribution

I want to say hello
I want to say goodbye
I want to whisper in your ear
I want to scream my rage

I want to cry and sob
I want to laugh and smile
I want to let go of the world
I want to hold you for a while

I want to reach the future
I want this to be the past
I want to just move on, with you or without
I want to know your choice

I wanted you
I wanted not you
And one of those came true.

Day 37 - Something More

This is the first of my Sugarland poems. It's based on the first song from their first album. As I plan to do with all of these poems, the title is the same as that of the song.

Something More

There must be more to life than fruitless work
or no one right would ever in it lurk.

There must be more to life than pain and ache
or in the heat of it we all would bake.

There must be more to life than missing you
or from our cages all us would have flew.

There is so much more to life than that which pains
and in your eyes I find all suff'ring wanes.

There is so much more to life than being lone
Happiness is true when love and friends are shown.

YES!!!!

That's right. I'm back. And I HAVE THE ANSWER!!!!!

In my opinion, the greatest musical act in the history of the Universe is Sugarland and they have a new album being released next Tuesday. In celebration of that, I will be writing one poem based on each song they have every released between now and then. All total, that is 62 songs (minus five that are non-original songs from their Christmas album, plus one of those that is awesome and not cliched (and yes that means they wrote HALF of the songs on said Xmas album-how much more awesome can you get!!!) also minus three that are duplicates from their live album, and including one that is actually a Brooks & Dunn song (Red Dirt Road) of which Sugarland did a cover that I LOVE!!)

For those of you not good at fuzzy math, I will have posted 55 new poems by next Tuesday. Not only will I be caught up, I will actually be 35, that's right 35!!!!!!!! (please imagine that those numbers are in caps, even though that isn't a real thing) AHEAD of schedule, which will give me some buffer room if i should miss any days in the future.

If anyone is wondering about the fact that I won't technically HAVE to write a poem EVERY DAY if I have that many extra, I say to you first, I still plan on writing as many days as a possibly can, and second the point of this project was not for me to force myself to write EVERY SINGLE DAY, it was to force myself to write MANY MANY days and produce A LOT of poetry. I will write MANY MANY days and will produce A LOT of poetry so this is NOT jeapardising the project.

Prepare yourselves, I WILL post some poems tonight!!!

Day 36 - Lasagna

Lasagna

You make me melt
just like hot cheese
and feel warm inside too.

A mix of everything perfect.
Cheese, pasta, sauce;
Beauty, kindness, affection.

And you feel like home,
to match the dish's taste.

But though I love lasagna,
I love you more.

Sick Leave

Just thought I'd mention that I am deathly ill and thus have not posted the last few days, in case anyone is still reading this and is wondering why I stopped.