There's always Reno Walt.

It's 2am in Balboa; no one in the place here - just "Becker" and me; soon, only "Becker"

Must move this topic forward. I've valued your words and would love to read more (sing real loud, OK?)

I'll leave you and "Becker" w/ a short piece w/ a long story (mercifully left out)

{Insert Applause/Cheers}

Ahem:

HOW I LOVE MY BUCKWHEAT CAKES

How I love my Buckwheat Cakes
Early in the Mornin'
Early in the Mornin'
After lovin' you

The Rez

PS: I'll save The Nude Beach Song until July

. . . "Shut up!" he explained. (Mickey Spillane)

LOL!!!!

Hey Rez - I know you started a new thread for poems, prose, etc., but you mentioned that this thread had been deleted and I just wanted to show that it's still here and none of these wonderful words/songs are lost - actually, now that I re-read the thread, Patti's contribution that you mentioned is no longer here, so I'm assuming that Patti must have deleted it.

Thanks Janice,

I searched and searched for the topic. Didn't remember the Heading. Memory told me it was something more specific to creative posting, but I was incorrect. Thanks for the find.

Now what do we tell poor Bullwinkle,

The Rez

. . . fan mail from some flounder

Janice, Thanks.

THERE'S SOMETHING 'BOUT MONTANA

There's something 'bout Montana
I can't leave behind
Wild horses run inside of me
At the stangest times

It's something in the rhythm
Riding in the rain
Calling out Montana
Calling out her name

There's something 'bout her beauty
winding through the waves
Longing for the ocean
Echoing through the caves

I sometimes hear her singing
Softly on my name
Whispering California
You'll never be the same

But I don't want to spoil her changes
By getting in the way
Or sing too many love songs
To try and make her stay

It's just that I keep turning
From in to outward bound
There's something 'bout Montana
I can't leave the sound

It's just that in the distance
Falling on a rhyme
There's something 'bout Montana
I can't leave behind

The Rez

. . . like a childhood calling in the wind

More, please, from y'all. I Love (big L) to read your hearts thoughs and share mine w/ you.

This one I'd not seen in yrs. I wrote it the first day I moved to Balboa, on my 30th B'day (1976.) (Have you ever noticed the sunbeam on the water follows you wherever you walk?)

This is from the perspective of the Exporer Balboa, credited w/ discovering The Pacific.
(All but the last verse)

I FEEL THE DESTINY

My name is Balboa
I come to the Sea
Observing the beauty
Far as the eye can see
I claim it for Spain
In Ferdenand's reign
And for me - It is my Destiny

For I come a traveler
A-long on the roam
Far from the home fires
I would call my own
And live on the Wind
The glorious Wind as she blows
What more need I to know

Consider the Sunbeam
Alive on the Sea
See how that Sunbeam
Shines it's way to me

Consider the Wild Clouds
Painted on High
The hand of my Master
The Journeyman's Eye

So settle me down here
And settle alone
Kindle new home fires
Now to call me own
And live on the Wind
The glorious Wind as she blows
What more need I to know

Consider . . . (Chorus)

My name is Musician
I come to the Sea
Observing the Houses
Far as the eye can see.

But alone on the sand
At Sunset I stand sitt and free
I Feel the Destiny

The Rez

[ June 06, 2005, 13:45: Message edited by: The Rez ]

Grannie's Song:

The chorus is a toast often proposed by my first wife's mother. I wrote the verses when I was 18.
Tonite out of need.

HERE'S TO YOU . . .

Upon my way to Saturday
I met a Man returning
A smaller Man with yearning eyes
Who I perceived to be less wise than I

Instructing Him to step aside
He looked insted between my eyes
Straight to my surprize
Offering wine and wisdom as He said,

(Chorus)

"Here's to you as good as you are.
Here's to me, as bad as I am.
But as good as you are and as bad as I am,
I'm as good as you are
As bad as I am"

And I begin to understand
There is no one I can command.

Further down The Road I met a man
Taller man, w/ burning eyes
Perceived himself to be more wise than I.
Instructing me to step aside
I looked, instead, between his eyes
Straight to his surprize
Preserving wine and wisodm as I said,

(Chorus)

And I begin to understand
There is no one I can command

Yes, I begin to understand
There is no one we can command

Now, on The Road we meet many men.
Some wise. Some not.
Some tall. Some not so tall.
Or so it will seem.

Let us be shown by others
When we are to blind to see
Just as we show others,
Think, you please with me,

(Chorus)

And I begin to understand
There is no one I can command

Yes, I begin to understand
There is no one we can command

In time, we all must understand
There is no one we can command

The Rez

White Boy Blues:

"I was born one mornin' on the way to school"
(Adrian Lloyd - 62)

The Rez

. . . Do Wa Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Do