[x]

GapAt one end of the restaurant table it is the year 2012
and C. has just returned from a trip around the world,
to Brazil and Egypt and South Africa, India
and Thailand and New Zealand. At the other
end of the table it is 1945 and M. is in a jeep
beside a highway in Germany as 27 Sherman tanks
roar by at sixty miles an hour. I sit in the middle
and perform the spell that keeps the tanks from
crushing the table and my grilled flatbread
and my India Pale Ale and my wife's tomato
soup and grilled cheese sandwich and all of us
who are here beneath their treads. I can do that
with ease, yet spectacular sparks arc across
the voltage drop bet

Something fell. How could a sound so loud
have been a dream? Yet how could a sound
so loud have left a silence thick as this?
There is so little sound you might be deaf.

You say, "hello," softly, to the dark.
You hear your voice clearly through the air.
The lighted clock says four A.M.
Did something fall? It could have been a dream.

It may have been the picture in the hall.
Why did you hang it with a single nail?
Or was it something not so near as that,
whose size and mass you cannot say?

Was it here in the city, a block away,
a mile? There would be sirens, surely.
Or was it something both near and far -
did a world slip dow

House Burned Down BluesWell, my house burned down
six years ago today.
Yeah, my house burned down
six years ago today.
I think that I will move out,
I think I'll go on my way.

Maybe I'll go to the city
and see sweet Cindy Ann.
I might go to the city
and see sweet Cindy Ann.
But I heard that she moved
when she married that man.

I could call on my brother
if I knew where he was.
Yes, I could visit my brother
if I knew where he was.
He slipped out of my sight
without a real cause.

I have some fine friends
who are kind, who are true.
Yes, I have some fine friends
who are kind and are true.
But they are so far away,

Here is an orchestra of forty-two -
not too many instruments nor too few.

What happened to the sixteen violins?
Each one has blistered varnish, streaks of soot.

Some reeds and horns have injuries as well.
But many shine and show no sign of harm.

Tonight there is a problem with the score -
the pages disarrayed and on the floor.

We look to the conductor - shreds of light
press in upon the darkness where she stands.

She stands with head bowed down for much too long.
A singer walks on stage - has this been planned?

And the conductor lifts her head and hands.
There will be music. There will be a song.

Waiting for My Rider BluesWell, I'm waiting for my rider,
I hope she gets back soon.
We really should be leaving
if we are going to reach the moon.

My rider is a sweet one
and she likes to navigate.
But we got to get a move on
or we are going to be late.

She went into the city
to buy us bread and wine.
If she got lost inside the market,
getting out could take some time.

There may have been bad weather,
and she was caught by a storm.
Just as soon as she gets back here,
we will both be safe and warm.

She may have met a crowd of people
who were watching a parade.
She may be waiting till it passes,
and they move a barricade.

She may have heard s

I have a mirror that shows another face.

I have a face that asks to hear a song.

I have a song with room for light.

I have light that is the red inside every color.

I have a color that is waiting for its name.

I have a name that means tenderness.

I have tenderness caught in a mirror.

Barbed Wire Ballad

Bring more barbed wire. Bring the heavy rolls
of twisted steel and metal thorns. Wear
heavy gloves, unspool the wire from the roll,
make loops atop the wall. Bring more.

Bring more barbed wire. Here are metal stakes
on which it may be hung. Go on and on.
Here is a wire cutter for when we are done,
but that will not be soon. Bring more.

Bring more barbed wire. Here are people
to keep out, there are people to confine,
here a place to make secure, here we are
on our side, thank God. Bring more.

Here are people, there are people,
here a border, here a barrier,
here are places, here are people,
here a wall and here the

Pursued BluesThe speed limit here is fifty,
but I'm doing a hundred and ten.
If my luck holds out till morning,
I might make it home again.

I've been moving since October
and they haven't got me yet.
I keep my eyes wide open
for every trap they set.

Sometimes I say a prayer to heaven
for the damage all around.
There is justice high above us,
but who can call it down?

The speed limit here is fifty,
but I'm doing a hundred and ten.
If my luck holds out till morning,
I might make it home again.

If I do get home tomorrow,
I will not be there long.
I'll put my arms around my people,
and then I will be gone.

But it's not so much the staying,

Snowing in the Bedroom BluesIt's snowing in the bedroom
and in the kitchen there is sleet.
Yes, it's snowing in the bedroom
and in the kitchen there is sleet.
Got to wear a coat and hat,
just to get something to eat.

This all started when I said something
that you know I did not mean.
Baby, it was something
that you know I did not mean.
Now it's the coldest situation
I have ever seen.

Do you see me turning blue, babe?
Don't you think this is enough?
You must see me turning blue, babe -
don't you think this is enough?
Time for you to end this winter
and to thaw me with your love.

But it's snowing in the bedroom
and in the kitchen there is sleet.
Yes, it's snowing in

I'm not usually the center

I'm not usually the center of attention.
Not that I mind for an hour or two.
Sometimes I feel I am my own invention -

but that is not my chief contention.
One simply does what one has to do.
I'm not usually the center of attention.

If my plans are in a state of suspension,
is that a surprise after what I've been through?
Sometimes I feel I am my own invention,

and should take measures for prevention
of others re-making me - of course not meaning you.
I'm not usually the center of attention.

I wish to avoid any misapprehension -
if I do not say all I might, still all I say is true.
Sometimes I fee

Cool BluesI'm stopping at the stop signs,
I'm signaling my turns.
I am trying to be cool,
I know about what burns.

I'm older than my daddy,
I'm not walking in his shoes.
He ate his milk and honey,
and you know he paid his dues.

Green glass on the sidewalk
that I don't always go around -
because my sole is solid
I just hear a crunching sound.

I sit at my favorite table,
it's the one where you are too -
I love to sit and listen
as you tell me what is new.

Soldiers on the street,
moon in the sky -
owl in a tree
getting ready to fly.

I hear voices in my head
as I fall asleep at night. &#

No Turning Around Blues

Going ninety miles an hour
down the highway alone.
Yeah, ninety miles an hour
down the highway alone.
Looking for a U-turn
so I can get back home.

Sometimes I go slower,
to check out what I pass.
I may go slower sometimes -
to check out what I pass.
Nothing ever looks familiar,
so I step on the gas.

Other drivers pass me,
going too fast for words.
Well, other drivers pass me,
going too fast for words.
They go off into the distance
and vanish there like birds.

The highway can be narrow
or it may be ten lanes wide.
It may be one or two lanes,
it may be ten lanes wide.
Is that the sea in the distance
or just a trick of the light?

My home is

I am so brittle

I am so brittle I could crack
and fall in pieces at your feet.
Sweep me off into the corner -
all I want to do is sleep.

I am so hollow I could melt
into a smaller puddle than
you might expect to see.
No need to step on me -
I only want to sleep.

Is there a code I have to crack,
is there a solid I should melt?
Give me the key and raise the heat -
let me sleep!

Water Music

It begins without a word - water music.
There will be singing, there will be a song.
But it begins with breath held in - water music.
It begins with stillness and with form.

A partial face, a single hand - water music.
One wish - to hide; another - to be known.
The red of lips, the green of leaf - water music.
To hide this way is not to be alone.

The image of a moment - water music.
Then it passes and a breath is drawn.
An artist makes an image - water music.
And a poet sees and makes a song.

In the heart

In the heart, doubts

In the doubts, a small room

In the small room, a table

On the table, a map being soaked by rain

On the table

In the small room

In the doubts

In the heart

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Burning House Anniversary BluesHave you ever seen that house, babe,
on the outskirts of town?
Have you ever seen that house, babe,
on the outskirts of town?
It's been on fire for years,
but it never burns down.
You see people with their shoes off
standing close to the flame.
Yes, people take their shoes off
and get close to the flame.
They say a voice from the fire
was calling them by name.
And some depart in a hurry
and some leave walking slow.
Oh, some depart in a hurry
and some leave walking slow.
But they never come back,
either way that they go.
Well, it's your voice for me, babe,
that's what I want to hear.
It is your voice for me, babe,
that's what I want to hear.
When I'm having a nightmare,
it can quiet my fear.
And our love keeps on burning,
with a flame old and new.
Yes, our love keeps on burning,
with a flame old and new.
I want to take off my shoes, babe,
and be next to you.

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Submitted: July 6, 2012
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Your Man Blues

by *RichardLeach, Jul 6, 2012, 11:34:57 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Songs & Lyrics

I don't want to be a fat man, so I can't find my feet.
I don't want to be a thin man, seeking something to eat.
I just want to be your man - not too fat and not too thin.
I want to ring your bell, babe, and know that you will let me in.

I don't want to be a strange man, so people try not to stare.
I don't want to be a plain man, so people can't see I'm there.
I just want to be your man - not too strange and not too plain.
I want you to feel love, babe, as natural as rain.

I don't want to be a wild man, like a mule kicking in a stall.
I don't want to be a tame man, with no surprises at all.
I just want to be your man - not too wild and not too tame.
I want to be with you, babe, and hear you call my name.

I don't want to be an X-Man, shooting power from my eyes.
I don't want to be the Batman, you know that he never cries.
I just want to be your man - not too X and not too Y.
I want to hold you close, babe, and know that you're satisfied.

Your Man Bluesby *RichardLeach

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Songs & Lyrics

©2012-2013 *RichardLeach

It's been a while since I've posted a poem. Here's a little love song.

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*alisinwonder Jul 23, 2012

this is both a nice and a wise man, richard. sweet poem

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*RichardLeach Jul 23, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

thanks, Hanne

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*alisinwonder Jul 23, 2012

welcome
... and nice to see you again

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~TeresaClark Jul 17, 2012 Professional General Artist

The last part is hilarious in a great way Richard! really clever

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*RichardLeach Jul 21, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

Thanks, Teresa!

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~living-stone Jul 13, 2012

not too X and not too Y...love it!

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*RichardLeach Jul 13, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

Thank you, Shannon!

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~living-stone Jul 13, 2012

your welcome

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!debidebdebdeb Jul 11, 2012

I love it. I could re-read it over and over again. Only one question. Why are we still alone and miserable,when we want to be together so badly. Why?

Reply

*RichardLeach Jul 11, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

Thank you very much.

It's the human condition, I guess.

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