Sunday, 25 December 2011

is this a dream? - ig clair

I'm not alone but still sometimes it seems
so much alone, and often in my dreams
just like the one who calls me "Dear"
you speak my name and draw me near
but leave me hanging, way up on these beams

and waking, suddenly it's very clear
I'm climbing on this bridge from there to here
eternal space surrounds me and
a sense of love confounds me, when
in reasoning, I think ought to fear

'It's gonna be alright', You say I ought to know
I've never been a stranger to the show
you play the song, I know the score
we wrote the music long before
You'll never leave, you say, come on, let's go.

I think too much I'm told, I know it's true
but that's okay, this traveling mind will do
it's time to put this girl to sleep
my thoughts will settle in the deep
but slumber stirs the climber in us too.

Monday, 19 September 2011

big arse rocker- g clair

Last Christmas Eve
that's when I found her
big arse rocker
lying in the trash
'neath layers of paint
magnolia flowers
still blooming, carved
in oak or ash

it's been a while
since you've been rockin'
passed along through
the hands of time

the story's in you
but you're not talkin'
buried in layers
of paint and grime

can't deny
she's looking older
halfway home
to the pearly gate
a sadder thing
the day they sold her
wired her well
but sealed her fate

and I declare
before I found you
my heart was smoldering
in smoke and ash

and I can guess
just why they left you
one man's lover
another man's trash

once restored
and in your glory
rocking chair
I'll see you though
your wood will breathe
and meet the floor boards
worn with time
but good as new

Now grab a hold
of that big arse rocker
drag her out
to the slanty porch
say lookee here
you're fit for rockin'
and this old can
still carries the torch

we'll work it out
I'm still believing
God's in His rocker
at the pearly gate
And here we'll sit
with my guitar and
surely bend
the rhythm straight

Sunday, 18 September 2011

His Final Passage - g clair

His final passage, all it took to get this girl the read the book
he'd asked her twice before he died, she said she'd started it, but lied
His point was made, she'd do her best, fulfill this day, his last request
for now, what's sure, she's hanging on, to every word because he's gone
and once aboard, she's hauled to sea, no pleasure cruise, but misery
she stands her watch from noon till nine, he drinks his scotch, she sips her wine
He holds the course, and surely keeps the surging seas from where she sleeps
and once her grieving eases some, she's finds his voice a comfort from

the memories, she reads his words through tear filled eyes, her ears have heard
and now she enters into his, her mind alive with images
of life beyond this mortal soul, of turquoise seas and sandy shoal
she mulls each chapter of this book and smells the sea and baits the hook
and climbs the mast up to top, unties the sails and let's them drop
and pulled into uncertainty, the ship sails through calamity
but never does she doubt the man who said he could, she knows he can
and reading on, she comes to see the trip was really meant to be

for all her days she's been alone, sometimes by choice though seeds were sown
but landing here on troubled water, no one found his only daughter
and left to find her own way home, to settle down or wait or roam
she's learned to simply stay afloat, while others love and others dote
on children born to entertain, she'd prayed for babies but got rain
the wind kicks up, her heart still bleeding, blames herself for never heeding
youthful dreams for fear of failing, SUDDENLY she's out here sailing!
now rising from the galley door, the smell of fresh baked bread and more-

sea-salt blends with airborne yeast, and draws her down to taste the feast
she swings the rope from deck to ladder, there's her Dad, a little fatter
the captain calls all hands on deck, a storm is brewing, still they check
to see what's cooking, time to eat, for work requires mortal meat
and in the middle of the story, here's her father's pride and glory
pictures taped upon the wall, his two best girls, and that's not all
a golden key on nail in teak
she'll watch him knead, while floorboards creak

she stands beside and learns his ways, for he was gone most of her days
out to sea to make a living, her mother said he's always giving
now she listens as he praying, for wife and child, what's he saying?
bless them both while I'm away, lead them safely through the day
while fishermen have dropped their nets, he speaks of losses and regrets
that one small daughter missed her dad, he never knew just what he had
and once again the ride resumes, across a sea of oil plumes
and men are hardly scarce she finds, her father's story now unwinds

he fought this battle with his crew, while stirring up a pot of stew
his Guif, the sea, was once so clear, he loved to fish, and held it dear
the tales within this mariner's log, could pull her head out of the fog
he's taught her how to sail the sea, to feel the wind which sets her free
from thinking it's about the past, to taking hold of things which last
and using what's inside of you to break the cycle, cook the stew
to forge ahead and let it go, you must read on, or never know
now seeing that his book will end, she slows her eyes and takes her pen

and writes a note on every page, attempting to now quell the rage
for how could he who claimed to love, allow her pain to rise above
the peaceful calm she's found within his final passage, 'tis a sin
and still, one day he shouts "LAND HO!', the end approaches, heart in tow
she will not greet the writer's end nor leave this place of make-pretend
She will not listen anymore, but drops her anchor just off shore
and won't accept the last surprise, but stills his voice and shuts his eyes
she fights against the frothy foam while bailing water from her own

she cannot bear to lose him twice, his loving presence, sound advice
on written pages, this the book, about his life at sea, the cook
for days to come the text will sit with marker near the end of it
for this her only comfort now, to know he's waiting still, somehow
and days will come and days will turn to weeks, then months, a year to burn
the only way for this old lass to ever move beyond the pass
to go and read the final pages; put to rest her rock of ages
do the only thing she can- to free herself from limbo-land

She finds the book upon her shelf, and opening it for herself
She'll read the words the man had written, years before when he was smitten
on that page, and by his hand, a blessing that he'd always planned
to read her on her wedding day, the daughter he would give away
"Be sure to love the one you're with, and this my girl, your wedding gift"
and tucked within the jacket there, a little clipping of her hair
a poem she'd done when she was nine and two more things within the spine
a lock box number and that key, this man, he loved a mystery...


Today she rides upon the seas, and sails around the Florida Keys,
she drops her anchor, swims to shore, the waves don't scare her anymore
and just last year she met a guy, a salty sailor with one eye
he'd seen the movie, lived the book, and thus the blessing, and the hook.

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Faith Hope and Love- g clair

Waiting on the day that I will pass away
and finally in Your presence then where no one can say
nothing lies beyond this life, or so we've often heard
but Truth has set us free from all the lies, we've got His Word
Hope and Faith that this is how it will be in the end
A love that lasts forever with my best and truest friend.

Flesh and bones and every little bit of what's inside
a temporal place to house the soul, a fitting place to hide
and all you think and feel about will dictate what you do
but something brings conviction to the soul when you are through
The spirit draws a man to search for God who sent his Son
to take our sin to hell, and make our spirit with His one.

We're waiting on that day, when Jesus comes this way
and caught up in the clouds where no one else can say
that nothing lies beyond this life, when JESUS speaks the Word
he formed this life from nothing, made these ears with which I've heard
Faith and Hope and Love, that is, a love that never ends
and we shall be together once again my kindred friends.

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

who you are- G Clair

be who you are
not just somebody else
you can't possibly be
when you're being yourself
you are one of a kind
you can do a whole lot
but you can't when you're not
so just be.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

mixed up but good- ig clair

This is the year and I know that I know
that I know as if someone has told me
you've heard it before and you doubt that it's true
saying somebody selling has sold me
I'm telling my folks and they're making the jokes
with their well-meaning words and those all-knowing pokes
I've been leaving for years but what nobody hears
is that often my fears tend to hold me

You can shout it all day, but your actions relay
more than anything else, if you mean what you say
You can stir up the salsa, while mixing the dip
but as for the chips let 'em fall where they may!

So heat up the grill and slice up the steak
green peppers and onions, fajitas we'll make
and as for life's spices,whatever you wish
we all like a kick, and chipotle's delish!
cilantro is fine, tomatoes and lime,
get the measures all wrong? No matter, they rhyme
The fixings are great, life sizzles and steams
let's have us a plate and then roll in our dreams!

You can shout it all day, but your actions relay
more than anything else, if you mean what you say
You can stir up the salsa, while mixing the dip
but as for the chips let 'em fall where they may!

Sunday, 29 May 2011

the reaper in the whirlwind -g clair

A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train
in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness,
here's the rain
now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees,
it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!

In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams
it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams
and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide
and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!

So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover
and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover
and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land
and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.

lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight
carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night
butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!
A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!

the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash
have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash
it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track
and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack

a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray
the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!
and all we care about right then is staying on the ground
and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.

The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be
we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea
though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms
and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms.

Monday, 23 May 2011

rude awakening- g clair

carried on the whipping wind
like knives through blackness and pelting rain,
a frenzied unison of sirens slice into the deepest of dreams.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Great-Grandma's house- g clair

in the mugginess of a mid-August night without air conditioning
on the second floor of an ancient cape, a rewired black electric fan oscillates while the unmistakable scent of must wafts through a zippered cotton pillowcover...
Hundred year old striped ticking struggles against the shifting weight of tired duck feathers, long since retired and unable to fluff with the punch of a determined fist.
Against my sleeping eyelids, tiny quills poke back like angry needles into a pin cushion
and I, squawking to half-consciousness, shield my eyes against the attack.

How did they ever do this?

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Misery Loves Company- Ig clair

I took a walk with Misery
we've been walking for a while
sometimes he says I go too slow
but I'll go that extra mile.

We don't say much and that's okay,
I'm not much one for talking
Silence makes good company
though some may find this shocking.

Well Misery's been up and down
these old familiar roads
prefers to walk with strangers now
who'll kick against the goads.

He's seen his share of Trouble
it invites him in for tea;
he walks the sullen pathway home
alongside Sympathy.

They take the train quite often
and meet up at the bars
Self Pity's always waiting
with her bottle, wounds and scars.

They buy a round and toast the clown
whose always got one-liners
to keep the crowd distracted
from the sad-sack whining piners.

Adversity can test your will
and take away your smile
you might meet up with Misery
and settle for a while,

to dwell upon the negative
will limit where you go~
and stuck inside, you'll just abide,
and surely miss the show.

Reflecting on old Misery,
I've often let him lead
through disappointments,
and my own uncertain need.

I slow my pace and let him pass,
and turning up the sound
I bid farewell to Misery,
it's time to turn around!

walkin' along- ig clair

Walkin' along
I hear his voice and get a skip in my step
I have to watch it cause I'm getting a rep
for acting crazy when I'm walkin' along

I hear his song
and nothing else is makin' me tingle
could be the way he puts the gin in the jingle,
the cock 'n bull is always brimming with fizz
ain't no wonder 'bout the best that there is

though he's old
and it's said
being old is better off than dead
well we know
where he'll go
Who saved his soul and for our sins He bled

and when I'm blue
his voice can reach me in the worst places
bears the burden, then he ties up my laces
and lifts me like the sun in His song
staying with me while I'm walkin' along.

Monday, 2 May 2011

With You- ig clair

looking back I couldn't see
 the storm clouds rising up inside me
here alone I've faced a darker day
hard to know where you begin just like the rain
you touched my skin and suddenly I'm drenched
and looking for a place to hide away

 with you ( with you)
 hide away with you ( with you)

take me back to where you're from
and dry me off beneath the sun
and speak to me the words which turn cold winters into summer
melt the ice within my heart please make it safe
and never part my life with you is so much more
 than what it was, a bummer

 with you (with you)
summer fun with you (with you)

Clouds move in and storms roll past
the darkness comes but never lasts
and through it all the Lord, our closest friend
First and Last, He's still the same and
trusting in His Holy Name
He's sure to bring us sunshine in the end

 with you (with you)
in the end with you (with you)

Monday, 14 March 2011

just being there- G Clair

The randomness, the senselessness
you strive to make life count and then it comes to this
and in the end you're left with pain
and someone writes a song and it just seems inane

There is no way to justify, find meaning in your loss, you know
but still we try
there are no words you need to hear
you only want the comfort, and it seems so clear

It's in our hearts, we want to take
your misery, to share your grief and ease the ache
well-meaning words, it's just the thought
and sinking down, too weak to stand
with arms you're caught

Held up and loved, in silence there
is something more than words can say to show we care
no need to talk, yet still we share
the burden of your pain
it’s plain...
just being there
just being there

Saturday, 5 March 2011

Sweet Mystery- G Clair

At the end of the day, it could go either way
much like at the end of this song
Well I write for a while then I sink to a smile
when I think how you draw me along.

Well we came with a story, a beautiful poem,
unheard verses locked deep in our soul
and to way to discover what's locked in a lover
find the key that will fit the keyhole.

Must we all be inspired? Seems like that's how I'm wired
I've got something to share, but it seems
that I still blame myself for what sits on the shelf
unreleased from my closet of dreams.

From rejection to strife, anger cuts like a knife
and it tore at the door to my pride
it was then your sweet voice through the keyhole rejoiced
and released the deadbolt from inside.

So now I can tell you just what's on my mind
I am corny and weird and unkind, sometimes
but I say what I feel 'cause i know what is real
and it sure beats what I left behind.

Thought the answer was finding the right key
for the words and the music to roll
but the Master unlocking life's sweet mystery
is the Love sown in each others soul.

porch swing rhythm - G Clair

Minding our own, makin' it rhyme
it's all coming out, there's dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time.

nothing held back, I've got nothing to say
let it roll off my shoulders, puts less your mind
and it's better that way.

And isn't it nice, you like hot tea 'on ice'
thank you, yes, I can follow directions,
so please, don't think twice.

And isn't it great, we can stay out real late
watching millions of sparkling stars,
while you're lickin' that plate.

I said nothing at all, it's that horse in the stall
my foot fell asleep, but I'm not gonna weep
I can drag it or crawl.

Now the wind's in the trees, and your hand's on my knees
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
puts my tired mind at ease.

Distracted, it's true, idle chatter won't do
Better nothing to say, put the music on play
and be quiet with you.

Monday, 7 February 2011

The Heart-broken Fireside Blues

What can you say out there in the fog
in want of the old flame, you burned your last log

The memories are hot, the pain you remember
beneath all the ashes, that last glowing ember

Don't bother to fan it, there's no fuel to burn
let it go out, save the ash for the urn

turn your attention to wood that needs chopping
do something worthwhile, like sweeping and mopping

Sweep out the soot and mop up your tears
clean out the attic let go of your fears

Put on the blues,then something upbeat
get on your warm clothes, walk out to the street

Follow it down to the steamy creek bed
The mineral water is something, it's said

melts away sadness and heats up your head
better than anywhere else I've been led

Water and Truth are hardly the same
but spoken by God and heated by flame

springs from the Rock, eternally true
flows through the mind much better than brew

Comforts the soul and eases the dread
lightens the burden and raises the dead

this is the stuff that He baptized us in
Hope for the weary, forgiveness of sin

Gave us His Word which will stand and deliver
won't ever forsake us 'cause He is The Giver

and when life is dreary, and love let's you down
you're feeling all weary, as if you might drown

read Psalm Twenty-Three and you'll get to the part
He leads you to water, and rest for your heart

lie back in the warmth, pulled free from the mire
be freed from the past, and forever 'on fire'!

Friday, 4 February 2011

Heartstrings - G Clair

I'm messing with your heartstrings and you're feeling out of tune
from now on no one touches these you cry out to the moon
You're safe and sound concealed, packed within your hard-shell case
protected by a shield from the hitch, forget the chase.

And maybe you are best alone, a hard-shell case like me
prefer your friends to lovers, seems the way it ought to be
you've learned to tune your heartstrings to the symphony of life
rather than be messed with by a heavy handed wife.

Well I've got something to tell you, which I've learned along the way
and I hope this golden nugget's gonna bless your heart today
though life's a hard-core teacher, take a chance and fail a test,
you'd be wise to save your heartstrings for the one who'll play them the best.

Thursday, 3 February 2011

Love is Hairy- G Clair

My first ever epic poem written during the peak of PMS. It reflects the usual feelings of insecurity, self loathing, paranoia, irritability, irrational thinking, mood swings, and a tendancy to turn on the loved one who is usually an innocent bystander. Mostly, it's just a silly poem about the hairy side of love.

Love is hairy, stubbly stuff
shave all week it's never enough
whether I shave it or slather on Nair
whack it or hack it will always be there.

Keeps coming back as much as you crop it
waxing and chemicals can’t even stop it
try to ignore it, the nubs comes in thick
even my eyebrows, a uni-brow chick.

Come Saturday I don’t really care
let it grow outta my underwear
Let it alone, that unruly mop
looks like I got me a nice bumper crop

This is my way, ain’t gonna change
my love and my hair are looking deranged
Sitting there pondering love and love's looks
flippin’ through Cosmo and metrosex books

Beauty is bare in my favorite rag
Nary a hairy or haggard old nag
Eyebrows are separate and carefully arched
Lips are injected and never seem parched.

Legs are butt smooth, and so are are the pits
Love is not given to hairy chick fits.
Speaking of nares, mine is exempt
The nose and the ears are extremely well kempt.

Sunday mornin’ rolls around
but his razor can’t be found....
I call out his name and wait for an answer
his ditty bag’s gone could It be that dancer?

The one that he watches the one he admires
could she be the one whose igniting his fires?
I’ve seen her there waiting the picture of grace
smooth, fair and agile not a hair out of place

I sit on the edge of the tub shocked and numb
look in the mirror then look at my thumb
I eye up the woman whose not spent a dime
on personal pleasures as though it’s a crime

My overgrown garden could not see the light
missed out on the sweetness, bare skin’s delight
Bought into myth and every girls hope
that she’d still be worth something without any soap.

Rummaged around in a drawer feeling sick
through my tears I lay hold of my old Lady Bic
Slipped into the shower convinced he despised me
lathered and cried, none of this has surprised me

He'd seemed a bit distant, preoccupied,
the more I persisted, the less satisfied
I should have considered my Love is not blind
his eyes are like sponges his vision will find

The best of the beauties the cream of the crop
as sweet sugar blossoms parade past his shop
I have an epiphany there in the suds
Time's never wasted on pruning the buds

Better to nip 'em if you're feelin manly
can't be mistaken for Charles or Stanley.
Lord knows the time I've put in at Curves
not that i see any good that it serves

So who really cares if he's after that minx
just between us we know how she stinks
Let him go sister try rising above
'cause if that's all he's after it ain't really love.

Making my plans to rip up his picture
wipe out his memory no longer a fixture
I can't say that I needed nor much that I cared
for the man or his dirty laundry I've aired

When into my steamy retreat disconcerted
the voice of the man I was sure had deserted.
I silence my heart and put down the Bic
ease back the curtain and see my St. Nick

The hairy faced heathen battered and worn
face kind of prickly needs to be shorn.
'What is THIS? 'he demands and holds out his hand
'Why, a worn out old mach 3, the triple edge brand! '

"I just CHANGED this blade and the thing's dull and rusted!"
"Heck if I know", but I know I’ve been busted.
Step out of the shower bare skin drippin' wet
'At this rate I think I’ll buy stock in Gillette.'

I hold out my Bic and smile at old Bones
"Would you like me to light your cigar, Mr. Jones?"
Leave him to his business, which won’t include the shave
Love is stubbly,love is soft and hairy to the grave.

Gina Morrone 2007