Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm
You can see the stump when it was a dead tree in this photograph that I used in my “7 Day B&W Challenge“.
Lyric
Rainy Day Play
Rain clouds, big frowns
moping around all over town
Let a smile be my umbrella
now I’m damn near drowned
Tired of these hundred and
fifty thousand shades of grey
Come on wind, whip, whip, whip
whisk those pissing clouds away
Been running in a mood for days
don’t see it changing real soon
Not in any mood for anyone’s wit
tired of the puddle jumper waltz
Head down and going horizon bound
still thinking I’m gonna drown
Rain, rain go away come again
say about six months from June
trudging along under the pouring weather
cold rain soaking through the leather
trying hard to keep it all together
Found her down on the Carrillo shore
she’s not caring that the weather pours
Ankle deep in the breaking waves
head bowed and tilting at the wind
Hear her swearing she aint going
she’s not ever going back to that hotel
Catches me catching her crazy storm
Now I’ worry about her harping on me
Just gonna keep right on waltzing by
got my own crazy self to talk to
She’s got such a lovely face
she’s cries about that Camarillo place
Who ever stops for their hospitality
brillo pad scrubbed and scarred
Singing how people are so typical
the truth is the place aint mythical
trudged along under the pouring weather
cold rain soaked through the leather
tomorrow is already looking better
happy I got all mine sort of together
7 days, seven black and white photos of your life. No people, no explanation. Challenge someone new each day and tag the person who tagged you.
G.R. Hambley © December 05, 2017
7 days, seven black and white photos of your life. No people, no explanation. Challenge someone new each day and tag the person who tagged you.
If you take the challenge, leave me a comment.
G.R. Hambley ©
November 30, 2017
Curios
Mine is mine and to each their own
so whom are we to pass judgement
One’s choices predicated upon
by how you my dear individual perceive
Reapers, the purveyors of goods grim
honouring both dollar and ritual
But just because you can
does it mean you should indulge the macabre
Incendiary with a highly volatile fuse
fostering unspoken mortification
Done from love by loss
as inherently personal as love’s little death
Memories tactile, both taking away
and in embracing the pain
Open wide to holding up a mirror
reflection upon your hurting self
Morbid, magnificent, maudlin, majestic
what else could be said of selections such
Each and every with their unique curio
memory memorabilia a curious thing
Nature ‘tis of we mournful beasts
displaying in so many ways
Turning cheek, both other and off if you please
my crass, your cats ass
One tap, two tap, three, forever remains in me
G.R. Hambley ©
June 01, 2017
I made an error in formatting on the original post. The error is now corrected. The poetry has not changed.
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