Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2014 04 27 Poetry: Freight Train April 27, 2014

Hello readers, and thanks for stopping by.

I love music. There’s no two ways around it. It’s in me, it’s part of me, and I am a part of it. I have a song running through my head 24 hours a day, and I relish every note. I’m an old rock and roll hound dog with a heavy set of roots in folk music and a touch of bluegrass. I love it when a piece of music grabs hold of me and sends shivers up and down my spine. There’s not much better in this world than a melodic song full of harmonic bliss.

I wrote this poem a few minutes ago. I don’t know why, but all the while, I had Ray Lamontagne’s “Repo Man” playing in my head while I was typing.

Can you feel it? Can you hear it? Can you just tap your feet to it and start swaying back and forth?

Good then, and here we go.

***

Freight Train

Can’t stop the music playing in my mind
I swear it’s going to drive me blind
Tempo’s creeping inside my soul
Tearing me in half just to make me whole

Back beat rhythm grabs hold of me
Ain’t nothing else around I’m able to see
Old salty soul ain’t gonna let go
Soothing melody stirring way down below

Chords come rushing like a freight train bound
Captured sunlight shining in from all around
Three simple chords ripping a hole through the night
Restless tone pounding away till light

Can’t stop this music bouncing ’round inside
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
Burning melody won’t let me be
Capture my spirit and set me free

Advertisements
 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s