I was looking at some old lyrics, thoughts and poems written a very long time ago in my teenage years. Late 1960s to early 1970s. I’d included them within a personal journal/song/memory scrap book put together way back when. Very naive at times. But reflective of the happiness, hopefulness that existed alongside the turmoil and angst that youth can sometimes throw at you.
Searching for melodies deep within in my mind from past song ideas, it was lovely to find some of the original hard copy ideas of ‘What were those Tunes’ to lyrics or words once written…….and have a reminiscent smile or two. The result is that I now have about half a dozen tunes/melodies in my mind that are not too bad with their little catchy quirkiness. Bad with their lyrical lack of longevity though. But hey-ho, it becomes a huge experimental learning curve when excited about attempting to capture the ‘art of being a musician or writer’ in our younger years.
Do you ever get to write right? On reflection of reading my words, I was thinking of the purity found in my past innocence and naivety. The little song’s lyrics brought the past tunes back to mind. That did shock me because of the way that they could actually be remembered. The neural synapses, and their re-awakening from deep sleeping state, are a Universal gift indeed.
Could they work again? Well…..a few months ago, my very first song, called ‘Old Man’ came back into my head for some reason. So I chased it down by picking up the guitar, see what I could remember of the chords and recorded it. It was fun. Maybe some others could realise fun times too.
AND SO:
Lyrics (naive) and melodies (not too bad) to songs called Decisions, Take it or Leave it, City Girls, Natural Lady, Lies, Audience, Red Lights/Blue Nights, Innocent Victims, ……….. they are all little go backs in time, pick up the guitar and see what happens. New or altered lyrics to use. There are some nice melodies from my youthful brain kicking around in those times back when. A useful tap in to that keen and enthusiastic “Summers’ once was mind”. The reality of a revisit producing a ‘Eureka, it works’ or ‘Nope….totally useless’.
Or…… ‘It has promise’. A little bit like the previous ‘Old Man’.
TO END UP THIS BLOG……
Out of the found little poems, this one below made me smile. It was not my relationship situation at all. I was not the ‘Boy who never was’ here in this poem. The words were a general view on relationships. I met Angie at 17 years old and the Silver Moon could, and still does, reflect Golden memories. It’s called adapting to what life throws at you.
I suppose this example of naivety below is why I never seriously took an interest in chasing improvement in writing poetry. A guitar full of jangly chords, alongside tunes and lyrical words was far more fun. And roped in others to make a ‘band’. I love collaboration.
YOUNG DREAMERS…..
Young dreamers.
Heroes unto each other.
Photographs now kissed
In fond memory
Of what once was.
Our picture book outlook
Escaping life’s vivid realism.
Clinging to one another
Safely….for safety.
Hands grasp
And clasp
To catch-captive
Precious time.
Careful not to lose
One beautiful second.
Then?
Perfection shattering.
Frozen tears
Leaping
To meet the clock.
Time to leave.
Times so careless.
I was the boy who never was.
You were the girl who never was.
Both innocents.
Caught in a once held dream.
Crying at night.
Sighing on sight.
Both dressing up nicely
To impress.
Only to find
Our love
Not quite loving
Not quite caring.
Walking separately.
Reaching and searching
Deep into the stars
On winter nights.
Blinded by a silver moon
That could never reflect
Golden memories
Of those brighter, warmer days.
Could never bring to mind
Our unique sweet love song
And all that madness.
When we first met
And smiled
With that exciting sense of hello.
A token of friendship
That could only grow.
A token of love eventually broken.
Gray Summers 
What a beautiful poem/lyrics, Gray. I think there’s always room for some naivety, especially when it comes to young love. Beautiful to see and hear more from you and your songwriting ventures.
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Thank you Sheila. Just skirting on the edge of reading and writing blog activity currently. So apologies if I haven’t caught up with your write ups. I said about smiling at that poem in the blog write up here. It was because I could maybe lift a few lines out of the whole poem to use as a lyric idea. Imagery, even in a few lines, is a great starter for a whole song to develop.
I’m still struggling to find time to get at recording. The Frankie the Fella cat situation is just unbelievably difficult currently. Difficult to explain, but the consistency of his needfulness is breaking into each and every day massively. He just wants to be outside all the time. And gets caught up in his harness and 50 feet lead every five minutes. Stuck in trees, under garden furniture, raised beds, around upright slate in the garden walls, plant pots, etc, etc… “Keep him in the house for a few hours then” people keep saying. Can’t…..The continual noise of meowing and chattering to get outside is pretty mind-blowing. We are fairly near a heavy traffic road that is a main road from Mid to North Wales. Can’t have him run into the traffic!
Sorry for the moan. You just need to sometimes.
Ahh well. Today? Going out in half an hour to take a large Dyfi Wholefoods food delivery to North Wales. A couple of hours drive there and back. Angie says it will be nice for me to get out. We will stop off for a meal at an old favourite garden centre cafe/restaurant. Maybe it can be a blog write up idea! 😊 Cheers Sheila.
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Oh my, Gray! I believe you WILL enjoy that drive!! I would be escaping Frankie Fella at every opportunity! Haha! I honestly would not have lasted as long as you have with him, Gray. But understand the conundrum of keeping him—and keeping him untangled and out of traffic. I hope he has his redeeming moments!
No worries at all about reading any of my posts, Gray. No worries at all. Cheers buddy!
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Was a nice drive Sheila. Over lakesides, by rivers and on to high terrain. Very hot here presently. Stopped off at a village cafe. So a nice few hours spent.
Frankie does have redeeming moments. Purrs like mad when fussed and is actually a gentle giant. It’s being home alone myself during most days and from 7.00 morning until til 6.00 early evening that means that no one, other than myself, is looking after him.
I will catch up on others’ posts asap Sheila. All the best.
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Young Dreamers is beautiful. your lines are haunting, Gray, your voice is so tender. Old Man has that Gray Summers vibe, upbeat and at the same time deeply reflective. you’re such an amazing musician. and I love that you met Angie at 17. not everyone finds someone so special and something so defining so early. x
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Cheers cookie. That is a really nice comment. I imagined in a different way back then. Now I could have more reflective experiences to write stories about certain situations lyrically. With this in mind, I’d like to give some more to Old Man. An atmospheric circus act vibe instrumental as a middle eight and two or three extra verses. I wish I could play six string guitar more effectively.
Angie. I suppose we all find soul mates in those perfect moments in time. Friends that never leave too. And the secret of any friendship or relationship is to let others live the life they want to live for themselves and not try to get them to live the life you want them to. And so the story goes on and on effectively.
All the best cookie. Hope the sun is shining brightly over your skies and brightening up your life. 💫
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Gray. I have to agree with Cookie, you were far advanced and enlightened. The majority of 17 year-old males have no idea of their feelings (well they do best left out of this discussion). This is great, naivety is a wonderful stomping ground for inspiration. Can’t let reality snuff it out.
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Cheers Danny. I was one of those teenagers that stayed in his room and read and listened to various stuff from what my Grammar School friends pushed my way. My brother, Kev, the drummer, was reading Kafka and listening to the music of Leonard Cohen and appreciated Cohen’s poetry too. Much more from other artists too. He was 14 or 15 at the time. Kev was a very deep thinker. I’m not sure why we both were so interested in this seeking for these inspirations. My brother’s poetry was very much darker than mine. I still have all his little self made books, full of his poems.
I agree with naivety and inspired thought. Rather like children expressing in such unique ways. They don’t understand the ‘rules’ and therefore avoid limitations. I still don’t know the poetic way of accepted structures and formats. I worry that it may be too claustrophobic in expressing freely. So don’t delve into such matters. Rather like calligraphy. Let the nibs flow…I don’t copy the script standards. But poetry, as calligraphy does too, must have freedom of individuality to express uniquely. All art grows in amazing new found ways from singular bases. Thanks for your thoughtful reply.
All the best Danny.
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