My good old (new) desk.

Myself and my wife were in a shop in Newtown, Wales. It had many second hand items. In amongst a plethora of choices was an old battered school desk. It was nice and distressed. But, No, not ‘The’ desk I yearn for. So I wasn’t truly tempted to buy it. I have my makeshift ‘Good Old Desk’ as Harry Nilsson sang. It’s not old at all. I take that ‘old’ title presently. So my desk is a cheap fold up/fold away. It has become a beautiful comfort zone of light and sometimes chaotic pleasure. A place to look around and capture a strange source for motivation. That old Newtown distressed desk? It made me smile. Because eventually I will find one that cannot be ignored. It will be cosmically ordered down the timeline where ‘dreamed for’ inclusions sleep. But sssshhhh! Don’t tell my current desk buddy. He’ll collapse in the middle of a poem being written out of grumpy-ness. Just for the fun of throwing his toys out the pram.

Currently, it isn’t really reading material or fountain pens that are grabbing the Summers’ brain. But guitars. Especially relearning Bass guitar a for a couple of future projects. Playing a few live gigs again and putting together an album. A bunch of old and new songs to be considered and recorded. All planned for next year. But, you need to write new songs and therefore write down the lyrics still. So desk is still an essential. I can fold it away anytime at all to make space. So a battered old desk ownership is going to have to wait awhile.

Lyrics…..new songs…

PLEASE TAP THE PHOTOS BELOW TO ENLARGE. CHEERS.

Three new-ish songs. Acoustically written.

YEAR ONE.

We smash the clock faces

And try to turn them all back.

Wipe out all traces.

But tick-tock.

The clocks keep ticking.

We can’t seem to walk away

We’ve just become

Targets on the wall.

And we’ve given headway

For God to

Simply laugh at us all.

Year one…..when will I see you again.

Year one…..this can’t be the bitter end.

Year one…..you called yourself ‘my friend’.

Year one…..when will I ever get to see you again?

TOGETHER.

There she goes.

Looking for all the world like an angel.

Her friends tell me she’s gone for good

It’s understood

But I don’t believe them

Because she promised me we’d be together

Old and grey

Walking hand in hand

By the sea.

Until we….

Touched the sky…….together.

And we’d fly…….together.

‘Til the end of time……..together.

And still catch……one more day.

OUTSIDE, LOOKING IN.

On the outside, looking in, from my world.

I feel I could never fit in, to your world.

The bitterest pill I’ve ever had to take

Has been you.

It still doesn’t feel like a bad mistake

Because I still love you.

There’s never been an easy way of saying

That I don’t love you

Because there’s never been a time at all

I’ve ever wanted to.

A LITTLE EXTRA BLOG BIT ADDED ON. AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH AND ADDED THOUGHTS FOR WHAT IT MEANS TO TAKE IT.

PROSE FOR BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPH OF NANT Y MOCH.

Your outside is not seen by anyone else outside because

You’re outside in a place that breathes isolating serenity.

Your inside feels awed by the possibility of a perfect catch when

You’re inside your photographer’s brain.

It’s bliss.

Fully thinking.

Should I choose a plethora of silvery grain

To break up perfection on a whim?

Again.? A gain. Or disaster?

Snow White, translucent silvery grain

Like carved alabaster.

Dream thought to paper touch

To future grimoire inclusion.

A chance taken? Obviously.

Hands rubbed in glee.

Not sinisterly.

But in sincerity.

Latent imagery sits waiting patiently.

Presently? Sitting. Hoping.

Inside its own sleeping, producing an ethereal dream.

Envisaging the outcomes by not looking at all.

It already knows.

Let the inner soul provide the magic spell………

Let Destiny

Decide.