Some things are too late

Hello, welcome to my Blog this week.

This week’s poems and lyrics….

“Some things are too late” contains my thoughts re why do we do stuff that’s been done already? Put simply it is because our way of doing it, will be unique to us, as each of us, are unique. I play around with the word thinking, chopping it up into parts/rhythms just for fun!

“Written” is a set of song lyrics. The viewpoint is from an older person, semi-autobiographical (I really do write a lot of pieces as he muse strikes me, on pieces of paper to hand).

Poem of the week on the homepage, “Spring is come” written in folk song mode.

Till next time keep safe and well,

Louis

This Blog and contents, copyright Louis J. Casson 2017

TAGS: music, Blues, poems, poetry, lyrics, Somethings are too late, Written, Spring is come.

Some things are too late

Some things are too late

To begin would be no point.

You start to think and plan the details

To realise it happened already far ago.

Either you or me

Or a friend’s friend

Cousin’s cousin

The man who lives with the cat next door

The girl walking her dog in the park

Playing Frisbee catch.

They did it,

That thing you’re

Thinking

Thi-ki-kin-kinking-

Thinking of.

Saw it through to grow

Stood there at its orderly end

Eat sandwiches among

The grieving throng

An associated crowd that then moved on.

OK it’s as may be but you and I

Would do it anyway.

Beyond commonalities

Ours are the minds

The hands that birthed it

Made it speak.

Every walkers boot mark

Turns the well-trodden

Changes it different

Shifting to personal unique.

Some things are too late

But we do it anyway.

Written

VERSE#1

Written on pieces of paper

Penned on the pieces of my heart.

Etched in the minds deep reasons

Who I am is in every part.

VERSE#2

Found on the backs of envelopes

Postcards and tickets too.

These are the secrets noted

As life keeps flowing through.

As life keeps flowing through.

VERSE#3

Carved on my face and body

The lines of life and loves embrace.

Souvenirs of times and places

Till my dust it leaves no trace.

Till my dust it leaves no trace.

REPEAT VERSE#1 / END

POEM OF THE WEEK

Spring is come

Spring is come, so shake off sloth

Sing and dance, chase out gloom and wrath.

Plant the seeds go till your fields

Watch rain and sun, to bring your yields.

Spring is come, both boys and girls

Discover wonder in what love reveals.

Then summer’s here and autumn too

Round the circle ever new.