I walk through my
childhood neighbourhood.
Just because,
I lean against the lamp post
I held up every morning
in grade seven
as I waited for the bus.
Different weather
but always too
early in the morning.
More rusty,
it hummed
a greeting
remembering
(or maybe
that was me).
We don’t appreciate
comfort
until the air conditioner
condenser breaks when it’s
40 degrees* out
because dog pee
corroded the evaporator coil.
The steaming
house is broken
and dogs get more expensive
every day.
.
.
*(that’s 104 if you speak Fahrenheit).
.
(good thing we love them, eh?)
My Outlander theme lyrics to Skye Boat Song:
.
Called through the stones and carried ‘cross time
Voyaging far from home
All she has known is gone and she roams
Lost beneath Scotland’s pines.
Centuries part
Where is her heart?
Two hundred years away
Two men to love
Prayers to above
Whose love will she betray?
Carried through time, she’s called through the stones
Where will she make her home?
Highland wars loom
they’re leading to doom
Destiny knows its own
Centuries part
Where is her heart?
Two hundred years away
Two men to love
Prayers to above
Whose love will she betray?
Third verse, harp only
Repeat chorus with harp to end.
(c) Shawn L. Bird
.
Starz has released the first episode of Outlander, and with it, Bear McCreary’s theme song based on The Skye Boat Song.
I might be going against the current here, but I really don’t like those lyrics Horrendous. Grammatically cringeworthy. I mean seriously, “Say could that lass, be I” ARGGGGGGGGG!!! It hurts me. It really does. Not to mention they’ve stuck “Skye” in there, and Claire never goes to Skye in the books. He has feminized Robert Louis Stevenson’s lyrics to the tune, I understand, but there was no need to do that.
I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is when I complain about something, so here is a poem that fits with the tune of the Skye Boat Song and also reflects the story of Outlander. What’s more, I think it is a better fit for the romantic tone and the essential conflict of the story. Nothing about Skye, and the grammar is correct.
If Starz wishes to replace their lyrics for the next season, I am delighted to offer these. Feel free to send them a link and encourage the idea! 😉 If you’re from Starz, you can find my agent is listed on my About page. Drop her a line, she’ll be delighted to negotiate something.
.
.
Blooper lines:
Centuries part
Where is her heart?
Will she get back to Frank?
Though she is torn
Jamie she’ll mourn
but he is known to spank
PS. I made a video of myself singing and playing the harp (I’ve never been coordinated enough to do that before! How exciting!) The dogs got up and left the room, their ears twitching on the high notes. I listened to the video and apologized to them. Plainly, G is not my key. Yikes! So, while I assure you that this works beautifully, I may have to learn it in another key before I try to demonstrate . 😉 In the meantime, click to play on the video, then scroll up to sing along yourself. Hopefully G is YOUR key. 😉
.
You are a paper peacock
morphing into something new
lines blurring blue
sky, scarlet, golden paint
make me fly.
.
A poetry prompt from http://catherinemjohnson.wordpress.com/2014/08/04/poetry-prompt-bird
Claws in the hall,
a staccato jack hammer,
burrow into my brain.
The A/C unit
roars and reverberates
in my skull.
Dull morning light
pierces through my eyelids
burning like a laser.
A storm roils
in my stomach washing up waves of
star studded agony.
Heat washes over, steam rises.
A freezing blizzard follows.
Desperately I seek
the peaceful
oblivion of sleep.
.
.
.
(Not having a good day!)
Gossamer strings
weaving between
emptiness,
the lace
slides
beneath needles
as I stitch air
into beauty.
The scent
wound around the room
burrowed up the nostrils
and drained out eyes.
Set away
from sensitive noses
the lily’s petals have fallen
and still its heavy scent
fills the heated air,
present in death,
like warm memories
of you.
I need new pyjamas.
The effort of hunting through stores
hurts my head.
I have fabric, thread, pattern
and machines.
It’d only take an hour to make,
But just taking
the serger out of the box
seems too great a challenge.
I think finishing my last novel
was more exhausting than
it seemed.
You are a
panther of poesy
lithely elucidating
your erudition,
stalking grandiloquence,
vaulting verbiage in your
versification
until you are
a kitten tangled
in tautology.
Shawn L. Bird 