Confessions of a Dreamer
Thoughts
When I think, my thoughts all whirl,
They really, really seem to swirl.
When I go to sleep, they carry me away.
How they come is hard to say.
I can't tell how much time they spend,
because this poem has got to end.
10 year old Sheila
I have always been a dreamer. Ten year old me fancied herself a song writer. The poem above was to be the first of many great and profound songs. The original version was a song I brought to my parents as they sat in their matching gold chairs. Proudly clutching my tape recorder, I asked them if I could play them a song I wrote. My dad cynically blurted, “Not unless it's under five minutes!” To which I ran to my room crying, rejected before the first note dropped. My mom assured me that he was only joking and pointed out that most songs on the radio aren’t even 5 minutes long so he was just saying he would listen if it was within reason. Well, I guess that was some comfort. I pressed the “play” button and watched them listen. I don’t remember the melody but each verse was followed by a very flat (and probably high pitched) chorus of “Thoughts-, thoughts-, thoughts-, thoughts.” Soon enough, we reached “…because this song has got to end.”
Click. I pressed “stop” and looked at their faces to see if they thought my hook was catchy. The only feedback I remember is my mom saying, “Well, it could be a nice poem.”
Kind of like having a face for radio, it’s like saying “you have a voice for poetry” not open mic poetry, that wasn't a thing yet. Just written word poetry. That was the extent of my song writing. The poems persisted and I kept each finished one in a notebook using my best penmanship.
It was either Shel Silverstein or a short attention span, but there was just something about poems that appealed to me. I still remember going to the Orofino library with my mom and discovering “Where The Sidewalk Ends” By Shel Silverstein. My mom and I would laugh as she read the poems and we giggled at the illustrations.
I guess a night of listening to singer/song writers sing their deeply personal songs sparked that memory in me. Last night, my daughter and I went to an open mic night for Community Music Collective at Public Works Art Center. My daughter is the one that prompted me to go so she could get free tickets to Edisto Blackwater Boogie. I love hearing live music, so I said why not.
I have been going to the Blackwater Boogie for the last three years. After the first one I decreed my next birthday would be at the Boogie and I painted live there.
It was so much fun, I did it again last year. I will probably paint this year too, but not on my birthday as they changed it to November. I think they schedule it according to the moon. That is part of what sucked me in on that first Saturday night as @Pierce_Edens clapped and sang with his gravely voice resonating through the trees and the full moon rising over them. That was the inspiration for last year’s painting below. Sadly, Pierce Edens were not there last year as their community was affected by hurricane Helen. The moon, however, came right on cue.
Well, I got a little distracted there. I just love talking about the Blackwater Boogie. I appreciate Dan Riley’s passion for encouraging singer songwriters and original music. There is so little originality around us. It is good to see and feel something raw and real. If you love hanging out in nature and listening to music, you should go to the sixth annual Edisto Blackwater Boogie at Givhans Ferry State Park along the Edisto River.
Good memories.
I didn’t know or remember you wanting to write songs!!!! I am glad you continued to write poems!!! ❤️