I got me a fearless heart

For Sunday Scribblings' #106 – Fearless I'm posting the lyrics of a song by Steve Earle from his outstanding 1986 album Guitar Town. Steve Earle's turbulent life is told by music writer David McGee in his biography Steve Earle: Fearless Heart, Outlaw Poet (2005).

As an amusing aside it may be mentioned that Mr. Earle appears to be quite fearless in matters of the heart not only in song but in real life as well, having been married a total of seven times...

Fearless Heart

Don't you worry bout what you've been told
Cause honey I ain't even close to cold
It's kinda soon to fall in love again
But sometimes the best that you can do is just jump back in
I got me a fearless heart
Strong enough to get you through the scary part
It's been broken many times before
A fearless heart just comes back for more

Folks'll tell you that I'm just no good
But I wouldn't hurt you honey if I could
I can't promise this'll work out right
But it would kill me darlin' if we didn't even try

I admit I fall in love a lot
But I nearly always give it my best shot
I know you must think I'm the reckless kind
But I want a lady with a fearless heart just like mine

– Steve Earle

Three assorted pieces of modern mythology

1. The King lives.*
2. Jim Morrison never died.
3. Johnny Winter is a zombie.

Mythology isn't all about things long past - each age has its own myths and mythology.

The theme of Totally Optional Prompts today is mythology, hence this small collection of mythorabilia I pulled out of my mythological hat.

Art by Dustin Parker. For more see Dustin Parker Arts LLC.

* See here.

Wordless relationship

Posted for Wordless Wednesday's April 9 edition.

The color fib

Red,
white,
blue, green
hue. Yellow,
cinnabar, maroon,
cyan, ocher and pink pink moon.
Anthracite and black,
but there’s im-
minent
li-
lac.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Colors with admixture of Nick Drake's Pink Moon song and the coming of spring in lilac.
A perfect fit for One Single Impression's "color" prompt.

Back then in ca. 1959

Back then when summers seemed an unending sequence of warm sunny days
When swimming trunks were shapeless and high-hipped
When trash cans were made of zinc-plated metal and held some kind of mystery

Posted for Sunday Scribblings # 105 – The Photograph.

Yep, that's yours truly in the picture. I was too young to recollect what I was doing there – all the memories I have of this vacation in the Black Forest are vicarious. Whatever it was, my father felt compelled to get out his Leica and take this snapshot.

L.B.

The land with the velvet hill (peace will come)

The land with the velvet hill
(detail from The Fortress of Golkonda, 2004;
gouache, oil crayon and acrylic on paper)

Today's theme proposed by Inspire Me Thursday is PEACE - the peace symbol is turning fifty.

I'm not using the peace symbol itself here but make reference to someone who was a symbol of the peace movement of the 1960s and 70s – Melanie. In particular, I'm thinking of her song Peace Will Come whose lyrics are the reason why I chose this painting.

The song seems to focus on the peace inside oneself, yet also establishes a connection to the whole world or even becomes the world. We are all part of it, and it might not be the worst idea for everyone to buy one – a piece of peace.

Peace Will Come

There's a chance peace will come in your life please buy one

Sometimes when I am feeling as big as the land
With the velvet hill in the small of my back
And my hands are playing with sand

And my feet are swimming in all of the waters
All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man

Well sometimes when I am feeling so grand
And I become the world
And the world becomes a man

And my song becomes a part of the river
I cry out to keep me just the way I am
According to plan

According to man, according to plan
According to man, according to plan

There's a chance peace will come
In your life please buy one.

There's a chance peace will come
In my life please buy one.

For sometime when we have reached the end
With the velvet hill in the small of my backs
And our hands are clutching the sand

Will our blood become a part of the river
All of the rivers are givers to the ocean
According to plan, according to man

There's a chance peace will come
In your life please buy one

(Written by Melanie Safka, song released in 1970)

The following video shows Melanie performing Peace Will Come at the Johnny Cash Show:

So I am a snapdragon ...

I am a Snapdragon What Flower Are You?

Here's what is says about snapdragons at This Garden Is Illegal, where I took this test:

Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh.

I came across this not while gardening (I don't even have a garden right now unless you count the cactus and sedum on my kitchen window sill) but while reading Linda's poems.

Mysterious parallel bounce

I. Parallel

Sometimes I have the feeling I am living in parallel worlds, especially when poetry plays in my head while I realize at the same time that a work-related conversation between my colleagues is playing outside my ears.

II. Bounce

The bounce back from my poetic parallel world can be dramatic and painful, like falling on my duff and hitting my tailbone.

III. Mysterious

Mysteriously, I have so far always come back from my poetic parallel world and have survived all the bounces.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Written to incorporate parallel, bounce and mysterious from 3WW LXXX.

Arcadian valley

bright yellow stone peeking out of dusty green –
the fading thunder of hoofs –
remote laughter of the gods

– Leonard Blumfeld

contributing to laughter at One Single Impression.

Overheard at breakfast

Said the egg to the spoon:
I’ll promise you the moon.

Even though I’ve been decapitated
I’m not entirely captivated –

I simply hate to confess
that my shell’s in a mess

while your condition is mint.
But I’ll drop you a hint:

Sugar would be very nice
instead of salt as a spice.

Taking me to a mouth
is the deed of a louth.

Our love could be torrid
if you weren’t so horrid.

– Leonard “Silly Mood” Blumfeld

Written because of the word 'torrid' at Writers Island.