Flipflop Blues

I’ve never experimented with writing children’s songs.  Here’s my first attempt.  The tune was written by Danny Rash, and arranged by Ted Lombard.  It has the sound of hurried feet headed out the door – off to go fishing:)

 

7 dusty flipflops go’n fish’n

7 tired flipflops headed home

7 lazy flipflops on the back porch

Where to find the other one?

Look’n under

Look’n over

Hunt’n clover

Where’s that shoe?

Look’n under

Look’n over

What’s a lonely foot to do?

7 muddy flipflops in the bathtub

7 shiney flipflops in the sun

7 flipflops ready for adventure

Where to find the other one?

Look’n under

Look’n over

Hunt’n clover

Where’s that shoe?

Look’n under

Look’n over

What’s a lonely foot to do?

Someone sing’n flipflop blues….

Oh ya:)

 

Song Written By Danny Rash

Lyrics By Lisa Boyl-Davis

Arranged by Ted Lombard

 

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Biking Next To You

Evening summer

Passing shadows with you

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

This ole hill has blocked our view

so tired to the bone

You and me, we’re almost there

And now we’re coasting home

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

Lyrics by Lisa Boyl-Davis

Music by Danny Rash

Arranged by Ted Lombard

African Rain Samba

The steady rains are here again

The washout wide across my path

Journey’s longer

Me and the downpour

and

tears

The steady rains are here again

The showers sting my feet

Journey’s longer

Me and the downpour and

tears

on

my

face

Rains came when

we

went

our

way

 

Rains came when we parted ways

Went our way

…Away

So far away

lyrics by lisa boyl-davis

 

Lyrics by me,

for a beautiful tune written by Danny Rash who plays one mean trombone,

arranged by Ted Lombard who plays some beautiful jazz piano.

Our Kids Are In Trouble

Our kids are in trouble

They killing each other

In an organized – thought out sorta way

And it’s all over

Cold hallway bloodbath

Dropn like flies

While we so smug

Hold onto our rights

I hold my ground

You hold yours

And now they’re gone

My right to choose any gun I like without a question

My right to watch what I wanna watch, without exception

Our kids at risk since a positive test

Their protection way down on the list

Both left and right

Responsible for this

And now they’re gone

Our kids are in trouble

We’re killing each other

In an organized – thought out sorta way

And it’s all over

Cold hallway bloodbath

Dropn like flies

While we so smug

Hold onto our rights

I hold my ground

You hold yours

And now they’re gone

by Lisa Boyl-Davis

Written Feb 22, 2018

 

 

 

 

Slice My Throat Silent

slice my throat silent

knife on neck

you block my tones

a ‘wanna be’

the song

i’ve always wanted to sing

stifled with

the cut

the drains

and

staples

they tear away my hope

that one day

i’d

sing

for

you

a stupid wish

with no place to fit

body would have never needed

to create the cancer

a reason for the preventative rip

 

slice my throat silent

knife on neck

your brow

and shaming

it blocks my truth

my story

the thing that happened

with no words

and no place to put them

the slice

it

shuts

me

up

and becomes

all the story I need to tell

slice my throat silent

knife on neck

you win.

NOT

you didn’t know

when plans you made

that my song

find

its

ways

through

SCAR

TISSUE.

never thought it through, did you,

that my story

is still as real

when

buried

by

a

fresh

wound

as it ever was before.

slice my throat

yes you may

and I sing

just the same.

my song

has

never

been

housed

in

vocal

cords

alone

cut me down silent

And

still

I

sing.

Here’s That Rainy Day

Maybe
I should have saved
Those leftover dreams
Funny
But here’s that rainy day

Here’s that rainy day
They told me about
And I laughed at the thought
That it might turn out this way

Where is that worn out wish
That I threw aside
After it brought my love so near

Funny how love becomes
A cold rainy day
Funny
That rainy day is here

It’s funny
How love becomes
A cold rainy day

Funny
That rainy day is here

Written by Jimmy Van Heusen

Beauty Sings Above The Pain

I found a poem I’d written two years ago, wobbly and foggy headed.  Written from hospital bed high above the Seattle skyline.  The surgeon had taken my thyroid, then a second surgery on heels of the first to stop an angry hemorrhage.  Had a hard time stabilizing, and with day six of yet another bed-bound meal of jello and broth when it soaked in how good my life really was.  Here’s to all of you out there struggling along, with an occasional patch of sunbeams and color peeking through the grey.

Jello red it shines
in Pudding bowl and waiting
And chicken broth a golden hot that warms me

All IV places swelling, bruised
Electric shocks into my hands
The wound from surgery still pains
And pressured chest from walking

But still red jello shines
The golden broth it warms
And beauty sings above the pain,
A song about my life.

Her eyes they brown as chocolate brown
A smile wide and joyful
His careful placing of the cuff
and working on the details
Raw I feel and wobbly
Too many days no shower

But still I see
Eyes bright and kind
One working on the details
And beauty sings above the pain.
A song about my life

Ugly Duckling and God

dsc_0493
To mock me is to mock God, for I am God Art.
To mock you is to shun what God has thought up, and formed, breathed into and had high hopes for.
To mock is to set myself as an equal with God.
I will not do that arrogant thing.
I will notice the beauty in me.
The loveliness and intrigue in you.
And when I do, I glance at God.
God Art.
God Offspring.
It is God who causes us to belong to each other.

A Challenge to the Actor

 

0431

My daughter Maley is a poet.  I’m posting her latest poetry on my blog, as I love the content and heart of what this contains.    

A word from Maley, and then her poem.

Poetry is a big thing in my family. Here is a poem I wrote that scratches the surface of some deep topics. It’s a challenge for myself and a challenge to others on this path. Blessing to each one He has called.

What makes a great actor? It’s an art that is tough.
So many people think they’ve got the stuff.
They see that they’re gifted, it’s what they so crave.
But it’s no gift at all if it’s selfish and grave.
It’s ruined, it’s lacking, it’s finished, it’s trivial.
It won’t find it’s mark in the history that’s pivotal.

To be a great actor’s no fortune or fame.
It’s the heart of the servant, to give without gain.
You see acting’s the art of bringing to life,
A character’s story of trial and strife.
It’s their realness of tears and the realness of laughter.
It’s putting their heart in the pain and the chatter.
Don’t you see, this cannot be accomplished?
With a heart that is numbed out, prideful or tarnished.

And what has become of the scripts that we write?
They take all our value for such a cheap price.
We fill it with crudity, violence— it’s cheesy.
Cause quality writing is truly not easy.
It takes extra money, it takes extra time.
We don’t have the patience; we say it’s just fine.
But decade by decade, the years slip away.
And the horrid sad truth is our children will pay.
For art paints the pathway of morals and logic,
It determines if we become holy or toxic.
It changes our ethics, the way that we vote.
Now that, don’t you think is worthy a note?

Sleep Apnea

dsc_1288

“The hose of solitude,”

he says

The tube that carries air to lungs

For tired body fast asleep

a-dreaming dreams forgets to breathe

“The hose of solitude”

he says

And so he leaves it lying there

And lays beside me

gasping hard

The man is breathing shallow snores

And now no breath

Long stretch of still

If I can wait

he’s got to breath

I can not take this sleepless night!

The moments pass

Before I dig

With elbow into silent side

The gasp

and now he starts again

He starts right up as my heart jumps

The hose of air

Might it be true

Could mean more left of me and you

Lisa Boyl-Davis

September 7, 2016