How far could we have pushed it? How far did we
dare? The cold didn’t
hit us so much then and our bones weren’t
the barometers they are now – not
so plainly breaking
down. And time, he was our slow
playground friend casting his long spell,
fooling us to think that
what we had was real.
But a new chord
could send our minds off in tangents to those
places of colour, much better imagined
than experienced. Two guitars, two
minds playing like John
and Paul, though minus their gifts, their
backgrounds; all still ideas
in the ether surrounding, mingling even with
Alexander’s breath, the vapours of many
great men – and
where are they? Great only
in books, and how much
lesser are we?
© poem and image copyright Dave Barker 2012
poem, painting and music © copyright dfbarker 2012
music performed on an old lorenzo acoustic guitar
The tutor twice your age sat on your knee;
you were always lucky that way.
First night pub opening, top of the hill.
It was the normal pretentious affair,
the legal name with church overtones,
the perfect occasion for too much to drink.
That night I crashed at your mum’s place
and she wasn’t happy, I could tell –
the slamming pots, glances that could kill.
She’d got me down as a junkie
because I travelled light
but the spare room was handy,
set aside for special occasions. Never used.
We listened to some Steely Dan
and then began to jam.
That’s where Red Dress was born.
In between gigs we hired the room
with egg boxes on the walls,
to fashion our fledgling art; firing bass players,
hiring Marilyn sound-a-likes
(who frankly were better at screwing)
and making a right hash of everything,
course included. But band badges were made,
along with silly visits to photo booths.
‘These dirty streets…’ the first line of the lyric
fell into place with that progression in E.
Dreams of Idaho and California. Some sun.
You made it happen and it’s dedicated to you.
And when I heard the news, I knew it was true:
the happy-go-lucky guy on the end of the rope
© copyright df barker 2012
First published in 2011 in poetry collection ‘Anonymous Lines’, available for purchase here: http://liten.be//gHmf9
* image created digitally © copyright dfbarker 2012
One day there you were,
a diamond in my mind’s eye;
the little lady with strong dark eyes,
such verve, obligatory husky voice.
I’d rehearsed all my moves – you know,
the walk, the talk,
washed my hair especially,
three year old conditioner and all.
I knew I had to be special,
to be that all-singing male mix
of strength, humour and vulnerability
(frankly, nigh on impossible
unless your name is Depp).
Little wonder then I’d always disappoint,
fall flat, look a fool,
but tonight I didn’t –
because you didn’t turn up! –
unless you were that sexy bass player,
the little lady winking at me
with those dark gleaming eyes?
© copyright dfbarker 2012
*This is almost totally a product of the imagination!
Any events which might have inspired this occurred many years ago.
**The image is a digital creation