Friday, March 31, 2006

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Friday, March 17, 2006

Steve is Grass Green

Down to earth and a bit of a hippie, you are very into nature and the outdoors.
You accept the world and people as they are. You don't try to change things.
You are also very comfortable with yourself, flaws and all.
Optimistic about the future, you feel like life is always getting better.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


While attending a Marriage Seminar dealing with communication , Tom and his wife Grace listened to the instructor, "It is essential that husbands and wives know each other's likes and dislikes."

He addressed the man, "Can you name your wife's favorite flower?"

Tom leaned over, touched his wife's arm gently and whispered, "It's Pillsbury, isn't it?
The Penguin Cam!

Guaranteed to waste more of your online time!

(verse 1)
We have the night and we have a song,
So I reckon this is where we belong;
And when we’re playing around the campfires,
A little festival wine inspires.
Oh, no, it isn’t quite strictly permitted,
But it won’t matter if you're keen-witted;
There’s nothing better to get you loose –
Just disguise it as cranberry juice.

Festival wine, festival wine,
A glass or three would go down fine.
Don’t mind that bug swimming in your mug,
Just take a big glug of festival wine!
Festival wine, festival wine,
That’s an offer I’ll never decline
Fill me up another paper cup
And I’ll drink more of that festival wine.

(verse 2)
Anyone who knows me well
Knows my fondness for Zinfandel;
But I would never turn away
A bottle of that sweet Rose’.
Make it red, make it white,
I’ll sit by the fire and share it all night.
Mine is yours and yours is mine;
We’re gonna share some festival wine!

(repeat chorus)
Yes, fill me up another paper cup
And I’ll drink a toast of festival wine!

Stephen Brooke ©2006

A song lyric, still a tad rough maybe, inspired by the past weekend. Music is a lot rougher at this point!

Monday, March 13, 2006


Reflections: I have held
you to me as a mirror,
each love letter filled

with myself and to
myself, and now it is
myself, only, I hold.

Reflections: no comfort lies
across the river of thought,
nor in the mirrors of home.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

Back from my weekend at the Will McLean Festival. I'll probably write about that at the MySpace blog, it being music-related and all. Ideas for at least a couple songs bouncing around in my head; if nothing else, attending these folk fests definitely gets the songwriting juices flowing. I made need more paper towels to sop 'em up.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


Speak riddles. I shall seek
what answers you need,
bring stacks of words
that might make sense

if that one in the middle
were moved but then
the whole thing would
fall and I’d never get

them in order again.
No matter. Let me scribble
pictures of my soul,
shingle your roof

with post-it notes.
The rain will sing you
to sleep in the arms
of my words.

Stephen Brooke ©2006

Saturday, March 04, 2006

You Are Krusty the Clown

You were the class clown as a kid, and you still entertain people.

From faking your own death to getting a wacky boob job, you'll do anything for a laugh.

You will be remembered for: your face being everywhere, from cereal to home pregnancy tests

Your life philosophy: "I heartily endorse this event or product."

Wednesday, March 01, 2006


Poetry competitions. Art shows. Song writing contests.

I have a wall of ribbons from art shows. They never helped me sell a single painting. Another wall is covered with framed awards from poetry competitions. Legitimate contests, not those 'buy our anthology' scams. I doubt they ever did a thing to gain me greater recognition as a writer.

And I've entered a few song writing competitions over the years. Never any success but I doubt that I have the 'write stuff' to win there. Not that it matters.

Oh, contests are alright. I have friends who have won song writing competitions and that's great. I don't think it did that much for their careers, however.

Success stands on two legs -- art and commerce. The first, artistic success, can be measured by reviews and opinions but, ultimately, ones personal opinion is what counts. If one is happy with what one has created, that is success. But it is lopsided.

The commercial aspect is the other leg, the one that gives balance. That does not necessarily mean making a lot of money. Or any, for that matter! It means being heard, being published. It means that someone out there cares about one's art. Enough to come to one's gigs, to buy the book or the recording.

Though I never made but a few dollars from it, one of the biggest boosts to my ego was having one of my songs covered as an album cut a few years back. That meant more than any award I could ever receive. Selling a painting feels better than having a ribbon stuck on it. Having a poem in magazine is greater praise than a certificate on my wall.

Will I continue to enter competitions? Maybe. If there's much in the way of an entry fee, it's probably money poorly invested. Think of all the stamps one could buy for submissions to magazines! Think of the gas money one could use to get to that open mike! Get your voice heard and let the rest follow from that.