Come my love, into my arms
Somewhere back in the early 1970s, I fancied myself a songwriter and folksinger. I recently unearthed some lyrics and music sheets from those times, and I wondered: Where did that strange young woman go with her poems and her dreams? What would I think of her if I met her now?
In James Joyce's Ulysses, the character Stephan Dedalus ponders: "My childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tryants willing to be dethroned."
And so I am posting some of my old lyrics here, bringing them forth from their weary and dark and secret palace, into the light of this new millennium. And I am finding in those old lyrics a few moments of charm and beauty and magic still.
I share them here with an older, and wearier world. Perhaps that strange young woman who journeyed so far in her dreams would smile.
Email me at
j76612.1037 @ gmail.com
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