Ever since I first strummed a guitar way back in middle school, I’ve been writing songs. The lyrics always came easier for me than the music, which could explain why I became a poet instead of a rock star, but that hasn’t stopped me from continuing to pluck away on my 6 string. Today I play a Dobro acoustic with resonators. It has a deep, bluesy sound.
Now I can’t say that my guitar skills have improved much over the years, but I still try to write songs, though, nowadays those songs have turned silly. I blame that on my kids as they influence what I write.
There’s the nose-picking blues:
Everybody knows when [insert name] picks [his/her] nose
[he/she] eats her boogers,
[his/her] green, slimy boogers.
And the pretty butterfly song:
I’m a pretty butterfly—watch me flap my wings
I’m a pretty butterfly—watch me flap my wings
I’m a pretty butterfly—I’m a pretty butterfly
I’m a pretty butterfly—watch me flap my wiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngssssss
Now image me and my two kids singing that as we stroll through a butterfly garden—quite a sight.
Recently, I’ve been contacted by Cantata Learning, a new publisher that is pairing books with music—the text is actually written as a song. And while they weren’t impressed with my guitar licks, my poetry skills have landed me a chance to write some books/songs. I’ll be working on several stories in their Tangled Tune series, which will take some of those old classics like She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain and twisting them into funny new songs.
To see what I come up with, stay tuned . . .