Friday, February 3, 2017

The Watering Can

by Brian Theoret

the year began under patient hand
and it's here that he stands with a watering can.

the boy walked down the dusty lane
dirt under foot and his arms they strained
pales full of water from down the creek
that he went to fetch 5 times a week.

upon his head he wore a cap
a wide brimmed sombrero to be exact.
his hands they were rough from the tumble of weeds
that were the days he tended steeds.

his father was gone most every day
to tend the fields and bale the hay.
so he was left alone himself
as his mother at birth she died on the shelf.

they had a good life with their horses and wheat
and after long days they'd sit down to eat.
the boy and his father so rough on the sides
been each other's favorite to spend with their time.

lamenting the days when they miss momma so.
she brought so much light to the lives she did know.
touched everyone's heart to begin from the start
and father taught son the gentlemanly part.

another year began under patient hand
and it's here that he stands with a watering can.

Photo Credits: www.pixabay.com

Friday, January 27, 2017

Goodnight Wolf Moon

by Brian Theoret


I could see the skeletal shadow of the trees tonight
As the moon shone with an awesome air of light so bright.

Reflecting off the snow the dark hue shone through
Moving, swaying like waltzing crooked fingers urging you to come closer.

Drifts of snow shifted under the weight of the wind
While the light wanes and fades into black.

A pine bough lopped from the main branch
Dragged through the snow
Leaving green prickly bread crumbs 
Almost begging for new life as a wreath.

Bedtime calls when the moon is at its summit
Drawing the covers up to your chin like the water to the shore.

Goodnight wolf moon.

Photo Credits: “Moon Shadows” by Arild Heitmann

Monday, December 24, 2012

A Reflection on Newtown

December 22, 2012


I want to do something. I want to helpease the pain of everyone I can. Every time I see the face of alittle one it reminds me that we all need to hold our loved ones alittle closer this year, and every year. Hold them close and tellthem “I love you”. In a time of so much pain and unbelievableheartache I feel a bit helpless but want to try and do all that Ican. We all must come together and show our love, support, andcompassion for one another.

On our way into Newtown, I wasn't surewhat to feel and didn't know what to expect. When such a sereneplace is turned upside down it makes you wonder how much faith youcan put into humanity.

My first impression of Newtown wasabout how much of a quaint little town it was with little mom and popshops lining the streets and it reminded me a lot of some smallVermont towns I used to visit growing up there.


The amount of support this communityreceived in the wake of such tragedy is something that I will neverforget. Flowers, teddy bears, candles, pictures, Christmas Trees,banners, poems, some from as far away as Hawaii, filled thesidewalks. I'm thankful that I was able to support the communityhowever I could and decided to get a hair cut as I was welloverdue for one.  Many of the children got their hair cut at Fun Kuts so I was happy to see all of the money raised by the Fun Kuts “Cut-a-Thon”went to those in need in the community.

It was such a powerful experience andI'm glad I had the chance to go and pay my respects to a town andcommunity that lost so much but has somehow found a way to standtogether. Together we all stand with you Newtown and Sandy Hook.




















Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Free Writing #1

What's in the way to gain the fame of the name game. The snow fly trouble bubble doubled into one. I try and surface what is under the cover of lightness and fondness and likeness but it takes a moment of stepping back, letting the light hit my face before I realize what it is that I'm really looking at. My realization of numbers and troubles and stubborn fumbles bumps me back awake. I've seen it. I lived it. I saw it from another point of view. I realize now what I've been missing. It's our time to show each other what we're made of. To take this opportunity, a second chance, to bring to light what's wrong in this place. What's missing in this space. What's needing to be replaced. Concentrate my frustration towards something special, towards something beneficial, towards something and enlightening. Bring it to the masses to spread and multiply and create and procreate over and over until what was once spread can now be held together as one. Bring it close to your heart and see what it does. See the warm and feel the sight of it. Keep the view within but share it with your friend. Free write until your fingers bleed and pick up where you left off the day before.

Friday, April 13, 2012

I saw a man

It was 7:45.  65 on the highway, exit 7 and I stop.  I saw a man standing on this same spot holding up a sign the other day "will work for food".  Just trying to make it by for another day.  Could have been anyone in his previous life, before whatever happened...happened.  For sure he's down on his luck.  Did he deserve it?  Maybe it was meant to be.  He could be the nicest man you'd ever meet or the biggest jerk in the world.  Either way, down on his luck.  You can't help but wonder.  Lost his job at the factory.  Let go on Wall Street.  Stop and say hello, throw a dollar or two?  Try to look busy until the traffic light turns green.  You're off and back to what you do.  Every now and again you look back and see someone do what you couldn't.

I saw a man.

Today he's not there.  No sign, no ruffed up dirty shirt and overcoat.  No missing teeth.  No one to wonder about.  No one to avoid eye contact with.  Maybe he made it.  Maybe he didn't.  You put in your time it's late you're tired but nice and warm on this unseasonably cold afternoon.  You wonder what it's like to sleep on the curb when it's 25 degrees.

I saw a man.

Pulling into the driveway of your manicured lawn, sprinklers were meant to be shut off last night.  The driveways' a mess with toys and bikes.  The things we must worry about.  Open the door, give your wife and daughter a kiss.  Your wife got home early, put a fire on and cooked a nice meal, a little cottage pie.  My favorite.  New York Nightly News announcement: "Homeless man down on his luck gets the break he has been waiting for!"

I saw a man.

Can't be so I turn.  Standing with his sign, his ruffed up dirty shirt and overcoat.  Missing teeth smiling from ear to eat.  Now all eyes on him.  Maybe he'll make it.  Maybe he won't.  No more of a need to wonder or even worry.  Just to think.  What would I have done.  How would I have survived.  What would have pulled me into the next day.  Could have been that one person.  That one kind soul.  That one believer that took a chance and bought him a sandwich and a coffee and a $1 ticket to freedom.

I saw a man.


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Thursday, May 13, 2010

Inspiration and The Creative Process

Inspiration tends to come along at in-opportune times. It can be any time of the day and because of that I always have a pen and paper handy. I often find myself jotting down ideas on Post-it Notes or anything I have around me at the time.

Ideas can come from anywhere, whether it's the reversing "beep" of a semi, or a bird flying by my head, listening to NPR, or even just the wind hitting me in the face as I walk down the street.

I tend to write lyrics first trying to keep to some sort of poetic form. Other times I write in free form pouring everything out of my head as fast as I can to get all of the ideas in there out onto the paper.

In terms of the music and melody itself, I find the best way to create them is by playing around with what I know already on the guitar. I make up new phrases in my mind, applying them to the fretboard, or the piano, using my knowledge of music theory to come up with chord progressions that emphasize a sweet spot in my voice.

I like playing around with time signatures as well and try to make them as unique as I possibly can. Utilizing unusual time signatures has always been a means for me to try and stand out and sound just a little different. It tends to create a tension and release sort of a feel in my creations.

There has never been one standard way in which I approach the creative process. It's something that everyone does differently and I'm always intrigued to hear how others find their inspiration.

How do you approach the creative process?

Monday, November 9, 2009

What's in a Name?

How a band comes up with the perfect band name has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Ever since I had the idea in my head to "build" a band and start playing music, thousands of ideas for band names have been flowing through my mind (and still do constantly) and not one has had the decency to stick around and make roots (until now).

"Perfect"

Really, when you think about it, what makes a "perfect" band name? In the whole scheme of things, is it the most important aspect of your band? I would think it's not the most important aspect. To me (and most others I would assume), the most important thing would be the music itself or the message of the music.

In the time it took me to pull up Blogger to begin writing this article, I began to realize that a band name in the whole scheme of things makes no difference at all and is really only a label or identifier for you. It's the vision that draws people in, and the vision that makes someone want to listen to you and pay attention to what you're saying. It's the way you make the audience feel and the way the audience makes you feel that is what it's all about.

I've always been drawn to artists and musicians and authors and creators that have found a way to completely draw me in and gain 150% of my attention.

What draws you in? A name or a message?



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