Twas around the Winter solstice When we passed Álfheim’s gate. Golden glowing Elven lords salute, We resign ourselves […]
Author: John W. Leys
And sometimes I just feel nothing Except a dull pressure in my chest. Nothing seems worth doing anymore. […]
Johnny B. Goode, duck-walking the stage, Rounding third, heading for home, winning the game. Flying ‘cross the […]
The letter came yesterday To tell me the tragic news You tried to string yourself up ’cause you […]
Bones bleached in the sun, Licked clean by maggots and worms Once living, breathing, With dreams, goals and […]
The length of human life is a single point, A blink in the eye of eternity, A brief […]
Jeremiah, Jeremiah What have you done? You used to catch dragonflies Like an angel singing on the sun. […]
Words cannot describe The way I feel inside Words cannot describe The world I see outside Words are […]
Straight outta Hibbing, Guitar in hand, New York bound. Think I’ll write some songs 10/15/16
Written on the occasion of Dylan being awarded the 2016 Nobel Prize for Literature.
Could be sung to the tune of ‘Song for Woody‘ by Bob Dylan.
You’re out there traveling another mile down the road,
Listening for messages when the cold winds have blow’d,
Writin’ ’em down and sendin’ ’em out,
Trying to figure what this crazy world’s all about.
John W. Leys 