Strangers is a song about the complexity of love and relationships; love being one of life’s greatest mysteries.
Stellar playing by Jeff, Mark and Alex, with Joy’s beautiful scat on the outro, colour this song in a beautiful light.
This week’s poem is from my collection Horizon
Our Dead Poets Sing was written late at night beside the Magnetewan River. It’s a magical connection with a spiritual text, where poets from the distant past rise from the Earth and speak.
Fredrick Brooks - Vocals/Acoustic Guitar
Joy Brooks - Vocals/Harmonies/Percussion
Jeff Bracket - Electric Guitar
Alex Paris - Bass
Mark Congram - Drums
Produced by Paul LaChappelle, Fredrick Brooks, and Jeff Brackett
Recorded and mastered at Quest Recording
<Click here to listen to Strangers>
Strangers
I - innocent - fragile
Yet polished in the ways of love
Follow no one and choose not to cry
With each lover’s release
As the passion of life
Dies…
No guardian will shade my heart
I and I only walk this
Broken shore - holding on
As each passion of life
Cries…
Somewhere I lie between the lines
Here nor there in search of
This prophecy of love
As each passion of life
Flies… Dies… Cries… Flies…
©Fredrick Brooks 1997
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OUR DEAD POETS SING
At times quiet as ash beneath the swollen fire
Our Dead Poets Sing
Long ago bequeathed the gaping mouth of Earth
They verse of autumn leaves
Withered bones, forgotten dreams
The temple of veins in a lover’s embrace
The howl of a lonesome tethered dog
This night
The great and unspoken
Rise from ash
Sisters, Brothers
Voice their piety and rage
Oh, sing our forgotten fellows!
Before the wind scatters
Before the night falls
Sing!
©Fredrick Brooks
Magnetewan River
