What gets left behind
with our unmade minds
forever rushing?
What do we leave behind
if we did not take the
the time to notice?
What is no longer mine
because neither you nor I
could take our time?
12/02/2024 j.g.l.
I wrote a song.
No, actually; I wrote the words to a song, the lyrics to a melody.
I contributed to a song.
It was an exciting (at times frustrating) process, working with a structure developed by someone else; working with another person’s art.
Actually it was interesting, and exciting, working with someone else on a common creative goal. I don’t do it too often.
Writing is, generally, individual work. It can be isolating. You spend plenty of time by yourself dealing with situations or stories that only you know.
You own the work. For the longest time, only you know the work.
When you collaborate you have to open yourself up to the thought process of another person, accept another point of view and ideas you may not have considered.
This song has been going on over the past couple of weeks.
Physically distanced, I have been working with a musician who needed words to some work. We share files and email and talk it through when possible.
There has been a lot of back and forth, each step advancing the total work.
When a structure already exists, you have fewer choices on how you create. You have greater challenges; the process challenges you.
I don’t understand notes and chords, but I hear the spaces where words are required. I know words. I am a poet.
Yet, although similar, lyrics are not poetry; not really.
There is more of an adherence to a rhyme. The words have to fit.
You must be responsive to a melody and the meter.
You must be responsive to another artist’s work.
Until, all of a sudden, it becomes yours.
You have shared in not only the process, but the results.
It is a rewarding process.
08/24/2020 j.g.l.