Sunday, June 26, 2005
Raindrops By: Bonnie Waters Raindrops are falling on my window, Sounding like wheatfields when the wind blows. Memories are calling, and the rain keeps falling Just like teardrops. Teardrops are falling on my pillow, So many feelings I can't let go, So many good times that we spent together, I remember them all, We were always chasing rainbows, But I know into each life a little rain must fall. Sometimes I give in and let myself feel sad When I think of you, But I know that you'd remind me, before too long The sun will come shining through. Raindrops are falling on my window, Ghosts of what once was move like shadows, I'm under the weather, but soon I'll feel better When I picture you, Out there somewhere, smiling down on me, Like you used to do. And then I'll remember that the summer rain Makes the flowers grow, And it may come to mind that Sunshine turns raindrops into rainbows, Raindrops into rainbows, Raindrops into rainbows * I love these lyrics. Bonnie Waters is very talented and tender. I lost contact with this dear friend and hope we can reunite.... check out her website www.bonniewaters.comBonnie, if you somehow out of the blue read my blog please contact me. I have so much to catch up on. I wonder what you are doing. I love you friend and pray for you often... nancybrundrett@hotmail.comBlessings to all that read Bonnie's lyrics. Visit her site and buy this cd, it is great "Heart Music" Nancy G Brundrett www.nancy-heartmusic.com
Friday, June 24, 2005
Got Jesus and My Guitar By: Nancy G. Brundrett I once had a dear friend A gift truer than true Then my life crashed in Our colors all turned to blue Through my tears I hear the words to "It’s a beautiful day" I once had a lover With golden hair and blue, blue eyes Sometimes all day we’d just stare up at the sky But he went eastward And I went down To ole’ lonesome town But I got Jesus and got my guitar My bleeding heart is a vessel Not half, but whole So I’m singing from the depths of my soul I got Jesus and I got my guitar I once had a life, a family Just one more look now so I can see Hello momma, you too dad You both left quickly I remember all the good times we had I once had a song Did you see her cry? All this bad weather My soul reaches up to try Praying to the heavens up above Restore me with the peace of a morning dove Restore my world with just one swing of your sword My heart, my soul need to be restored Human words always get in the way I must be prayerful until I know what to say But I look around at the joy I've found in this rain Take me back to a place, a time, a space, maybe start again Until then, I got Jesus and got my guitar My bleeding heart is a vessel Not half, but whole So I’m singing from the depths of my soul I got Jesus and my guitar I got Jesus and my guitar I got Jesus and my guitar I got Jesus
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Goodbye How do you say good bye to someone you love? How do you make such a decision in the first place? Life makes it for us Reason and emotion don’t go hand in hand But our hands Fit nicely together Until life told us otherwise Goodbye Is such a cruel sounding word Like death It plagues the mind of the living And the heart that is used to giving love But goodbye Sometimes Is not a final end But the beginning of a new chapter And the creation of a fond memory Which will keep our heart company forever Goodbye my friend I love you
The Sound of Silence By: Paul Simon Hello darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again, Because a vision softly creeping, Left it’s seeds while I was sleeping, And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence. In restless dreams I walked alone Narrow streets of cobblestone, ’neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of A neon light That split the night And touched the sound of silence. And in the naked light I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more. People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening, People writing songs that voices never share And no one dare Disturb the sound of silence. Fools said I, you do not know Silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you. But my words like silent raindrops fell, And echoed In the wells of silence And the people bowed and prayed To the neon God they made. And the sign flashed out it’s warning, In the words that it was forming. And the signs said, the words of the prophets Are written on the subway walls And tenement halls. And whisper’d in the sounds of silence.
Walk Down This Mountain By: Bebo Norman
It's a better place
Standing high upon this mountain I've seen your face Full of the light that holiest height can show Blessed hand is why you you've given But you've been given all you'll ever need To know So walk down this mountain With your heart held high Follow in the footsteps of your maker With this love that's gone before you And these people at your side If you offer up your broken cup You will taste the meaning of this life Hey hey Well it's a common ground And I see you're all still standing But just look around and you'll find The very face of God He's walking down into the distance He's walking down to where the masses are So walk down this mountain with your head held high Follow in the footsteps of your maker With this love that's gone before you And these people at your side If you offer up your broken cup You will taste the meaning of this life Hey hey
This life
We're standing in a place of peace And this is how the world should be How the world should be (Walk down this mountain with your heart held high) How the world should be (Walk down this mountain with you heart held high) How the world should be Walk down this mountain with your heart held high) How the world should be So walk down this mountain with your head held high Follow in the footsteps of your maker With this love that's gone before you And these people at your side If you offer up your broken cup You will taste the meaning of this life Hey hey
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Deeper Still By: Bebo Norman She turned her head as if to hide, there was just nowhere to go ‘Cause standing tall on every side, the mighty fear of letting go She said, my God I'm so ashamed, thirty years a tragedy I still believed that he could change, but he pulled me down like gravity He broke my will, but it's deeper still, deeper still She told me morning was the time, when the sun burned bright and clean And love grew fragile on the vine, all wrapped up in gold and green ‘Cause after all we know we all are after all the same things But for the sun no rain would fall, and it burned him up and turned him mean This fire that kills me, it's deeper still, deeper still Tonight I rose up with the moon, and looking down from high above I saw a world carved and confused into valleys deep in need of love And falling down all thick with grace, Heaven's cloud of mystery Was filling every empty space, down tothe depth of human need This love that heals, it's deeper still love that heals me, love that heals me, love that's deeper still love that heals me, love that heals me, love that's deeper still This love that heals me, it's deeper still, it's deeper still
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Canyon Spirit By: Nancy G. Brundrett The gentle evening breeze on my face Takes over my senses as I rest from the desert like heat The Indian sunset swirls with warm dusty colors With the majestic celebration of a new day to come And now washes away yesterday in the sky Leaving only thoughts and memories etched in my mind The smell of this ancient canyon is a familiar scent it cools the crisp, dry arid winds The lonesome trees that stand near the rivers Are splashed with rustic hues bending their limbs from the heat of thousands of days Rooted deeply because of the fear of no water Reflections of this beautiful sunset are painted on the canyon river waters as they slowly meander south The ocean waves of old formed these rocky caverned terraces They crashed through and craved this canyon land The cool canyon breeze on my face Relieves the weariness deep inside my bones from the sizzling heat and arid climate How many souls have sat at the bottom Of this canyon land and thought of the powerful hand of God That formed this special place If I listen hard enough, I can hear the past voices of Indians and travelers that walked these paths A past and a future we all possess That sojourns this magical haven but the canyon has no past or future It just stands strong forever never changing Breathing in all the spirits breathe exhaling all fear and worries Night is upon me now with the moon and the stars Shining in the dark veiled sky it is time to slow down, be still and listen And let the Spirit catch up to my heartbeat and desires Life is good today as I rest in the everlasting arms Of my creator and lover of my soul
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Nancy Gottschall Brundrett Born in Yokohama, Japan June 7th, 1952 On the 7th day of the week 7th day of the month Weighting 7 lbs. and 7 oz. Born at 7 minutes after 7 On the 7th floor of the Japanese Hospital Room 7 I think 7 is my lucky number. Well, celebrate with me today. I am very blessed. God has given me a beautiful family and a grandson too. God has blessed me with His Spirit. He has also given me the gift of songwriting and poetry. The Lord has blessed my soul with the gift of being able to play the guitar and perform my Heart Music sound. So thank you Lord for loving me and gifting me with special gifts. I am grateful. I will make my annual birthday trip to the ocean to watch the sun set and melt into the horizon of the Gulf of Mexico in Corpus Christi today.... Blessings to all that come to my blog journal site.. Nancy G Brundrett www.nancy-heartmusic.comMy favorite poet Rod McKuen www.rodmckuen.comSan Francisco Poem To learn the how of happiness to understand its why you need an eye that looks inside, an ear that hears sweet thunder long before it makes a noise. All things cannot be captured or even understood good is so much of itself not found out or explained. And rain is only rain to some but holy water to all lovers. A condiment, as sun to earth is merely the other side of shade. First battles are the ones remembered best they occupy an equal space in heads bent over with too many years even sickness will not force them from the mind afire with pain. These memories are like the lark reoccurring and returning out of season. Red heart, red blood are so akin they are and have been always fellow travelers. Night. Twelve past the hour of twelve, so says this head’s history book, stars aplenty and of every kind enough to fill a lower heaven up, to burst and burn inside the eye. Then flicks of light, dot, dot, dash - not stars exploding in the trees but something else finishing almost before it first arrived.
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