Requiem For A Guitar Man

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In this journey of life some people touch me in ways I cannot fully explain…their spirit moves me and they become part of my tribe forever. Gary Joseph Modlinski was one of those people…a lifelong friend I met as a young man in grade school. We remained friends across the great span of time and his love for life and music was like a lighthouse to me…. always constant. Gary encouraged my writing and I encouraged his music and we kept going a friendship that would span more than 40 years. We lost Gary this past weekend and I felt compelled to mark that occasion…. and in some small way to honor his life’s journey with my words….he was a consummate musician and he loved to share that with all of his friends…at his core he was a man who knew where he came from and was deeply proud of his roots and his faith and his circle of friends. So this one’s for you my good friend…I wish we could have put some music to it together… but for now words alone will have to suffice…much love…PT

Requiem For A Guitar Man

I listened as he touched the strings
Then heard his guitar’s engine roar
He made us all stand up and sing
Hands and lighters begged for more

Gary told his tales in blazing rifs
He practiced every single chance
Then took us to imagined cliffs
As rhythm freed our souls to dance

He made us feel, those driving jars
Strings woke hidden heart’s desires
On stage in darkened smoky bars
Where the music lit ancestral fires

He was a man who played it loud
Then touched us all as he passed by
And now his stage there in the clouds
To lift our hearts and help tears dry

Gifts bestowed at birth by God
By his choice he made them sweet
As life passed time upon earth’s sod
Until one day where angels meet

My friend for life he was to me
A treasured spirit’s gentle soul
Now my friend your heart is free
The angels hear your rock and roll

PT Muldoon ©2017

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Faded Fame

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The beauty of not being a commercial writer is that I get to write whatever I want however I want to with no filter whatsoever applied to my work by others….I wrote this one this weekend after reading about yet another famous life that ended far too early in the whirlwind of commercial success.

Perhaps Bill Murray had it right when he said: I always want to say to people who want to be rich and famous: ‘try being rich first’. See if that doesn’t cover most of it. There’s not much downside to being rich, other than paying taxes and having your relatives ask you for money. But when you become famous, you end up with a 24-hour job.

Hope you guys like the poem. PT
Faded Fame

Couldn’t stand the spotlight any longer
Life’s path just kept weaving side to side
Couldn’t keep pretending pain don’t matter
Caught out alone on this terminal last ride

Maybe disappearing held his answer
Only death could stop the searing pain
Caught up in life’s storm without a shelter
Just a lonely soul against the driving rain

All the roads that lead to fame and glory
Faded hard with darkened price to pay
And in the end what’s left just sordid story
A soul who flew too high and lost his way

Fame was like the roses in the garden
Here but for a moment then they fade
Hearts too close to fire wilt and harden
Hardly worth the price tag that was paid

Alone upon the stage we’re all just actors
Trying hard to make illusions we hold real
Powerless from all life’s twists and factors
Attempting to stay true as dreams reveal

Time and memory color what will matter
Heading down this trail towards our close
Everything of beauty will someday shatter
As fame dies like the wilting of the rose

Maybe one great memory in the making
All these shattered lives who told their tale
As many souls in pieces faced the breaking
Like ships lost far too soon after they set sail

PT Muldoon ©2017

Rodriguez Line

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A while back I was blessed to have some time to sit with my friend and neighbor Roy Rodriguez, Raul N Polly Rodriguez‘s Dad. Roy is one of those people who always leaves you glad you got to talk. It was a great Sunday afternoon and he took the time to tell me about his family, especially his Dad who came to Michigan from Cotulla, Texas to find good paying work and a better chance at the American dream for his kids. I started working on this one that day and finally came back and finished it. Found a really cool picture on Mindy Rodriguez-Fetzer‘s page of Roy aboard his horse with a rope in his hand…. I love when words match up to a picture….Hope you guys like the poem!!!PT

Rodriguez Line

Just a small Texas town named Cotulla
Where the roots of one family were born
Learning ethic through work around cattle
And the sweet art of true loops finding horns

They started where the water was precious
Moving north to this land lush and green
From a ranch that was measured in sections
To small town where just concrete was seen

Here at the fairgrounds he kept a good horse
As he quietly practiced fine skills with his rope
To pass on a love for the land and the chance
To work at his living filling children with hope

His son Roy built a place just outside of our town
Where herds of his cattle and horses grew fine
And those ponies they bred there became legend
Raised up and trained well in the Rodriguez line

What started quite small in a town called Cotulla
Like most dreams are born in the heart of a man
And the line that it built lead to all who would follow
An American story of those who do all that they can

Time will remember the way from beginnings
This story rolls clear across stretches of time
Of men and of women who followed a dream
And built the foundation of the Rodriguez line

PT Muldoon 2017

K9 Friends

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Friend of mine is facing a pretty rough patch in his life as his dog was diagnosed with bone cancer and is not expected to survive it. Made me think about all the awesome dogs I’ve had and how much joy they have added to my life. Wrote this short verse this afternoon for everyone who’s ever had really cool dog and known the incredible level of unconditional love they offer up. PT

K9 Friends

They give amazing moments
That bring full hearts to bear
Perhaps to share the journey
Or just soothe by being there

We gather them across this life
Some are timid, brave and bold
In the hope they’ll be beside us
When our lives grow grey and old

Their spirit brings a special love
With smile they stir our hearts
Then fill our lives with meaning
As they play their special parts

And each are true and special
All these loyal canine friends
That make our lives much better
With this love that never ends

PT Muldoon 2017

Black and Grey

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Here’s one I’ve been working for a while…finally kind of finished itself. I love all my connections on here because I think sometimes we get to know people we never would in our ordinary life…I like that people in New York who have never been where I have can read my words and find a common ground and in some small way two very different people find a sort of friendship. I have seen a fair piece of the world in my life and what strikes me most is that we have a lot more in common then we’d like to believe….maybe by getting to hear each others stories we will be reminded of that…..we all just want our lives to matter and for our songs to be heard…pretty cool when you think about it that way. Love and Light my friends.PT

Black and Grey

Inside the pain and sorrow
Spelled out just like a song
Written bold in ink on flesh
To make a right from wrong

Everybody knows the drill
Some better than the rest
Of some fork in a crossroad
Where life fell short of best

And spelled out in a story
Inked with black and grey
Trying to make peace with
A chance that slipped away

Perhaps it was a lost love
Or a family that broke free
Maybe it was just that loss
One chance that cannot be

We all live with our sorrows
And seek to make them right
Some write it to remind em
Try and document their fight

The gentle peace of knowing
That others heard their song
Written out in black and grey
To try and right what’s wrong

PT Muldoon ©2017

The Bear

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One of the highlights of this year was visiting Alabama and meeting relatives that for most of my life I did not know even existed….on that trip I met Dave Gallet or Bear as he is known…he is a good friend of my brother Will Beck and it was an honor to meet him and to add him to my circle of friends!!! Bear honorably served our country in the Vietnam War as a member of Special Forces which placed him right in the heart of the action….all these years later his exposure to agent orange has visited it’s price on his body but never upon his amazing spirit. He got his first wild hog this year hunting with Will after a whole lot of effort and commitment to the task……you guys know around here that none of you are immune to my poetry….saw this pic on here of Bear and I decided to pen one in his honor…..”hero” is an overused word in this day and age so when you meet a real one it leaves an impression!! Congrats on your success Bear…proud to know you my friend. PT

The Bear

Gait now slow and struggled
Hard price tag from that war
But he still wears it proudly
This freedom he fought for

His trike fine piece of artistry
The great hunter deep inside
When he’s called up to action
Old Bear’s still game to ride

Age might slow him somewhat
But his smile still fills the room
I’m proud I came to meet him
I hope to visit there real soon

For years he’d hunt the wild hog
Though his body penned in chair
But I heard he bagged a good one
We’re all proud you got him Bear!

A man’s life builds with stories
Told true then lived to tell
Free life made from the dreaming
Be proud you dreamed yours well

PT Muldoon ©2017

Right and Left

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Erik David Wolford and Mallory Wolford are good friends…I poached the pic off their Facebook page and noticed the boots…If ever a cool pic deserved it’s own words this one did….PT

Right and Left

Out in chute gate number 2
Screwed on tight to ride
Laying in the backseat
For one cool wicked ride

Put his boots on backwards
Try to get some extra grip
And ride his bronco special
On this eight second trip

Some guy’s punch a time clock
And others truck and ride
But this lad breaks tornado’s
Built outta blood and hide

When his rides all over with
And he’s picking up the loot
I hope his wife can help him
Put the right foot in right boot

PT Muldoon ©2017

Cool Money In The Bank

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Photo courtesy of Carissa Kluck

Sheila Carlson posted a picture and asked for a poem to go with it……I decided to accept the challenge and give it some words…..Hope you guys like it!!!PT

Cool Money In The Bank

At a fence beside the pasture
Sits my Daddy’s water tank
He put there forty years ago
Cool money in the bank

I played there as a button
Beside new yearling calves
It cooled the humid summers
And gave it’s share of baths

The pipe that feeds the water
Flowed cool out of the ground
And gave us clean fresh water
With peaceful rhythmic sound

And sometimes in the evening
Young cows will stand and stare
There deeply as the water runs
Then stay to drink their share

The place depends on me now
And I’ve come to love the tank
Built to last by a fathers hands
Cool money in the bank

PT Muldoon ©2017

 

 

White and Blue

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Saw this cool pic on Sheila Carlson‘s page and felt moved to pen a new one while I ate my lunch today….hope you guys like it. I sure love them old trucks….they are like time machines.PT

White and Blue

Out behind the woodshed collecting dirt and dust
Fading from the sunlight as it slowly slipped to rust
A Fifty Seven pickup truck made by Dodge to last
That old Power Wagon could really haul some ass

We used it like a tractor always loaded like a mule
Every Monday morning it’d haul our butts to school
That radio was am band them tires were bias ply
On our red dirt gravel road she taught us kids to fly

My memory is still foggy of when she ran her last
But I would bet my savings the last ride still was fast
Parked out with the wagons and other scrap we had
Every time I passed her the sight would make me sad

One day an old guy came and bought her with the pile
Years later when I saw her that photo made me smile
Our old Power Wagon painted up and made brand new
Lean and clean and wicked in two tone white and blue

PT Muldoon ©2017

The Wild

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Last nights new one….Julie Asher Lee I love your wildlife work…thought you might enjoy this one. PT

The Wild

Beneath the secret places 
Beyond the thickest wood
There lives out in the forest
Hidden creatures of the good

They go about their daily life
Not knowing we are near
And live out in those edges
Content to stay right there

I hear their cries at nightfall
While on my twilight rides
And sometimes I catch glimpses
Of piercing eyes and hides

I like that they’re still with us
Just past this edge of wood
To hold some piece of wildness
To search the night for food

The world is ever changing
And they’ll be gone someday
And we will be much poorer
When the last wild fades away

PT Muldoon © 2017