Available for freelance writing commissions on a variety of subjects including family history, nostalgic Belfast and its famous people, shops, shoppers & shopping, the golden age of Hollywood (esp westerns) and humorous pieces on life's weird and wonderful. Op-eds, columns, non-fiction book reviews too.
CV of published material available on request.
joecushnan@aol.com & @JoeCushnan
About forty years ago, I wrote a song called October the Fourth. The date has no significance. As it's nearly 4 October, I thought I would share the lyrics.
October the Fourth
Rocking chair and pipe tobacco,
sitting, thinking by the fire,
a photographic memory
with any scene he may desire
from his younger days.
Dark-haired woman reaching out
to hold him by his hand
and his heart is always willing
but his head can't understand
the reason why.
And he says to himself:
"The last time I kissed her was at midnight
on October the fourth, I can't remember the year,
when I have the time to sit and think awhile
I spend the time wishing she was here."
Music on the radio,
playing to an audience of one
and endless living memories
come to haunt him
when the day is done,
and he's alone.
Haunting visions in the flames
of love and times and places,
of people he knew well
among unfamiliar faces,
he sheds a tear.
And he says to himself:
"The last time I kissed her was at midnight
on October the fourth, I can't remember the year,
when I have the time to sit and think awhile
I spend the time wishing she was here."
No comments:
Post a Comment