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October 2007 Twisting of words and turning of phrases by Robert Cameron Hazelton Covered
It’s a battleship gray, double pocket folder affair that is covered with scribbles (mostly lightning bolts - flashes of inspiration?) and has two layers of yellow cracking tape along the spine because of being so packed with the rambling of a young curious mind. The paper inside as varied as the thoughts: construction paper, napkins, backs of junk mail letters, company stationary from several places, and every kind of notebook paper imaginable. Sometimes I pull out the old vault and open it up reverently, remembering the hopeful dreams of the youth that coursed through me. Then I read the stream of consciousness type drivel I was fond of writing at that time and I laugh my ass off. What was I thinking? But we have to start somewhere right? I honestly cannot for the life of me remember what prompted me to start, but I remember carrying a notebook with me at all times before I was out of high school. My really good friend Joe (guitar playing fool) heard me read one of my poems in class or something and before you know it we were writing songs. Joe used to jot a line once in a while and I have in this old notebook one of the greatest examples of drunken redundancy ever recorded on paper. I’ve kept it all these years ( just about 30) because it always makes me laugh, thanks Joe. The happier I am the more I laugh. The more I laugh the happier I get. The happier I get the more I laugh. I laugh a lot when I’m happy, so while I’m laughing I get happier. I like o drink when I’m laughing and being happy. I sit down happy as can be. I order a drink and laugh. I’m happy because the bartender is now laughing at me being happy. I smile because it’s always been a habit since I find myself happy when ordering a drink. I laugh at the way I smile because I am happy to order that drink. That drink makes me happy to make me happy to smile and then laugh because I am so happy to be laughing. Thanks to that drink I’m laughing and happier than I was before that drink. If that doesn’t convince people to drink in moderation I don’t know what will. I also found one of my old favorites that inspired me to start writing, it is attributed to Anonymous. Look To This Day Look to this day. For yesterday is but a dream Wow it sure has been great going through some memories again. I love words and being creative. I can remember playing scrabble with my Mom and her Mom, they both read voraciously, and helped me learn to love language at a very early age. My grandmother Abbey used to admonish me for my dark poems, she’d say "Nobody will ever want to read that stuff, it’s too depressing." Well I fear she was right but I am what I am. But Abbey was also very supportive, and she used to give me clippings of places to send material (mostly poetry.com) which I did a few times. Most everything just got stuck in this notebook though, including a poem Abbey wrote that I’d like to end this article with. She said maybe someday I could share it with the world after I became famous. Well here it is posted for the whole world to see, hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for believing in me Gram, rest in peace. Thoughts - Abbey Burby 1970 The lightning flashed, the storm raged It was all colors from yellow to pink Put out your hand to someone in need Brothers and sisters we all are Robert Cameron Hazelton lives in Amsterdam, New York and writes AveragePoet.com. |
I
can picture so clearly in my mind a trusted companion from long
ago that listened to whatever I had to say and held my secrets
close, and still to this day is available for me to reminisce
with whenever I want to revisit those days of endless wonder
— my first notebook.
