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Wick ~ The Secret Garden Original Cast

I Wanna Be Like You ~ The Sherman Bros. (from The Jungle Book)

Well, thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. =]

This is my response to the first challenge of the Poetic Proliferation group. I'm kinda happy with how it turned out, so I thought I'd post it here, along with an encouragement to join the group if you haven't already. Cheers! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Naturally, there are things that set poets apart, And naturally is usually how they're aquired. I'll list out a few, though it's a hard list to start. Don't think it's complete, and don't think it's inspired. They know they discover their works; they don't make them. They have mental erasers like stone masons' tools. They don't guess what's inside of words till they shake them. They have a respect for the rules. (But they know how to break them.) Their hands are well-versed, and their ears are well-chorused, Their brains catch the details that get past the eyes. They know that if a tree falls alone in the forest, It cries. They think with their hearts and feel with their heads, They write with their ears like a ragtime musician. They order their phenomes from violets to reds, Then work from both ends to whittle down their composition. Anything a poet says or writes is a poem. They just think harder about some before they show it. And, by virtue of that, that is what they become, Since we call one who writes and tells poems a poet.

Methinks my Muse is but a cruel prankster. My mind, all clad in black (it then a mourner For inspiration lost), turned 'round a corner And fast was clasped by Need to Write. The Gangster Held my brain at gunpoint. Deep in angst for Sweet release, I begged my heart's Sojourner To find for me some glorious page-adorner, The words of which I'd owe him endless thanks for. Thus went his plan to give my hand direction. My Muse, it seemed, through such great pains had drawn it, And, surely, greatness springs from great infection. I staked my time and sanity upon it, Expecting epic words of sweet affection. But all it gave me was this pointless sonnet.

Kind of Woman - Stephen Schwartz

I Crush Everything - Jonathon Coulton

Some of my favorite lyricists write for the stage and screen. Howard Ashman, Tim Rice, Stephen Sondheim, Stephen Schwartz, etc. Stephen Schwartz (Pippin, Wicked, Prince of Egypt, Enchanted) is always a big inspiration for me. This is something he wrote for the musical "Pippin." "When you are as old as I, my dear, And I hope that you never are, You will woefully wonder why, my dear, Through your cataracts and catarrh, You could squander away or sequester A drop of a precious year; For when your best days are yester, The rest're twice as dear." Posolutely brilliant!