In a Melancholy Mood

November 18, 2015 § Leave a comment

All of the reports coming out of France and Kenya and Nigeria and Lebanon and some of the responses I’ve seen to those reports have gotten me feeling a little down when it comes to humanity and human decency. A part of me just wants to curl up in a ball and wait for it all to go away.

Instead, I deal with such feelings the way I’ve always dealt with what I feel. I write about them. Hot off the presses (sorry for the long title):

Home Is Not The Place It Used To Be

When I go home, I am surprised to see
It’s not the place that I recall
I look around for common ground
Then realize I don’t fit in at all

I sit and smile exchanging pleasantries
Simply can’t risk going too deep
I search my mind hoping to find
Safe memories they and I can keep

I watch and listen, then it occurs to me
Home is not the place it used to be

When I go home, I always feel kind of strange
It’s as if I do not belong
I start to feel like a third wheel
Asking myself where I went wrong

I don’t know if it’s them or if it’s me
Perhaps a little bit of each
Though my childhood memories still remain
They somehow seem just out of reach

I wish I knew how I could turn back time
Home seemed much simpler way back then
Though time may heal, the change is real
And we can never go back there again

I look around with sadness and I see
Home is not the place it used to be

Home is not the place it used to be

© 2015 Walt Huntsman. All rights reserved.


Blast From The Past

November 13, 2015 § Leave a comment

My wife and I recently made the decision to swap offices. Of course, that meant packing up papers and notebooks and knick-knacks and yada, yada, yada.

Among the things I moved into my new office (which used to be my old office, but that’s another story) were several notebooks of lyrics I’ve written over the years. All of these “songs” had a melody at the time I wrote them, but nearly all of these melodies have been crowded over time into an unused corner of my mind and eventually forgotten all together.

Occasionally, there are exceptions. Although I do not write music per se, I have from time to time attempted to score a few of the songs I’ve written. While moving my lyrics notebooks, I came across one such song, written in July of 1985. Although most of the stuff I wrote back then was garbage, I didn’t think this one was too bad. See if you agree.

Homeward Bound

Where were you when I was younger
Girl, you turn my head around
You’ve got me thinking of you
Always listening for your sound
And when the music’s over
As the night is winding down
Wish I could be with you
But I’m homeward bound

And now that I am older
Remembering lessons never learned
Lost in imaginary second chances
Time which won’t return
When it’s time to judge the fools
I guess I’ll wear the crown
Older but no wiser
Only homeward bound

I know I’m getting deeper
Something I can’t control
And it’s threatening to swallow up my soul
I know I could go with you
But it’s best I go alone
I know if I let you, you could make me whole

Someday you will forget me
That’s the chance I had to take
I know our roads go separate ways
You’ve got a life to make
And as we both grow older
If my life should run aground
I know you won’t be there
You’ll be homeward bound

© 2015 Walt Huntsman. All rights reserved.

Close Call

November 11, 2015 § 2 Comments

I am always writing something down, it seems. A line, a verse, an idea, sometimes even an entire song comes to mind. So when I went through several days without writing anything down I began to worry whether I was suffering from the dreaded bane of writers at all levels – writer’s block.

Now, I could blame it on the fact that my wife and I have, for the last few days, been working on swapping office spaces or on the demands of day-to-day life. The simple fact of the matter is that I had no ideas that led anywhere. Until this morning.

I was sitting with my morning cup of coffee, actually thinking of what to write about. My problem is compounded by the fact that when I write the initial melody and lyric come together, so they both have to work or neither one does.

I was beginning to worry about writer’s block because whatever musical/lyrical ideas popped into my mind were either no good together, sounded like something I had already written, or lacked direction. That’s when the image of a compass popped into my head, and I knew I had something.

The most common compass is the one you hold to figure out your direction. There are also the terms moral compass and spiritual compass. I began to think of an emotional compass, that person who basically serves as your compass in all the senses of the word. I wrote this initial version in about 30-minutes.

True North

Got the call this morning, said that you were gone
Not sure what I’m gonna do how I’m gonna make it through
After all these years, living alone
Is not something I’m sure I can do
You were my compass, showing me which way to turn
Now I must learn to find true north on my own

Just like a ship without a rudder
Tossed upon the restless sea
Wondering if I will discover
Without you here – there is no me

Found your picture in a pile of things
I was gonna throw away
Sat and looked at it and thought of you
For the rest of the day
You were my guiding light, you lit my way for so long
Can I be strong and find true north on my own?


Just like a ship without a rudder
Tossed upon the restless sea
Wondering if I will discover
Without you here – there is no me

Our friends call and try to comfort me
And say in time that I will heal
So many thoughts and feelings battle inside
Not sure which of them is real
Can I ever find my way without you here with me?
How will I see to find true north on my own?

Guess I must learn to find true north on my own

© 2015 Walt Huntsman. All rights reserved.

EDIT: Changed to reflect revised second line of song in final version.

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