Aretha Louise Franklin (/əˈriːθə/ ə-REE-thə; March 25, 1942 – August 16, 2018) was an American singer, songwriter and pianist. Referred to as the "Queen of Soul", she has twice been placed ninth in Rolling Stone's "100 Greatest Artists of All Time". With global sales of over 75 million records, Franklin is one of the world's best-selling music artists.
I just found a farewell to the dsmp song I wrote in my notes ages ago. Idk if I should leave it in my song graveyard or finish and post it... I think some of the lines have potential but it's very clearly a dsmp song. Thoughts?
I remember as a kid I would write songs, poems, to get my mind of such & I think that’s so wholesome. I should go back to writing silly songs for the enjoyment aspect of it.
Plus now I can really draw from personal experience of much more than back then
i want to draw but i want to write but i should play guitar but then again maybe i should develop what to write but i should also write a song and i also want to go back to bed and i think maybe i should finish that thing i need to finish but i need to finish my conversation first and i wonder if i'll still have time for cleaning and laundry and redecorating and rearranging and maybe i should make a cup of tea and have a little treat after and oh that reminds me i want to draw
How do people write such incredible, amazing, heartbreaking, mind-blowing songs that make you cry and laugh and dance and get severely emotionally invested in characters that show up randomly with no proper introduction?
How? I want some of that magic please, even the most sparing sprinkling of dust will do.
since my poetry seems to be getting a fair bit of love, here’s a poem i wrote called ‘kept at bay’
only want me at arms reach
i’ll haunt your window seat
i don’t exist, at that beach
ghost the shoreline, i repeat
i don’t exist, at that beach
freckled skin, summer heat
you can hate me if you want to
burn the letters, burn the world
you can hold me if you want to
tell me sweet things, count me sold
you can hate me if you want to
burn the letters, burn my soul
you can hold me if you want to
tell me stories, make me whole
am i a pretty liar?
jealousy is never fun
am i a pretty crier?
honesty on a bitter tongue
am i a pretty liar?
see through, i’m done
am i a pretty crier?
head on your shoulder, you feel like the sun
only want me at arms reach
i’ll haunt your backyard swing
i don’t exist, at that beach
ghost the shoreline, and repeat
i don’t exist, at that beach
seasalt curls, seaside streets
you can have me if you want to
hold the letters, hold the world
you can keep me if you want to
give me soft wings, watch me unfold
you can have me if you want to
hold the letters, hold my soul
you can keep me if you want to
on your knees, try to console
it’s about those people who treat you like the whole world when you’re alone, but as soon as your dynamic can be perceived by others, it’s as if you don’t exist.
about how all the affection you’ve ever gave feels like a waste, because you’re not being acknowledged properly.
about how it feels to watch someone you love so dearly escape your presence by turning to someone else, because it’s too much to be the versions of ourselves that we only show each other when we’re alone.