The tree

The tree on Fourth and Main
Will turn 80 next week.
Of course the passerby’s
Don’t know or care;
But she did just like
Yesterday.

She was turning 87
Next week and feeling
A step away from heaven
Yet the memory is fresh
Right after school the first
Warm day.

Eighty years ago in spring
Dad said, “We need a tree
Out there this year.”
Mom wanted blossoms
Something purple
And bright.

Dad wanted just a steady oak,
She exclaimed “no shade for years,
And just attracts squirrels”
Ah but we’re here
For the long haul and
He won.

Dad nurtured the tree making
It stronger every year until
It stands tall in a city
Still small overlooking the
Mighty Mississippi
From a hill

So she sighs looking out the window
Its cloudy and no one will come
No visitors today but that’s ok,
Alone like that oak
She sits tall and ponders
Her history.

By Dave Schipper © 2012 Rose Riversongs

Folk Angel

Just a dead Sunday on a business trip
Found me in a park with my guitar
San Diego makes me feel like an old hick
I don’t care, just take a swig of something dark.

I grab a C chord and start a Greg Brown piece
Down the path I see blue eyes in a fine dopplebock
She passes, wow they could sell ads on those cheeks
Two steps along, she wirls around to look back

My innocent hands sweat and I expect a frown
She pops her ear buds out and smiles instead
“Were you just playing, “If I had known”?”
Ok smooth and graciously I say, “Yep”







She laughs to show me her ipod is playing “Early”
Surprised, “So you have great tastes for one so young”
“Oh I love listening to Greg when I’m lonely
For home back in Iowa or just my mum.”

“I know every Greg Brown song, True!
Now you, I’d expect a sappy Jack Johnson tune.”
That got us both laughing, I offered her a brew.
“Sure, but I really supposed to be back home soon.”

Stories shared about family’s divorce when she was one
Her dad ran off and made a success of himself.
“He sent checks but we were all but forgotten
I think Greg’s music saved mom’s mental health.”


I showed pictures of the family in Wisconsin
And recalled Greg in a chainsaw muscle shirt
“Aha” she blurted, “that was the reason”
Mom named me Steele, that’s it; it for sure.”

More common bonds formed like Bohemian roots
Both saw Greg and Garnett at the Great River Fest
Her mother brought him a jar of canned fruits
And Grandad’s Bluff provided plenty of rest.

We shared names, and myspace addresses
I mentioned my journey as a songwriter
“Let’s play the Poet Game behind the fences”
She winked, “Just kidding you could be my father”

An awkward silence followed, so I started playing.
We sang about that little Iowa town, “Early”
“It’s late, my roommate will start worrying.
You know if you were my Dad I’d love you dearly.”

She said, “If I had only known”
My real dad plays cool guitar, is cute
Aspires to sing and write like Master Brown
I’d howl to the moon, rooty toot toot.”

“You are a folk angel brought to me today.
We have to make this meeting only a start.”
She took my guitar and put it out of the way.
Kissed me whispering, “You sweet old fart”

Folk Angel by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs

San Diego park pic
Lips

Reality Slips in

"As he weaves thru the dance floor
Using moves from years gone by
They just don't know what's in store
A stud, a Clooney kind of guy

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For the booze to wear off
When reality slip in
He'll know he's up too late
And it's time to take off.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again



As she dances with her girls so dear
Not a care if some think she's gay
They just bring her the right cheer
It's not he's available today.

When reality slips in
You don't need to wait
For a little fun and spice
When reality slip in
She'll dance til it's too late
She hears he's not nice.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dancers begin, begin
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They will not lose again, no not again

As they meet at the bar by chance?
No b.s. lines, they cut to the matter
Why don't they share a glass and dance
Age makes common sense sharper"

When reality slips in
You don’t need to wait
For a night so fine
When reality slip in
They’ll dance til it’s too late
And share some red wine.

Reality slips in, slips in
As the dance goes on, goes on
Love as sweet as sin, as sin
They did not lose again, no not again

Dave Schipper © 2008 Rose Riversongs

photo credit 2, 3 photo 1 Photo 4

Stereotypes

Stereotypes are confirmed easily
An obese man at the Old Country Barfett
A fart conversation at a teen boy party
A cute thin woman at the natural food store
A curmudgeon old man who is a bore.

Stereotypes broken are harder
Catholics and Lutherans agreeing on Grace
A US President with an African face
Government spending that isn’t a hand-out
CEO’s who care a crap about ___.

I like to shatter stereotypes.
I am a conservative socialist.
I play guitar with an stiff wrist.
I eat healthy but drink cheap wine.
I’m an old fart who let’s his light shine.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2009 Rose Riversongs

photo credit

Old Shoes

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

The leather laces have been replaced
Your wife says they are a disgrace
But they’re with you at the start of the day
A nothing else feels the right way, except

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

As I walk I avoid the puddles of life
Just hop and skip on my daily hike
I smile to the ones I meet on my way
Though I stepped in pile of HEY..

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new

You can judge people by the shoes they wear
Just like you could by their underwear
But right down there for everyone to see
Are my old shoes smiling at me, they’re just

Old shoes, old shoes
Been with you for a time or two
Old shoes, old shoes
Wouldn’t trade them for a pair that’s new


© by Dave Schipper Rose Riversongs 2009

photo credit

Where are you…

Waltz me around the room tonight
Then serve wine by candlelight
You’re suave of course
You prince, you stud horse
Where are you tonight?

That’s thirty years in real time
But you just relived it in your mind.
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

Waltz me around the room
Then get in a bed to spoon
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

Tonight you’re on a mountain crest
Ours dogs are not at their best
We slip in our bags
we make love til day
Where are you tonight?

There’s a twinkle in your eye
A fleeting moment , a surprise
Gives way to silence
Confusion is present
Where are you tonight?

Waltz me around the room
Then get in a bed to spoon
You’re not gone from me
But we look and can’t see
Where are you tonight?

by Dave Schipper © 2007 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credits

Old

Old?

If only the good die young,
What went so wrong for me to be around?
If I’m old enough to know better,
Why do I make mistakes when it matters?

If my life began in September rather than May,
Why don’t we celebrate my Conception day?
If there is true heavenly life after death,
Why isn’t everyone wishing for their last breathe?

If I’m past my mid point in existence,
When will be the day of my last dance?
If I keep asking these questions,
Will God answer out of frustration?

Or just knock me off to get a little silence.


By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs