poetry

Squeak

This was written by my uncle, Roger Bodo, after watching the live video of the #WomenMarch to DC.  

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Ghosts that Haunt Me

I autographed a copy of Under a Sunlit Sky yesterday and was reminded of one of my favorites. “Ghosts that Haunt Me” Turned up my collar In a cold November rain Stepped out for a walk… Thinking it would ease the pain The ghosts of what I had done...

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Child’s Call

I wrote this one night for some dear friends after hearing news that they had a major setback in their quest to have another child. I was at a loss for words, so she said to write a song. What poured out over the next 15 minutes or so...

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We are Pure Michigan

From the villages of Michiana to Hancock; from the cities of Port Huron to Holland; and the roads that link them in between- I am the lives of Pure Michigan. The beats of techno and punk rock; the rhythm of Motown and big band; the melody of the notes...

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