Easter Sunday
Woodbury, Tennessee
The year of our Lord Nineteen Eighty-Something
Sunny, swirling pinkish clouds overcast
Too many patrons for the old Church upon that Hill to contain

Outside service
Just this one time a year
Even Dad’s there, though it’s not a swipe at God
But rather the denomination
A Baptist married to a Church of Christ-coin toss lost

Kids fidget
In new itchy pastel dresses and suits
Especially this one, dragging his feet all the way to town
An Easter basket that morn
Full of chocolate candy and a toy helps the day go down

Sunday dinner
At Granny and Pa’s
Became the highlight as time went on
When I couldn’t be forced
Into itchy new suits, polaroids or a doctrine’s narrow walls

Good Friday
Her Saints presiding o’er
Our troubled years struggling as we make passage
Unlike the Rebel Jesus
Lucky for us no one wrote about our rambunctious years

Grandpa Bryson
And Grandma, from the Elkin’s clan
Reside o’er a feast held for a mob of hungry freckled kids
The Irish, Scots and English
Have all made peace in our blood as we break bread

Ides of March
Are now past us this Spring
Wild rabbits after a long winter ready to play
Tornadoes buzz
But we are arisen, Oh Lord are we arisen

~Stephen Simmons




The days last gasp
Of honey and amber streaked across the sky
Squeezed out of sundown
Reflecting down the highway
Lighting up the high wire lines

Stretched out like a golden lasso
Reaching around the Earth
And if you could wrap it all the way around this world
It would finally have to tell you the truth

The Sundowners beginning to mumble
The morning’s coffee pot stale
The smell of dried bacon grease from the morning’s breakfast
The crickets beginning their evening serenade

A hide and seek sunset teasing you the day wasn’t good enough
As if to say “wait…not yet”
Till peekaboo’s light streaks sneak behind the tree line finally
“Ok, now I’m through”
It’s time for the night to see what it can do

~Stephen Simmons




We met on Memorial Day weekend
In the year of our turmoil, 2008
In a rather unlikely place
Somehow at the beginning of summer
Love managed to bloom
Under an unaffected Missouri Moon

I am more or less the same as I was then
Just nine fewer years of behaving the same way
I still drink and too much red wine still gives me migraines
And I still like to drink too much of everything
But I promise I am trying to stay off the whiskey these days

She taught me about elephants and Big Sur
I taught her about George Jones, Guy Clark and Bukowski
I walked by my bedroom door one day
She was on her knees fixing her hair in the full length mirror
She looked up and said “what?”
I was staring
I could not get the words, floating in the thought bubble above my head out into existence,
They choked me, startled me
“I’m gonna marry this girl someday”

I called you crying when I lost my Grandfather
Though I knew you were still mad at me
He was a veteran of the Great War
My link to that greatest generation
He will always have to share this holiday with you
One might bicker or quibble and take issue
But he was fond of you and definitely would approve

Yet now here I am more than a day late and a dollar short
This proverbial “One that got away” is more of a whopper than the one that gave Jonah a ride for forty nights and forty days
There is a new baby elephant on the way
But it’s not mine

From the stage at Mojo’s
To sunset goodbyes on the Katy Trail
To nights at Half Moon Bay
And falling in love with that silly black dog

Yes, many days late and many dollars short
Nine more years of living life the same way
Continuing to pour life’s blood oil down in that funnel
Trying to keep the engine reliably running
Always in fear of it overheating, locking up, stranding me on the side of that blue highway

So go out America
Grill your hamburgers and hotdogs and drink your domestic light beers
And raise a toast
And let’s all go decorate our graves

~Stephen Simmons

Born On The 4th of July

Happy birthday America,
Well, technically it was two days ago (but let’s not quibble about that). At any rate, it’s your special day. I was born here in Tennessee, and though we didn’t exist on your first big day, you kinda grew into us. I recently read that they celebrated with 13 toasts to symbolize the 13 colonies independence and later 13 cannon shots. We have way exceeded the 13 states and maybe that’s why we make so many toasts on this day (light beer is mostly water after all). However, our fireworks seem to represent every man, woman and child amongst our 300 million people now and not how many colonies we have. Being from Tennessee, I know quite a bit about fireworks. We’re kinda famous for them. From bottle rocket fights as teens to the quarter of a million people who will file into the state capital today to watch the massive display; we have got it covered. Like anything born over two hundred years ago, we have slowly (if painstakingly at times) grown and evolved. We’re technically still the young kid on the block though, and we sometimes act our age. Recently we seem to be in more of an argumentative mood than usual. But I’m just a babe, a tiny branch in your sprawling tree and I might not see the big picture. One thing that always sticks out to me is the fact that John Adams and Thomas Jefferson; those two longtime political rivals, both died on your 50th birthday; 5 hours apart. From his deathbed Adams famously uttered his last words “Jefferson survives”, though ironically he did not. But the argument did. The long argument about who and what we are. We are still having it. Because unlike most things that preceded us, we are an idea and not a place. I still think a very good idea and one that I truly still believe in.  I don’t bring this up to raise a fuss on your big day, just trying to find a little bit of perspective on a day that should offer a little reflection. So let’s grill some dogs and raise our glasses for fifty toasts and drive all the dogs in the neighborhood to sheer terror with our normal fervor for blowing things up in the sky. Tomorrow we can roll our sleeves up and go back to work.


July 4th, 2018



Election Day

Only the one you love can break your heart. I love America; my country. And this morning about 7 am Norway time, she broke mine. She’s broke it before. She’s also given me years of love and I seek to be a good partner and understand her, but she can be emotional and nonsensical to me sometimes. I am a liberal, a progressive, whatever you want to call it. So I’m always distraught when the things I believe in don’t move forward; but this time feels different. I’m a writer, and to me words matter. There have been things said by the President elect about my fellow citizens that trouble me, and they can’t be taken back (even if they were rhetorical). If you voted for him, of course I’m not mad at you, I understand why you’re frustrated; I just don’t think he’s the answer. Still, we have a Constitution. We are a republic. And the voters have spoken. I have been talking with my Dutch, German, Swiss and Norwegian friends about how this was even possible. I still didn’t expect it to happen. This morning I awoke at 6am and grabbed my phone to see what was happening and was stunned to see how it was looking. I got up and showered and walked around sub zero Ringebu’s snow covered streets looking for a cup of coffee but nothing was open. By 8 she had conceded. At 9 the bakery below the B&B was open and I finally got the caffeine my brain was craving and a breakfast roll that went down uneasy with my queasy stomach. Nothing to do but continuously refresh my phone till the train at 10. I have family and friends who voted for the new President. They already know I disagree with them, I still love them. I hope those of us very worried about him are wrong. There has to be rule of law for our Democracy to continue. We’ll see. And I have to wonder if the situation were reversed would they do the same? I guess I have to believe they would. I have to hope. This morning on the train down to Oslo, I didn’t realize I had to change at Lillehammer and had hurried off grabbing my guitar and suitcase and trying to not get stranded in the cold; I left my gloves on the train. I ran back to grab them since there were still a few minutes. The conductor had already found them and was walking them back to me. “Thanks” I said. “American?” He replied. “Yes”. Apparently my face and eyes told the story in my heart. “I’m very sorry” he replied. I looked in his eyes and said “Thank you”.  I couldn’t tell him how much a little bit of compassion meant to me this morning. Even if it came from another Country. I’m not home experiencing this in real time with my fellow citizens. Maybe it’s harder to heal far away? I have a job to do today, so I’m gonna go do it (mine’s playing songs), just like every other American. That’s what we do, roll up our sleeves and go to work. Try to make life a little bit better. We have a lot of work to do America. Now more than ever. I pledge to do more, and encourage others to as well to make our Union stronger. I still think we are stronger together. So as I type this on the train trying to sum up how I feel, I become a bit homesick. But I’ll see you at Thanksgiving America.




I have been looking for the truth
As a child it was everywhere
It danced on my shoulders late at night
While I drew
And made up characters and stories
Till someone made me go to bed

It pushed me alone in the woods
To explore the next creek
The next clearing, the next rock to climb up to
The next entrance to a long forgotten cave
It knew what I loved
It gave me confidence that I knew what I loved
And what loved me

But then it started leaving me
And I saw less and less of it
It still came around every now and then
Late at night in the Factory working alone during college
In the mountains of Asheville with my best friend
When my first nephew was born
As an adult it has been much more difficult to find
I caught a glimpse of it again in the mountains above Milan in Italy
The one year anniversary of 9/11 in the bottom of a bottle of Canadian whiskey
Staring at a blank television screen
Lying on my back on the side of the road in Oklahoma staring at the stars
With a broke down van and Jimmy Webb singing in the background
like some Phantom of an Okie Opera
Staring out at the ocean off Highway One in Northern California
In the tasseled blonde locks on a girl who had no idea
Just how fast the Earth was falling beneath my feet
On a stage in Holland with a guitar in my hand
On top of a mountain in Idaho with old friends and the wind whispering lyrics in my ear
It seems these days it’s easiest to find up high on a mountain
Or near the water
Or family

There is a corrosion with age that occurs in our connective tissue
It slows down the truth trying to feed us through its’ conduit
Slowing down our ability to connect us to our source
Don’t slow down

~Stephen Simmons