Lyric Mimic

I love this song by Iron & Wine, “Walking Far From Home”, which is on the new album Kiss Each Other Clean. Inspired by it, for a couple of weeks now I have been thinking about list poems, which is a tool I think Sam Beam used in writing these song lyrics.

So I decided to use the song as a writing prompt. I started with the first line of the song and a few of its style traits, but the imagery all come from personal experiences, stories, and sights I or my friends have seen. I haven’t worked it into the same syllabic rhythm Sam Beam has for the song, which is mostly 8, 10, 8, 6&4 (10). The last line repeats the last 4 words/syllables of the 6, making the entire line 10. And it’s okay if from time to time the line is 7 instead of 8, or 11 instead of 10, if it still flows right.
For example, a verse from “Walking Far From Home”:
I saw sunlight on the water (8)
Saw a bird fall like a hammer from the sky (11)
An old woman on the speed train (8)
She was closing her eyes, closing her eyes (6, 4 =10)

So here’s my own little writing exercise, rough draft.

I was walking far from home
where streetlights were dim
and evenings breathed wind on my back,
and I saw the moon whisper in Orion’s ear.

I saw on a woman’s face a tear
and a dream written in a book,
pages creased to hide anger and regret.

I saw seagulls shield against lake wind in January
and I saw a sunset fold like red quilts across the sky.

I saw a flame flicker in a coffee house,
two people, four hands, and the wick dies.

I saw a man strum a guitar,
an ache like a thorn in his side,
song of his bottle dreams.

I saw a man drink whiskey,
his father’s voice, his mother’s touch,
and sleepless nights wandering.

I saw a girl hold a man’s hand,
a mother whispered broken promises,
and a forgotten guitar in the back room.

I saw boats sailing west by the lighthouse,
and couples huddled on hillsides fading into dusk.

I saw a painter and easel at sunrise,
a weeping willow leaning lakeside,
a canvas and brush in a box.

Saw a flock flying south for the winter,
Saw a child help a fallen bird,
a broken wing and pillow box.

Saw day lilies bloom in the shade,
and then they were gone.
Saw a hiker climb a rocky hill
to watch the last sunset of summer.

I saw a woman’s hair turn white,
her stories the same every day.
Letters and photos carried in a box.

I saw myself in his glasses,
a father’s smile hidden in his beard,
and people were walking to the market.

I saw a man kick a dog at the door,
beaten and huddled in a corner,
whimper and piss at tenderness.

I saw a girl pluck an old banjo song,
daffodils by the road were swaying
and the crickets hummed the chorus.

Saw a man unhook an ax from a tree,
back bent down to carry it over
to the winter’s woodpile.

I saw a musician on a big stage
and the audience clapped so loud.
She said the devil was in her fiddle.

I saw dresses hanging on a wall,
saw scarves draped on lampshades,
saw a girl asleep on the roof,
her dreams written by the moon.

I saw a black dog walk dizzy circles,
saw a cat chase a German Shepherd.
I saw raccoons feast on a porch,
old woman watching at the window.

I saw a curly-headed man paint a woman,
she was holding flowers like chili peppers,
and he loved her in his dreams.

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