Tag: songwriting

Falling

One of the most moving encounters in my time in Melanesia was with George. He moved to his village when he was a child from his home island of Sikaiana, which is about 100 miles out into the Pacific. He showed me a tree on the shoreline where he prays every day, but because of Climate Change the tree is threatened by the rising sea levels and he said to me “if the tree falls I will too”. His community only has about 10 years left before their village will be washed away by the sea.

He landed here when he was only eight
Crossed a hundred miles of ocean on the way
Left his island and his heart to make a brand new start
In this strange and unfamiliar place

When he left his boat he sat under a tree
It was only small, like him, but he could see
The horizon far away and he knew beyond it lay
His home, his heart, his history

And the tree grew bigger as the years passed by
And he built a life here under strange new skies
But the tree was watered by the tears he’d cry
For his far off far off home

He watched with pride as all his children grew
And then he watched his grandchildren too
As they laid down their roots And started to bear fruit
In the only place they ever knew

His tree became a refuge for his soul
His confidante, his muse, his hiding hole
He would visit every day to sit, and watch, and pray
To restore his heart and be made whole

And the tree grew bigger as the years passed by
And he built a life here under strange new skies
But the tree was watered by the tears he’d cry
For his far off far off home

One day while he was walking to the shore
It seemed a little closer than before
As slowly day by day the land was washed away
And his tree wasn’t safe there anymore

For the second time in his life he knew
What this meant and what they’d have to do
It was time to move on before his tree was gone
Because if it fell he knew that he would too

And so the tree grew smaller as they sailed away
In search of a new life and a brighter day
But the tears feel freely as he bid goodbye
To his far off far off home

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Waves

As I was preparing for my visit to Melanesia I had a conversation with a priest from Guadalcanal. I asked him about the impact of Climate Change on his islands and he spoke about the work they are doing to protect themselves, building sea walls and moving inland, but then he said “but the waves keep coming”. I wrote this song based on that phrase., the character in the story is fictional but it is an all too real story.

As a child he sailed beyond the reef where all is sky and ocean
He learned to trust the wind and waves, their rhythm and their motion
Out there on the endless blue he fell in love with water
His island was his own canoe, his lifeline and supporter

But the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

He built his house beside the shore, a stones throw from the coastline
Looking out towards the sea where he would spend the most time
Casting out his fishing nets and hauling in his quota
Hoping that come market time he’d keep his world afloat

But the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

It didn’t happen all at once, it took a while to spot it
The slow surrender of the beach ’till nobody could stop it
The water which he’d learned to trust around him now was rising
This skilled seafarer could not stop his island from capsizing

And the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…

He lives up on the mainland now, safe distance from the water
He works a steady job and has a wife, a son, a daughter
But when he sees those distant waves he fills up with emotion
The quiet tears roll down his cheek… salt water, like the ocean

And the waves keep coming and the waves keep coming
and the waves keep coming and they’re washing it all away…
…they’re washing the world away

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Blackbird

Bishop Selwyn appointed John Coleridge Patteson as the first Bishop of Melanesia. He was well loved and respected, but got caught up and killed in a dispute over the practice of ‘blackbirding’, stealing or coercing young men from Pacific islands into forced labour on plantations in Australia—a practice that continued well into the 20th Century. The island where Patteson was killed, Nukapu, still carries the shame of that mistake.

Out in the Pacific there’s a tiny coral island where
A hundred strong community all live off the abundance of the reef
The soil is fertile here and has been for three thousand years
The fruit hangs heavy on the trees, Nukapu giving everything they need

And the waters rise under endless skies
And the blackbirds fly and steal the future away
And the waters swirl as the outside world
Comes crashing in, what will it bring?

Back in 1871 a trading vessel came along
At gunpoint stole five men away and sold them in Australia as slaves
When this cruel deed was done came peaceful bishop Patteson
Mistaking them for slavers too they killed the bishop and two of his crew

And the waters rise under endless skies
And the blackbirds fly and steal the future away
And the waters swirl as the outside world
Comes crashing in, what will it bring?

But when they realised what they had done
They did their best to make amends
‘cos if the violent cycle carries on
Where will it end?

I met a man named Patrick whose Grandfather ran the island school
He told me “we are peaceful men,
Don’t judge us by the worst thing we have done”
But now the rising seas are ending this community
I said to him “forgive me too, this is the worst thing we will ever do”

And the waters rise under endless skies
And the blackbirds fly and steal the future away
And the waters swirl as the outside world
Comes crashing through, what will we do?

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Pacific Sunrise / Sunset

I wrote this pair of songs to top and tail my album of songs and poems from Melanesia. A lot of the writing focusses on the challenges the region is facing but I wanted to draw out the beauty of the place too.

Pacific Sunrise

Morning is breaking over the Islands
A new day awaiting the warmth of the sun
Fishing boats bobbing out in the ocean
Bid their farewell to the stars
Myna birds argue
Kauri trees rustle
As I greet the sunrise on these happy isles

Morning is breaking over the coral
Turtles awaiting the flow of the tide
A frigate bird saunters down from the mountains
As parrots pair off in the trees
Coconuts falling
mangoes are ripening
As I greet the sunrise on these happy isles

Morning is breaking over the village
Children awaiting the long walk to school
Dusty roads bringing vans full of people
Waving as they journey by
Dock workers calling
Worshippers singing
As I greet the sunrise on these happy isles

(c) Rich Clarkson 2026

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pacific Sunset

Evening is falling over the islands
Loudspeakers calling down at the port
Shadows are stretching out from the rooftops
As sandals line up by the doors
Shutters are closing
Crickets are singing
As I watch the sunset on these happy isles

Evening is falling over the coral
Whale song is calling out from the deep
Butterflies flicker with flashes of colour
Under the brightening stars
An aeroplane circles
Ants keep on working
As I watch the sunset on these happy isles

Evening is falling over the village
Chickens are calling out from their pens
Radios crackle with far away football
and children bed down for the night
Banana trees listen
As waves tumble gently
And I watch the sunset on these happy isles

(c) Rich Clarkson 2026

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The Ballad of Jean Stablinski

Jean Stablinski was a professional cyclist, with a remarkable life story. It seemed appropriate to turn it into a ballad!

Born 1932, son of a miner who
Died when the Nazis came – Jean kept the family name
Went to work down the mine When he was only nine
By fourteen he was strong Pushing the trucks along

Under the cobblestones All that he’d ever known
There in the Hell of the North
From humble beginnings he wrote his own song
This is the ballad of Jean, Jean Stablinski

Jean played accordion, entered a contest and
Won his first racing bike – this moment changed his life
He began entering races and he would win
Known for his smart attacks, he’d take prize money back

Over the cobblestones…

He turned professional, rode with Jacques Anquetil
Helped Monsieur Jacques to win just about everything
Then 1962 all of his dreams came true
Jean was world champion, better than everyone

Over the cobblestones…

In 1968 Paris-Roubaix awaits
Jean was asked if he knew roads that they could go through
In his mind he went back to that old mining track
He used to work below, now on his bike he’d go

Over the cobblestones…

Long after he retired Jean was loved and admired
“Friend of the cobbles” he rode his bike until he
Crossed that great finish line when he was 75
Now every year they race past his memorial place and

Onto the cobble stones…

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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The Times They Are A-Changin’ (Palm Sunday version)

Inspired by the anti-far right and No Kings rallies around the world today, I’ve rewritten Bob Dylan’s classic protest song to imagine how it might have been sung on the first Palm Sunday…

Come gather round people wherever you roam
Galilee or Judea, Corinth or Rome
Wherever you’ve travelled from this is your home
Jerusalem’s festival is waiting
And the king on a donkey is one of our own
Yeah the times they are a-changing

Come prophets and teachers, come Pharisees too
And see what the King on his donkey will do
If you’re cheating the poor then he’s coming for you
And he isn’t afraid to turn tables
He will take your injustice and replace it with the truth
Yeah the times they are a-changing

Come kings on your thrones with your weapons in hand
And armies in readiness at your command
Leaving trails of destruction all over the land
As you sit there ranting and raging
But the king on the donkey has peace in his hands
For the times they are a-changing

Come women and men, the old and the young,
The uncertain, the lonely, the prodigal sons,
Let the king on the donkey loosen your tongue
Grab your palm branches high and start waving
There’s plenty of Hosannas left to be sung
For the times they are a-changing

The line it is drawn, the die it is cast,
And the world as we know it will soon be surpassed
Cos the king on the donkey is coming on fast
The old order is rapidly fading
Yeah the last shall be first and the first shall be last
For the times they are a-changing

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Way Home

A new song I’ve been working on, inspired in part by a book called ‘Under Solomon Skies’ by Berni Sorga-Millwood.

She goes down to the river
Searching for sticks in the morning light
She follows her sisters
Into the lingering fog of night
Her feet are unsteady
As the swirling waters reach for her heel
The currents and eddys
That yearn for the sea

They’re finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

She wakes on an island
Brushes the twigs out from her hair
The water is silent
Unlike her rising tide of despair
She looks all around her
Searching for clues as to where she might be
The gulls glide above her
Out to the sea

They’re finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

The sun on its travels
Stumbles and falls into the waves
The daylight unravels
Leaving behind the milky way
And she sees up above her
Familiar constellations of stars
That helped her ancestors
Know where they are

As they were finding their way, way home
Finding their way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
They’re finding their way home

She thinks of her sisters
They’ll be worrying where she could have gone
Then she sees in the distance
A boat with the beam of its searchlight on
Relief washes through her
Wild as the flood that dragged her away
Her sisters run to her
They hold her and say

Come on, we’re finding our way home
Finding our way, way home
Though the way ahead may lead through the unknown
We’re finding our way home

(c) Rich Clarkson 2026

Photo by Ivan Torres on Unsplash

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The Ballad of Tetete Ni Kolivuti

Tetete Ni Kolivuti (which means ‘hill of prayer’) is the headquarters of the Community of the Sisters of the Church in Solomon Islands. I visited TNK back in September and this is a little ballad about this wonderful place.

The soldiers arrived in ’42
With their guns and their packs and their marching boots too
They unloaded their ships and they made their way through
In search of a place to call home
They built a new hill on a flat piece of ground
Cleared the coconut trees from the bush all around
Made a fortified lookout on top of the mound
At Tetete ni Leleu – the Hill of War

The sisters arrived in 71,
The trees had returned now the soldiers had gone
They faithfully followed as God led them on
In search of a place to call home
They built their first chapel up on the hill there
The community grew as together they shared
what little they had with compassion and care
At Tetete ni Kolivuti – the Hill of Prayer

The flood waters rose in ’23
Submerging the land all the way to the sea
And the people all round had to climb up the trees
In search of a place to call home
The hill was an island for several days
Like Noah and Jonah the sisters all prayed
In the swirling of waters as together they stayed
At Tetete lia Kokomu – the Island Hill

For nearly a century the hill has stood
Through war and disaster, through wildfire and flood
As a beacon of light and a wellspring of good
Tetete Ni Kolivuti
This community of sisters still hold on to the spark
in this hill which has been an island, a refuge, an ark,
In a turbulent world where so much is dark
From the hill of war came the hill of prayer
The island hill is still standing there
Tetete Ni Kolivuti (the Hill of Prayer)

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

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Stars

New Song: Stars
This was inspired by a line from Shakespeare that goes
“At first I did adore a twinkling star
But now I worship a celestial sun”

Once I loved a star so distant in the sky
Delicate and far away, so far away that I
Could never reach her
I lost my heart to some celestial creature

Once I loved a bird so high up in the air
Never was a word between us ever really shared
But I could hear her
I lost my heart just trying to get near her

Once I loved a star, a bird, an ocean and a flower
The wonders of the universe so far beyond my power
They stole my heart and kept it safe
until the day when she would give it back to me
Well I wasn’t ready then but now I am and now I know
That reaching out in love is how our hearts begin to grow
And somewhere in the waiting and the wondering
Love will come to you

Once I loved the sea so bountiful and deep
Vast and wild and free I could not ever truly keep
Her or her treasure
I lost my heart in depths I could not measure

Once I loved a flower blooming in a field
I gazed at her for hours but her secrets remained sealed
I could know know her
I lost my heart endeavouring to grow her

Chorus

Once I loved a girl so beautiful and fair
Her voice was like a bird and she had flowers in her hair
Her eyes were starlight
She swept me off my feet like waves at twilight

Now I love a star, a bird, an ocean and a flower
The wonders of the universe so far beyond my power
She stole my heart and kept it safe
until the day when she will give it back to me
Well I wasn’t ready then but now I am and now I know
That reaching out in love is how our hearts begin to grow
And one day when the stars align and constellations roar
And the ocean breakers lay their treasures gently on the shore
And the flowers bloom and bird song rises sweeter than before
Love will come to you

(c) 2025 Rich Clarkson

Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash

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Chronicles

I’ve been reading Bob Dylan’s autobiography ‘Chronicles’ and as I was reading it I found 5 Argentinian Pesos in it which I’ve been using as a bookmark and which felt very fitting for a Dylan book. I wrote this song inspired by a mix of the book and the 5 Peso note!

There’s a hurricane howling off on the horizon
Building like a brass band’s roar
The change in the weather’s no longer surprising
Cos nothing stays the same any more
and I’m sitting here waiting and watching and writing
and wondering when it’s time to go
The lights are flickering and faltering and fading
like fireflies after the show

There’s a train that’s thundering off in the distance
Heading for who knows where
I had my chances and I know that I missed them
They could have taken me there
Now I’m stuck in the dirt and the dust of the desert
and I’m drowning in my dreams
But something inside is still there saying
“it isn’t all that it seems”

So I pick up my pack and I grab my guitar
And I set out towards the sun
Don’t know where I’m heading but I know that it’s far
Away from where I’ve begun
With five pesos I pull from my pocket that I found
in the back of a borrowed book
I buy my ticket, can I also buy forgiveness
for all those mistakes that I took

So I’m out on the road now, this is my life
I’m nothing but a travelling man
I don’t have a home or a gun or a knife
Just a guitar and an unravelling plan
I’m a no-one, a nothing, I never was here,
and here’s where I’ll forever be
I’ve slipped through the cracks of the railroad tracks
and I find that I’m finally free, finally I’m free

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Grant Durr on Unsplash

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Bone Flutes and Cow Horns

This song was inspired by reading a book about the origins of sound and music (Sounds Wild and Broken, by David Haskell) and by reading a dystopian fiction novel which included a line about how nobody makes guitar strings any more (Briefly Very Beautiful, by Roz Dineen). The line “What makes us all human is music” came to me and the rest of the song built from there!

What music will there be when there’s nobody to sing their songs
What tunes will still be heard when the instruments don’t play along
And what stories will be passed on
When the balladeers are long gone?
What will be left when we are not here?

Bone flutes and cow horns and panpipes and rhythms of
Shell shakers, clapsticks and bead covered gourds and the
Joining of voices, what makes us all human is music
Sports crowds and orchestras, buskers and people in
Pubs singing folk songs and carols at Christmas,
The joining of voices, what makes us all human is music

What will the world sound like when the human noise has died away
What will the soundscape be when our instruments no longer play
And what beauty will be missing
When there’s nobody to listen
What will be left when we are not here?

Bone flutes and cow horns …

The tunes that we whistle, the songs that we sing
All filling the air like the birds on the wing
Twisting and turning, enveloping everything
In all of our differences, music reminds us
That there is still so much more that binds us
For thousands and thousands and thousands of years
Just like our ancestors we are still here playing

Bone flutes and cow horns …

© Rich Clarkson 2025

Picture from https://www.nms.si/en/collections/highlights/343-Neanderthal-flute

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Acrobat

I’m not quite sure where this song came from, other than I mentioned a trombone piece called “The Acrobat” in a sermon recently and the music has been on the music stand in my study, clearly seeping into my subconscious!

Without her coat and hat
She tumbles from her flat
Like some strange acrobat
And after that
She sets off down the street
On someone else’s feet
Her tightrope walk complete
So bittersweet

And even though her world is upside down
And she’s falling with the puppeteers and clowns
And though the crowds cheering her on
can see there’s something wrong
They think it’s somehow all part of the show
Little do they know

She’s up on her trapeze
And looking down she sees
The rubble and debris
That used to be
The life she thought she knew
So comfortable and true
But now she swings right through
To something new

She’s coming in to land
As time flows like the sand
Slipping through her hand
She understands
That all there is to know
Is nothing but a show
And when the curtains close
It’s time to go
© Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Robin Battison on Unsplash

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