When I was representing Fred Neil (from about 1981 to his death), one of Fred’s music business pals (might have been Nick Venet, I don’t recall) was in contact with Frank Sinatra. Sinatra had wanted English lyrics written to a lovely melody Syracuse composed by Henri Salvador (can be found on You Tube) . The music-biz pal asked Fred who, of course, wanted no part of it. Fred mentioned the proposal to me and I prepared the lyric that follows. Fred liked my lyric and forwarded it on to his pal but I never heard from Sinatra. I offer it up now as more of my summer of romantic fluff.

(To melody of Syracuse by Henri Salvador)

A lonely raindrop knows the cold mist
A fallen leaf, the autumn ground
And me, I’ve felt completely helpless
When will I ever come around?

Weekends I drive up through New England
Like going to a lost and found
Hoping to find the smiles I’d lost there
When will I ever come around?

Back when I was myself you loved me
We roamed the Cape, ate lobster tails.
But then you left and something happened.
I felt the wind, go from my sails

Another cup of lukewarm coffee
Another cigarette burned down
I haven’t touched them I’ve been thinking
When will I ever come around?
When will I ever come around?

© 1983, 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved


This post is in honor of Simone Biles’ amazing achievement at the Rio Games.

(Original Lyric in need of melody)

Golden girl.
You weren’t just another little girl.
When people said, “you can’t,” you’d say, “Yes I can.”
“Nothing I can’t do in this whole wide world.”
“I’m gonna be a golden girl.”

In your eyes
Always was a glimmer of the big prize
Telling everyone what was yet untold
“One day I’ll have the spotlight and be wearing gold.”.
“I’m gonna be a golden girl”.

First you thought it.
Then you sought it.
You believed it.
And you achieved it.

Little Miss Nerves of Steel.
Tell me, now how does it feel?
The whole world’s saying
“You’re The Golden Girl.”

© 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg.
All rights reserved


This post continues the summer break with more romantic fluff.

(Original lyric by Robert S. Steinberg to original melody)

We’re all people, lonely people.
Different colors, sizes, odd shapes.
But just people, vulnerable people.
To life’s bruises, and love’s heart-scrapes

We breathe the same air
on this same lonely world.
Alone among the stars.
Every woman, every man
every boy and every girl
knows in her heart

She’s a person, and a person’s
No more precious than the next one.
Wealth may bring a bit of comfort.
But we’re planted in the same bed
when it’s all been said and done.

So, I’ll fill my cup with kindness.
We’re all here just passing through.
Lonely people, as lonely people do.
But I’ll feel less lonely
if I’m the person
who is pleasing you.

© 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved


Summer seems a good time to break from political parody and offer up a little romantic fluff. So, a poem for the romantic spirits.

(Original poem by Robert S. Steinberg)

I still remember when love smiled softly,
Touched me on the shoulder
And I turned around to look, bewildered,
Momentarily stunned by the why.
When love spoke warmly I answered
Love, in a language heard whispered
By children, in daydreams and now,
By you and I.

Do you remember when love smiled softly?
Kissed you on the forehead
Like a morning sun? Giving life
A truth that had been pretend.
When love sighed deeply,
As if to say, “Trust me.
“Believe in what you feel,
I am a friend.”

We came together when love smiled softly
Wed us like two rivers,
Carried us along, one irrepressible flow,
Immersed in the other’s current.
Love smiled, and we smiled back at love,
Softly, as I smile at you today,
Softly, more the river rolls and bends
Softly smiling now, before love ends.

© 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved


(To the tune of “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart).

Trump is immodest, he’s all he’s about.
Wall Street on Clinton has far too much clout.
Punching your ballot, you’ll vote with a pout.
That’s why November gives me cramps.

At least Obama was honest and smart.
He made mistakes but made them with his heart.
These two turn hypocrisy into art.
That’s why November gives me cramps

Oh God please send, John Kennedy back
He had a knack, with words.
What turds!

Loathe both the Donkey and Elephant camps.
That’s why November gives me cramps.


Trump is bombastic, he bellows and rants
Often he blunders, but never recants
Clinton’s a lady, but she wears the pants.
That’s why November gives me cramps.

Trump’s kid Ivanka is lovely to see
Chelsea’s a mother, as sweet as can be.
I’d be less vexed by their candidacy.
That’s why November gives me cramps

The one we vote for, we should admire.
One who’d inspire.
Be proud.
Not loud.

Loathe both the Donkey and Elephant camps.
That’s why November gives me cramps.


Lyric © 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esq.
All rights reserved