You know that guy? The guy who when you go to his house you have to listen to Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman all night because those were the songs of his youth? Well, at my house it’s just as bad. You have to listen to Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan. Is it a saving grace on my part that I might also play Norah Jones and Diane Reeves, thus adding new voices to the sounds of my youth?
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “songs of youth” or on some topic suggested by the image.
First 50 Words - Prompts for Writing Practice 
I am living somewhere between nostalgia and alienation, somewhere between youth and retrospect. I write the words to the poetry that no one wants to read and move imperceptibly to the rhythms of unfinished prose and unpublished drivel. I have reluctantly seen through the heavy mist into the absurd.
Oh nice, has an existential feeling to it!
This weekend I’m attending my 50th high school reunion. A DJ from the local oldies station will spin the discs, or whatever the equivalent is these days. We’ll know all the words to “At the Hop,” “Heartbreak Hotel,” and “Johnny B. Goode,” and those of us who still can will be on the floor dancing the Twist, Hand Jive, and Mashed Potatoes.
He reflected back upon the time he was editor of his high school newspaper: the dress, the behavior, the attitudes, and most importantly, the music. The songs of his youth were popular on the radio before television was invented. He loved to sit by the lake where the cool breezes bent the shoreline grasses and …
Hi, I’m a writer based out of Montano Lucino, Italia and I discovered your site via https://first50.wordpress.com/2012/09/11/songs-of-youth/. Do you have any helpful hints for up-and-coming writers? I’m working on launching my own website
soon but I don’t really know where to begin. Would you suggest starting out with a free platform like Pixie or go for a paid alternative? I’m faced with quite a few
options and it’s all so overwhelming… What would you say?
The throbing boom of a rap beat blasts through the closed tinted windows of the dark BMW pulling up beside me at the stop light. I looked over but was unable to see anyone inside. The beat was familier but it took a few seconds to recognize the song. I was young when I last heard this one. I rolled down my window and signaled to get the attention of the occupants in the BMW. Slowly the tinted glass receeded and the music increased in volume. When a gangsta type face appeared in the opening i asked. “You still listening to Woo Tang Clan? Dam dog; how old are you?”