by Randall Jarrell
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 1 comments
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Burnt Norton (Pt. V)
[Pt. IV here]
by T.S. Eliot
Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.
Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,
Not that only, but the co-existence,
Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still. Shrieking voices
Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering,
Always assail them. The Word in the desert
Is most attacked by voices of temptation,
The crying shadow in the funeral dance,
The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.
The detail of the pattern is movement,
As in the figure of the ten stairs.
Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always—
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
[East Coker]
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: Eliot, Four Quartets, poetry
Monday, May 14, 2012
My Back Pages
by Bob Dylan
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rolling high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
'We'll meet on edges, soon,' said I
Proud 'neath heated brow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
Half-cracked prejudice leaped forth
'Rip down all hate,' I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull, I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, thought, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
'Equality,' I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
'Good and bad', I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Their Hearts Were Full of Spring
by Bobby Troup
There's a story told
Of a very gentle boy
And the girl who wore his ring
Through the wintry snow
The world they knew was one
For their hearts were full of spring
As the days grew old
And the nights passed into time
And the weeks and years took wind
Gentle boy, tender girl
Their love remained still young
For their hearts were full of spring
Then one day they died
And their graves were side by side
On a hill where robins sing
And they say violets
Grow there the whole year 'round
For their hearts were full of spring
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Labels: contentment, joy, longing, romance, simplicity, spring
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Everywhere
by Michelle Branch
Turn it inside out so I can see
The part of you that's drifting over me
And when I wake you're never there
But when I sleep you're everywhere
Just tell me how I got this far
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
'Cause every time I look you're never there
And every time I sleep you're always there
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes, it's you I see
You're everything I know that makes me believe
I'm not alone
I recognize the way you make me feel
It's hard to think that you might not be real
I sense it now, the water's getting deep
I try to wash the pain away from me
And when I touch your hand
It's then I understand
The beauty that's within
It's now that we begin
You always light my way
I hope there never comes a day
No matter where I go
I always feel you so
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I catch my breath, it's you I breathe
You're everything I know that makes me believe
I'm not alone
You're in everyone I see
So tell me
Do you see me?
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Salt of the Earth
by Mick Jagger
Let's drink to the hard-working people
Let's drink to the lowly of birth
Raise your glass to the good and the evil
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Say a prayer for the common foot soldier
Spare a thought for his back-breaking work
Say a prayer for his wife and his children
Who burn the fires and who still till the earth
And when I search a faceless crowd
A swirling mass of gray and black and white
They don't look real to me
In fact, they look so strange
Raise your glass to the hard-working people
Let's drink to the uncounted heads
Let's think of the wavering millions
Who need leaders but get gamblers instead
Spare a thought for the stay-at-home voter
His empty eyes gaze at strange beauty shows
And a parade of the grey-suited grafters
A choice of cancer or polio
Let's drink to the hard-working people
Let's think of the lowly of birth
Spare a thought for the rag-taggy people
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Let's drink to the hard-working people
Let's drink to the salt of the earth
Let's drink to the two thousand million
Let's think of the humble of birth
Posted by Steven A Mitchell 0 comments