A poetic eulogy for my mother.
Lyrics by James Taylor The Frozen Man (James Taylor) Last thing I remember is the freezing cold Water reaching up just to swallow me whole Ice in the rigging and howling wind Shock to my body as we tumbled in Then my brothers and the others are lost at sea I alone am returned to
On the Other SideOn the other side, the sun always shines No minutes, no hour, there’s no such thing as time Where the streets are paved with gold and you never grow old on the other side On the other side, everybody sings there’s miles and miles of flowers and lots of pretty things Where
A classic. Everyone should know this song.
My way is not thy way, and thine is not mine.
But come, before we part
Let us separately go to the Morning Star,
And meet there.
I’m not Byron but I, too, have loved a dog.
Lt. Commander Data’s ode to his cat.
“Come unto the Lord with a joyful noise” – that sounds like something an infinite being would ask for!
Dreams Are More Precious Come see, high above. Come see, high in the heavens. A new star shining bright. Out of the darkness, comes a light. Come here, midnight chimes Come here, bells that are ringing And from some distant shore Sounds of a journey, echo on This is the night They say, Everyone wants
Two poems from my pal Deb “DJ” Johnson
A wonderful plaint. Posting inspired by my friend George Seaton’s touching comments about John Guldaman. Amazing lyrics and incredible rendition by Beth Orton.
Thinking about all the loves I’ve had, how our lives twined around each other and how we changed each others path through life.
Tammi introduced me to Rascal Flatts and this song in particular. God does speak to us through music.
Music is so powerful. It crashes through any barrier we put up.
Many people say their mate ‘made them bloom’ – my dear wife Marilyn was much more ambitious. The vines of her work run throughout my life now.
I often hear it said that parents ‘…would give their child the moon and the stars…’ – my father did.
To all of you who have come to ‘sit awhile with me’ when it was the darkest, bless you. Your names are written in my deepest heart, not to be forgotten.
Lovely ode to element 6!
A WWII ballad that is simply amazing. I encourage you to find a recording of it – you’ll treasure it.
Recording of a little music box.
A poem I wrote for my second wife Marilyn after the death of her mother. It has double meaning for me now that she is gone as well. Thanks to my friend Libby Miller for the inspiration.
Screamingly funny twist on Casey at the Bat. From the comments at Wired.com’s live coverage of the Apple event “Jobs at the Bat” by Daren Gray (as largely thefted from Ernest Lawrence Thayer) . The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the older tech that day: The score stood ten to one against, with but one inning
by Van Morrisson Oh the mud splattered victims Have to pay out all along the ancient highway Torn between half truth and victimisation Fighting back with counter attacks It’s when that rough god goes riding When the rough god goes gliding And then rough god goes riding Riding on in I was flabbergasted by the
I am amazed when I look at you I see you smiling back at me it’s like all my dreams come true I am afraid if I lost you girl I’d fall through the cracks and lose my track in this crazy lonely world Sometimes it’s so hard to believe when the nights can be
(see video here) Down a back road Long, hot summer A couple kids runnin’ loose and wild He kissed her She said mister, Take an inch and I’ll give you a mile I ain’t here to do anything half-way Don’t give a damn what anyone might say I just wanna free fall for a while
My first to Tammi, who melted and redeemed my shattered ‘heart of gold’ as my oldest friend calls it. I thank God I am worthy of your love and have a chance to return it.
If I forget, Yet God remembers! If these hands of mine Cease from their clinging, yet the hands divine Hold me so firmly that I cannot fall; And if sometimes I am too tired to call For Him to help me, then He reads the prayer Unspoken in my heart, and lifts my care. I
Up from the Canyon of Death I climb, legs weary and burning I pause at a vantage point and look back Only darkness lies below clouds and fog shroud the trail my lungs burn from the effort of such a terrible climb I sit for a moment in a quiet place remembering shuddering in horror
Sitting the Green Tortoise ballroom having breakfast and this came on the radio. I hear you Didibear. Tupelo Honey by Van Morrisson You can take all the tea in china Put it in a big brown bag for me Sail right around the seven oceans Drop it straight into the deep blue sea Shes as
Hat tip to DJCline. YouTube video (audio with image of record player) Pretty Ballerina by Left Banke I had a date with a pretty ballerina Her hair so brilliant that it hurt my eyes I asked her for this dance and then she obliged me Was I surprised, yeah Was I surprised, no not at
My dear friend Mary Pitt sent me this poem she wrote for her beloved husband. He too, has departed and this poem now has special meaning for me as well. Thank you Mumzee. Yet a While Walk with me yet a while, dear heart, The road is dark ahead I need your light to show
O Wife for my beloved Marilyn Bonita God did smile when we met happiest either had been yet Love had blossomed we both grew each made the other whole and new The wheel has turned and you’ve departed now I finish what we started I walk alone pain like a sun heart like a stone
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams Green Day I walk a lonely road The only one that I have ever known Don’t know where it goes But it’s home to me and I walk alone I walk this empty street On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams Where the city sleeps and I’m the only one and I
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated
by Edna St. Vincent Millay in 1917 All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked another way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line Of the horizon, thin and fine, Straight around till I was come
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. Edith Wharton, Vesalius in Zante US novelist (1862 – 1937) Note – everything in this photo is significant: The chalice holding the candle is one that’s been in Marilyn’s family for generations. The candle itself from the supply
Transcription from Ready to go e-Books free online books. Image of original monument inscription. Inscription on the monument of a newfoundland dog by Lord Byron at Newstead Abbey, November 30, 1808. Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues
I’m a geek. No apologies. Weird stuff gets stuck in my head. The StarTrek: The Next Generation episode “Family” featured Picard and his brother singing a French song together after fighting and then reconciling / drinking. The refrain was all I could remember: Auprès de ma blonde, qu’il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon… SO…
Inspired by this Requiem for VHS Come bear witness to the Flying Head No longer airborne M-wrapped for all eternity Cart him away add an adhesive let him seal the cases of the new media God DV or not DV it is no longer a question. Stop Eject Dispose Farewell VHS we shall rewind no
Squimmy 1989-2007 Beloved of Rebecca and David, departed this 20th day of January. Adopted as an orphan and cared for as family. I knew this sweet girl and mourn her passing. Bon voyage mon petite. I offer the following for her owners: Do not stand at my grave and weep Do not stand at my
For all youse punks.
There are many poems that speak to my heart – this is one that speaks often. The opening phrase is so hopeful, I can only think the author was divinely inspired.
My grandmother was the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She lived in Vandergrift, PA – a steeltown that subsequently struggled after WWII. Depression, war, house fire – life was NOT easy with three daughters after her husband collapsed and died on the steps of the steel plant after a sunday shift. She went on. I
One of Robert Service’s greatest works, IMHO
If you’ve never heard this song by the man who made the song ‘Convoy’ famous, you’re in for a treat. Same ‘storyteller’ style but very fast, complicated ‘lyrics’ (it doesn’t really rhyme) and hilarious story. Get a copy of the MP3 from somewhere, then sit down and TRY to follow along. I dare ya. How
For my pal Anthony Lee on the eve of his first high-speed connection.
I remember Fogerty’s ‘Who Will Stop the Rain’ about the Vietnam War. This song is just as hard to listen to.
by Stan Ridgeway