Category: Poetry of Music

Poetry of music: Across the Universe

Across the Universe, by the Beatles (John Lennon)

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me
Jai Guru Deva OM

Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
Jai Guru Deva OM

Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on, across the universe
Jai Guru Deva OM

Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Nothing’s gonna change my world

Jai Guru Deva
Jai Guru Deva
Jai Guru Deva
Jai Guru Deva

Poetry of music: My Sweet Lord, with George

You’ve heard it, so many times…when George first came up with what became his most famous song as a solo performer (rivalling “Something,” with the Beatles), he was reluctant to record such an overt religious message-song: “I was sticking my neck out on the chopping block because now I would have to live up to something,” Harrison explained in I Me Mine.

“But at the same time I thought, ‘Nobody’s saying it; I wish somebody else was doing it.'”

So…he said it.

Mixing Hare Krishna chanting with a joyous Hallelujah, he confounded conventional music at the time by popping out a #1 hit for his first post-Beatles release. Reflecting George’s oft-stated hope for a closer and direct connection with God, this all made sense.

As John Lennon famously told a reporter around this time, “Every time I put the radio on, it’s ‘Oh my Lord’ – I’m beginning to think there must be a God!”

Thanks, George.

Poetry of music: Circle ’round…both sides, now

Back to when it all started…here’s Joni on the CBC in ’68 with Both Sides Now & The Circle Game in the days when her star was rising, and people began to see & feel the way she gave voice to a generation.

When she write it in 1967, she noted where it began:

I was reading Saul Bellow’s “Henderson the Rain King” on a plane and early in the book Henderson the Rain King is also up in a plane. He’s on his way to Africa and he looks down and sees these clouds. I put down the book, looked out the window and saw clouds too, and I immediately started writing the song. I had no idea that the song would become as popular as it did.

Pete Seeger wrote an extra verse for the song, which he added with Joni’s permission in a 1970 duet (here it here) :

Daughter, daughter, don’t you know,
you’re not the first to feel just so?
But let me say before I go,
it’s worth it anyway.

Someday we may all be surprised.
We’ll wake and open up our eyes
and then we will realize
the whole world feels this way.

We’ve all been living upside down
and turned around with love unfound
until we turn and face the sun.
Yes, all of us, everyone.

Meanwhile, The Circle Game is a reminder that young people want to be old, and older people come to a place where they wish they were younger, and either way, it just a circle….

Thanks, Joni!

The music of poetry: from “The Uses of the Body,” with Deborah Landau

There’s a lot to like in this wonderful verse from Deborah Landau’s The Uses of the Body.  I think the line that got me, on my first read – was “See how caught up we are/in our habitual flying pattern,” which reminded me of Pema Chödrön’s note: “No one ever tells us to stop running away from fear…the advice we usually get is to sweeten it up, smooth it over, take a pill, or distract ourselves, but by all means make it go away.” That “advice” helps cement the patterns, so we can dodge that confrontation with fear.

But the body, besides helping define the “flying patterns” that we hold so desperately onto, also gives us the chance to find the real sweetness of life, to give us the chance (as Landau says) to explore both the chance to wake up & illusion. And you just have to like someone who mentions that one of the basic pleasures is Keats.

You’re in for a treat. Thanks for your words & your art, Dr. Landau!
Brother Ian

++++++++++++++++

from The Uses of the Body
Deborah Landau

The uses of the body are manifold.
Lips, fingers, the back of the neck.

One should make as full a use as possible
before time’s up. In Paradise,

you should appreciate. Don’t squander.
Take a deep juicy bite then swallow.

Peaches are meant for tasting.
A lapping up. In Paradise

we lay and many afternoons
brought pleasure and relief.

*

Men look at you like you have the thing they want.
That somber hungry forcefield smack on.

It lies there. Is he aware?
I cannot see where this will end.

I can see where I need to go
but never get there. It’s operatic.

When I lie in bed my limbs go numb.
When the sky darkens.

The urge is there
but also the mandate

to damp it down.
Always the urge.

Always the mandate.
You’re still young, he says,

but youth will burst all at once
and be gone forever.

*

The uses of the body are wake up.
The uses of the body, illusion.

The uses of the body. Rinse repeat.
To make another body.

September. Draw the blanket up.
Lace your shoes.

The major and minor passions.
Sunlight. Hair.

The basic pleasures. Tomatoes, Keats,
meeting a smart man for a drink.

The uses of the body.
It is only a small house. It gets older.

Its upper and lower.
Its red and white trim.

It’s tempting to gloss over this part,
so you won’t really see me.

*

The uses of the body are heavy and light.
Raspberries, cradles, houses in Maine.

Biopsies, second opinions, MRIs.
I am cozy, I am full of want until chest pain,

until a heavy cramp. The pain of form.
See how caught up we are

in our habitual flying patterns
until we have to look the unfair doctor in the eye.

The genitals are irrelevant then.
Dr. Rutkowski, what was it you said?

++++++++++++++

 

Deborah Landau is the author of three books of poems, includingThe Uses of the Body (Copper Canyon Press, 2015).

She teaches in and directs the Creative Writing Program at New York University and lives in Brooklyn.

“Landau’s killer wit evokes Dorothy Parker crossed with Sylvia Plath — leaping spark after spark, growing to deadly dark fire. ‘The Uses of the Body’ is her best book, its acerbic tone (‘The uses of the body, illusion’) interspersed with lines of grave and startling beauty.”  Los Angeles Times

Here’s more about Deborah: http://www.deborahlandau.net/

Poetry: Expect Nothing, by Alice Walker

Expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.
Become a stranger
To need of pity
Or, if compassion be freely
Given out
Take only enough
Stop short of urge to plead
Then purge away the need.

Wish for nothing larger
Than your own small heart
Or greater than a star;
Tame wild disappointment
With caress unmoved and cold
Make of it a parka
For your soul.

Discover the reason why
So tiny human midget
Exists at all
So scared unwise
But expect nothing. Live frugally
On surprise.

Alice Walker

Poetry of Music: Love Song to Mother Earth, with Briar’s Child (it’s everywhere!)

When you hear Briar’s Child (Cassie O’Sullivan and Jon Loyd)’s song “Love Song to Mother Earth,” it’s great – it weaves the images of a planet whose people are locked in a struggle to hurt it (some folks) and protect her from that (other folks).

It offers a frank admission of wonder of her glory while admitting to being scared where this seems to be going.

The video is here as well (if you want to share it)...thank you, Jon & Cassie!

Love Song to Mother Earth from Briar’s Child on Vimeo.

Poetry in music: David Attenborough, with what a beautiful world we live in (a reminder!)

One of the most beautiful songs on the planet is “Wonderful World,” by Louie Armstrong, and some of the most beautiful photographic reminders come from the BBC’s video archives…

Put them together with David Attenborough sharing the words, and you have a quick two-minute reminder that we live in a pretty cool place.

Poetry of music: Across the Universe, with Rufus Wainwright

John Lennon’s version of Across the Universe is a simple, plainitive acceptance of the impermanent world; Rufus adds some energy and wistfulness. See what you think…everybody sing along!

Poetry of music: The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,” with a little help from our friends

So, when you watch this, you’ll be wondering who everybody is – this might help.

And it’s OK to sing along. Way better that way.

Poetry of music: Hallelujah!

You’ve wondered, and I have too, how in the world our Trappist brothers get things done when they have a vow of silence. (Pretty sure they get more of the important internal work done, without all that talking. Spirit within, you know.)

Perhaps you’ve seen this before, but you get the idea. I especially like the monk who picks up the sign with his feet…gotta love football-loving monastics.

Writings: New year’s resolutions for 1942/1943, from Woody Guthrie’s notebook

It’s a bit easier to read, if you click on it (make it bigger, hey – )

And here’s Woody’s “This Land is Your Land” with most of the words, with Pete, Arlo, Judy Collins & Fred Hellerman in 1976

Poetry in music: John Denver, with “Rhymes & Reasons” & the “Prophet”

This song’s royalties have gone to UNICEF since John Denver wrote it, which makes a good song a little bit better, hey – I’ve always been reminded of the part of “The Prophet” by Khalil Gibran called “On Children” when I hear it & sing it, so I’m offering a little mashup here of the two…for you, with the colours of the rainbow & the music of the mountains….

Rhymes & Reasons
John Denver

So you speak to me of sadness
And the coming of the winter
Fear that is within you now
It seems to never end

And the dreams that have escaped you
And the hope that youve forgotten
You tell me that you need me now
You want to be my friend

And you wonder where were going
Where’s the rhyme and where’s the reason
And it’s you cannot accept
It is here we must begin
To seek the wisdom of the children
And the graceful way of flowers in the wind

For the children and the flowers
Are my sisters and my brothers
Their laughter and their loveliness
Could clear a cloudy day

Like the music of the mountains
And the colours of the rainbow
Theyre a promise of the future
And a blessing for today

Though the cities start to crumble
And the towers fall around us
The sun is slowly fading
And its colder than the sea

It is written from the desert
To the mountains they shall lead us
By the hand and by the heart
They will comfort you and me
In their innocence and trusting
They will teach us to be free

For the children and the flowers
Are my sisters and my brothers
Their laughter and their loveliness
Could clear a cloudy day

And the song that I am singing
Is a prayer to non believers
Come and stand beside us
We can find a better way

---

On Children, from “The Prophet” Khalil Gibran

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of Children.”
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.