More commentary than poetry?

Before breakfast there were visions and revisions
Satisfaction, hours away it seemed
As indecision followed indecision
My morning measured out in spooned tea leaves
I sit and ponder afraid, afraid there will be no nend result
Yet that fear drives me on, follow not what is a dream
What will become reality
Tomorrow again I’ll be at my table of words
What better company could the writer in me wish for
Silence, a fresh ink well, vellum sheets a steaming hot brew
In solitude as night decends
Poem, concise full bodied, in my eyes complete.
(c) Chris Black. April 2018


Tex Ritter, Frankie Laine, Duane Eddy : High Noon

Ned Washington was the man. Do check out this post. Let Thom know your thoughts.

The Immortal Jukebox

The Way Out West Series 4

Image result for high noon film poster images

‘High Noon is a magical formula of elements. In two or three bars, the feeling of the song is telling you exactly what went on before, what’s happening now and what’s going to happen later’ (Ry Cooder)

The Ballad of High Noon (Dimitri Tiomkin/Ned Washington)

Do not, forsake me, oh my darlin’
On this, our weddin’ day
Do not forsake me, oh my darlin’
Wait, wait along

The noon train will bring Frank Miller
If I’m a man I must be brave
And I must face that deadly killer
Or lie a coward, a craven coward
Or lie a coward in my grave

Oh, to be torn twixt love and duty
S’posin’, I lose my fair-haired beauty
Look at that big hand move along
Nearin’ high noon

He made a vow while in state prison
Vowed it would be my life or his’n

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Merle Haggard, Dave Alvin & Emmylou Harris – Kern River

The Immortal Jukebox

‘I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river is a strong brown god – sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.

The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities – ever, however, implacable,
Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By the worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.’

(T. S. Eliot – ‘The Dry Salvages’)

The river is a strong brown god.

In our lives we all have many rivers to cross. And, so often, we can’t seem to find our way over. Over to the land of milk and honey. Over to the land of lost content. Over to the home we are…

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