A double sorrow.

Talk, talk about your worry
Not walk, walk away feeling pain and sorrow
For a mind in turmoil not an easy thing to do
The mind of those in turmoil with nowhere to turn
Is their one and only thought
I have just this bridge to burn.
(c) Chris Black. April 2018

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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
I’m…

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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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What is it about?

Marrying words
Introducing them to each other
Hubbub in the mind
Creates life, death, afterlife
Stirring the senses
Encouraging the reader make their decision
Sentence after sentence
Whether they are reading fake news or otherwise
Take Five musically a la Dave Brubeck
Bockety words suddenly straighten
Poetic medium opens the imagination
To whole new world
For both author and reader
Theraputic in every sense
Lose yourself in another word world.
(c) Chris Black. April 2018

House.

Lost in the country
A living coffin
Family, buried within
Faces
Showing frown, smile, some showing nothing
Bodies
Upright, slouched, douveted up
Footsteps
Tip toeing, stomping, keeping time
Voices
Monotone, raised, whispering, shouting, grumbling
Feelings
Happy, sad, down, highs and lows
The head of the household
Busying herself in the kitchen
Poet, cocooned in his quarters
Keeping a lid on happenings
Master of seclusion, delusion.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.

Heartsong

Walt's Writings

A very special thank you to
my wife Susan for letting me post
her original poetry.

A gift from The Great Spirit
A melody soft and low
Given to man and maiden
Binding hearts and souls

Music felt from deep within
When two hearts beat as one
In perfect harmony they blend
Blessed by Earth, Moon & Sun

In Heaven’s thunder roll the drums
The windswept canyons
Pipes & strings become
From mountain, river & stream
Bells can be heard
All of Nature sings out
The Unspoken Words

So that maiden gentle and warrior strong
Can reach out to each other
When apart for too long
For within them and around them
Resounds the gift of their Heartsong

©Susan Page 2018

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