In This Gratitude abounds for Life and the absolute wonder of it.
Comments
Anonymous said…
I want my ashes placed in an old guitar One that has felt the field dirt fingers of old black men on Alabama Porches One that has felt the feeble attempts and fingers of the young With stars in their eyes
Somewhat battered Like me One that has felt the fingers of times caress
Sweet notes And Blues The highs and the lows And everything between Put together any which way
Nothing that has been heard or seen before Like me
Hang it from string Nothin’ Fancy Swaying on one of Nina’s porches Content And one With the Barn Siding Old men in rockers
Let the wind play the strings The rain the melody Slightly different sound in the heat of the day Cool Jazz in the crisp night air
Come hang with me, With us When the music truly begins To play
You know how it goes. All suffering is caused by false desire. I can't tell you just what that desire was, but you know, somewhere deep inside.
You know the title of that piece you've put up top. "Ticket Depot for the Shambala Express", and you see the chain link fence where the train should be arriving? And the rusted galvanized and the, heh, weeds, yes, you do know.
I wanted to reply to your comment you left concerning reservations as the Elk Ashram, but google is going through a glitch - they say, (uh, yuh) traveling worldwide even as I write this.
I was going to say they are booked this season because they are nursing calves in Spring and to ensure their safety, Nature provides rattlesnakes hiding in those trees and scrub. Which is just amazing, isn't it? So badly we want to be up there, but the path is poisonous.
J-Hi, Just wanted to tell you your poem is very touching and meaningful. It emanates with what professors of Creative Writing classes would call "authenticity" which is the quality that makes it real by carrying the listener into your experience. This is what you want done with your ashes, isn't it? And rightfully so.
Anonymous said…
Thanks Nina. I was just carrying on a thought--hopefully adding to it-- that you and Su whispered-- Something about Su's honesty and your ability with the minds, and hearts brush, dovetails nicely-- Very much alive even thought the subject may be coming from the other end of the pen or palette. Maybe what is called "inspiration" is so much more as to where it comes from if we don't seek it roughly--it has to float in on gossamer wings--at times to bloom.
Comments
One that has felt the field dirt fingers of old black men on Alabama Porches
One that has felt the feeble attempts and fingers of the young
With stars in their eyes
Somewhat battered
Like me
One that has felt the fingers of times caress
Sweet notes
And Blues
The highs and the lows
And everything between
Put together any which way
Nothing that has been heard or seen before
Like me
Hang it from string
Nothin’ Fancy
Swaying on one of Nina’s porches
Content
And one
With the Barn Siding
Old men in rockers
Let the wind play the strings
The rain the melody
Slightly different sound in the heat of the day
Cool Jazz in the crisp night air
Come hang with me,
With us
When the music truly begins
To play
Jj
You know the title of that piece you've put up top. "Ticket Depot for the Shambala Express", and you see the chain link fence where the train should be arriving? And the rusted galvanized and the, heh, weeds, yes, you do know.
I wanted to reply to your comment you left concerning reservations as the Elk Ashram, but google is going through a glitch - they say, (uh, yuh) traveling worldwide even as I write this.
I was going to say they are booked this season because they are nursing calves in Spring and to ensure their safety, Nature provides rattlesnakes hiding in those trees and scrub. Which is just amazing, isn't it? So badly we want to be up there, but the path is poisonous.
Love to you.
Jj
Something about Su's honesty and your ability with the minds, and hearts brush, dovetails nicely--
Very much alive even thought the subject may be coming from the other end of the pen or palette.
Maybe what is called "inspiration" is so much more as to where it comes from if we don't seek it roughly--it has to float in on gossamer wings--at times to bloom.
Jj
I love you guys.
Jj