Wayne Hogan & Andrea Grillo: Wednesday Haiku, #139

 Photo by Bill Gracey

Even
the dragonfly must sometime
rest

Wayne Hogan

Voices by Zenera

as the land holds stories unfold in garden voices

Andrea Grillo

Photo by Garett Gabriel

withered grassland--
once upon a time there was
a she-demon...

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

  Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 181 songs 
 

Lyric for a Lazy Sunday Afternoon: Richard Brautigan

Photo by Alexander Rapp

"A Baseball Game" Part 7

Baudelaire went
to a baseball game
and bought a hot dog
and lit up a pipe
of opium.
The New York Yankees
were playing
the Detroit Tigers.
In the fourth inning
and angel committed
suicide by jumping
off a low cloud.
The angel landed
on second base,
causing the whole infield
to crack like
a huge mirror.
The game was
called on
account of
fear.

   - Richard Brautigan

Photo by Schyler

lying down
it looks like a handball...
spring mountain 

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

Lillie poem archive

 

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

 

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 181 songs 

Olivier Schopfer & Anitha Varma: Wednesday Haiku, #138

Photo by Liam Quinn

 

morning clouds
the geometric flight
of cormorants

Olivier Schopfer 

Photo by Meena Kadri

shelling peas…
temple bells
through the twilight

Anitha Varma

Photo by Broken Sphere

evening bell--
even the clouds convene
at the temple

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

Lillie poem archive

 

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

 

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 181 songs 

Dust in the Wind: Issa's Sunday Service, #181

Photo by Dorothea Lange

 In case of wonky widget, click here

This week's song, Dust in the Wind by Kansas, has an interesting back story and curious connection to literature. Here is a studio interview with Kansas' composer and guitarist  Kerry Livgren on the composition of Dust in the Wind, courtesy of the
Wayback Machine Archive:

"More people seemed to identify with what I said in that song - and that really surprised me.  Cause in a way, that's kind of a dismal song, you know?  I was reading a book on American Indian poetry one day, and I came across that line - this American Indian said "for all we are is dust in the wind."  And I thought, well, you know,that's really true. Here I got all this success - I've got material possessions - I've got a goal in my life that had been accomplished at that point, but I'm going back into the ground - and what does this really mean in light of that? And that's really kind of the message of that song, but the amazing thing was that so many people identified with that." -  Kerry Livgren, Kansas guitarist.

You've got to wonder just what book of Native American poetry Livgren is referring to. The year of the song is 1977.  Perhaps it was a well-known Native American anthology of tje time, Shaking the Pumpkin, edited by Jerome Rothenberg, which came out in 1972 and has been since reissued. There were certainly many others but this was both influential and, speaking from experience, you seemed to see it  everywhere, at least if you roamed the poetry sections in bookstores of the day.

The following, from a Wikipedia article on the song, references some other possible inspirations for the song, whether or not they were foremost in the composer's mind.

"Dust in the Wind" was one of Kansas' first acoustic tracks; its slow melancholy melody and philosophical lyrics differ from their other hits such as "Carry On Wayward Son" and "Point of Know Return". A meditation on mortality and the inevitability of death, the lyrical theme bears a striking resemblance to the well-known biblical passage Genesis 3:19 ("...for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."), as well as to the famous opening lines of the Japanese war epic The Tale of the Heike ("...the mighty fall at last, and they are as dust before the wind."), but the actual inspiration was from a book of Native American poetry, which includes the line "for all we are is dust in the wind."[2] Also, the 1973 song Karn Evil 9 (3rd Impression) by Emerson, Lake & Palmer has repeated 'dust' and 'wind' themes, and uses exactly the same phrase "dust in the wind".  Wikipedia.

Whatever its origins, the song seems to strike a deep, universal chord with audiences across genre lines.

~~~~~~~~~~

Japanese Woodblock - Artist Unknown

butterfly flitting--
I too am made
of dust

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 181 songs 

Elitism

Photo by J. C. Butler

Elitism is an odd, sometimes funny, ofttimes sad, thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Walking about, you might stumble on a meadow full of daisies when emerging from a darkened wood. All seem the same; they are all quite lovely, having a collective presence, a certain oneness.

Cutting through the meadow, you see in the near distance a road, perhaps one you've taken before. There is a ditch, or trench, that runs along the side of the road, and there is a single daisy, near an adjoining culvert, in its full splendor.

This daisy stands out, errant though it may be. You - we - are attracted to it: it seems, somehow, finer than the rest.

Behind us now is the meadow, resplendent with daisies. Ahead, a ditch, with a single daisy, a daisy that stands out.

             

                    every
                    single
                    petal

                    every
                    one

Photo by Denise Lynn R.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artwork by Okuhara Seiko



 

filling in

for temple flowers...

a willow

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

 

Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 180 songs

Wayne Hogan & Susan Constable: Wednesday Haiku, #137

 Photo by Anna

The room shifts
the lemon tree shines
hope behind the horizon
there

Wayne Hogan

 

Art by Utagawa Kunisada

fenced in –
a horse knee-deep
in daisies

Susan Constable

Photo by Weber Art, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

sunset--
tears shine in a frog's eyes
too

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 180 songs 

Richard Cory: Issa's Sunday Service, #180

E. A. Robinson

In case of wonky widget, click here

If it lacks the subtlety of Paul Simon's own later work, "Richard Cory," by Simon and Garfunkel, has some of the power of the original Edwin Arlington Robinson lyric. Still, it is remarkable how little of that original is retained: more the idea of the poem than the actual words themselves. Like a screenplay for a popular novel, the song itself is, if anything, a translation, a rendition of the poem. 

First comes Arlington's poem, than Simon's song. Comparing them is a real lesson in process.


Richard Cory By Edwin Arlington Robinson

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.  


Richard Cory (song) - Paul Simon

They say that Richard Cory 
owns one half of this whole town,
With political connections
to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, 
a banker’s only child,
He had everything a man could want: 
power, grace, and style.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

The papers print his picture 
almost everywhere he goes:
Richard Cory at the opera, 
Richard Cory at a show.
And the rumor of his parties 
and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy 
with everything he’s got.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

He freely gave to charity, 
he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage
and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder 
when the evening headlines read:
Richard Cory went home last night 
and put a bullet through his head.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I’m living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory 

About Robinson's poem, Ellsworth Barnard cuts to the chase:

We need not crush this little piece under a massive analysis; a few more or less obvious comments will suffice to show how carefully the poem is put together. The first two lines suggest Richard Cory's distinction, his separation from ordinary folk. The second two tell what it is in his natural appearance that sets him off. The next two mention the habitual demeanor that elevates him still more in men's regard: his apparent lack of vanity, his rejection of the eminence that his fellows would accord him. At the beginning of the third stanza, "rich" might seem to be an anticlimax—but not in the eyes of ordinary Americans; though, as the second line indicates, they would not like to have it thought that in their eyes wealth is everything. The last two lines of the stanza record a total impression of a life that perfectly realizes the dream that most men have of an ideal existence; while the first two lines of the last stanza bring us back with bitter emphasis to the poem's beginning, and the impassable gulf, for most people—but not, they think, for Richard Cory—between dream and fact. Thus the first fourteen lines are a painstaking preparation for the last two, with their stunning overturn of the popular belief.  

I do love Barnard's caution that we need not crush the poem.

Simon is arguably the finest popular songwriter of his generation, a success that stands up remarkably well over the years. In "Richard Cory (the song)," the listener realizes right away one of the central points that Barnard makes: the distinction between Cory and regular folk. In fact, Simon brilliantly telescopes this into a first person narrator in the chorus. In so doing, he simultaneously captures the essence of the poem, pulls the reader in, and retains the big shoe drop ending.

Thanks so much for the reader suggestion of this song.

~~~~~~~ 

Woodblock by Yoshitoshi Tsukioka

nightingale--
for the emperor too
the same song

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues
 

Lillie poem archive

 

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

 

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 180 songs 

Rumi & Shinkichi Takahashi: Two Poems for a Friday Afternoon

Photo by Trabajo Propio

I have lived on the lip 
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I've been knocking from the inside!

     Rumi  (quatrain #1249)
     translated by Coleman Barks  

Photo by Mathias Karlsson

 

Potato

Inside of one potato
there are mountains and rivers.

   Shinkichi Takahashi
   translated by Harold P. Wright 

Sometimes, on the surface, it would seem that two poems share little in common. But that's on the surface. What might be their relationship? Is it purely the mind that dovetails their separate meanings, or is it something else?

Certainly, they are both mystical.

These two poems, by two poetic masters, somehow ended up on my radar within the same week. They seem, in a mere 4 and 2 lines respectively, to contain universes. 

Let's leave it at that, eh?

This journey is certainly scenic.

~~~~~~~

 

The Moon and the Milky Way by Yoshitoshi

 

looking pretty
in a hole in the paper door...
Milky Way

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

 Lillie poem archive

 

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

 

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 179 songs

Elizabeth S. Lamb & Arvinder Kaur: Wednesday Haiku, #136

Photo by Vizu

talk of UFOs--
at a nearby table a diner
winks

Elizabeth S. Lamb

 

Photo by las-initially

father's spectacles
on the dusty side table--
an unsolved crossword

Arvinder Kaur

Artwork by Hokusai

old pine--
my own life's autumn
fills my eyes

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

* Special thanks to Miriam Sagan for sending along the Elizabeth Lamb haiku and securing permission.



best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

 Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 179 songs

Burn It Down: Issa's Sunday Service, #179

 In case of wonky widget, click here

I've long had a thing about Dexy's Midnight Runners - the band known solely for "(Come On) Eileen" - whose other work, represented here by "Burn It Down," is at once quirky and wonderful.

 
I could probably talk till I'm blue in the face and convince next to nobody, so I'd rather post pictures of some of the Irish luminaries mentioned in this week's tune.

I've long been looking for an excuse to publish a picture of the incandescent Edna O'Brien.

The  Behan/Gleason coupling is perhaps mighty strange, unless one considers this:

And just how the heck did Gleason make it into two photos of a post that has nothing to do with him?

While we're at it, just what is it we are supposed to be burning down, anyway?

 

"I'll only ask you once more / you only want to believe"

Arguably the first great modern novel and the master who wrote it conceived of the idea of representing death with a black page. What must have the clergy thought - what's that, he was a clergyman?

"Shut it. You don't understand it."

Burn It Down

I'll only ask you once more
You only want to believe
This man is looking for someone to hold him down
He doesn't quite ever understand the meaning

Never heard about, can't think about
Oscar Wilde and Brendan Behan,
Sean O'Casey, George Bernard Shaw.
Samuel Beckett, Eugene O'Neill, Edna O'Brien and Lawrence Sterne.

I'll only ask you once more
It must be so hard to see.
This man is waiting for someone to hold him down
He doesn't quite fully understand the meaning.

Never heard about, won't think about
Oscar Wilde and Brendan Behan,
Sean O'Casey, George Bernard Shaw.
Samuel Beckett, Eugene O'Neill, Edna O'Brien and Lawrence Sterne.
Sean Kavanaugh and Sean McCann,
Benedict Keilly, Jimmy Hiney
Frank O'Connor and Catherine Rhine.

Shut it. You don't understand it
Shut it. That's not the way I planned it
Shut your fucking mouth 'til you know the truth.


Poor old Johnnie Ray, indeed.

One day, everyone must bow west.

~~~~~~

Photo by Aranya Sen

with one voice
their mouths open wide...
frogs

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,

Don

PS. Get 2 free issues. Get 2 more free issues

 Lillie poem archive

Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 178 songs