Poetry & Music Mash Up: Twenty Questions - Jim Moore + Holding on to Good - Delta Rae

 

be thankful oliveandbirch

Holding On To Good

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Twenty Questions

Did I forget to look at the sky this morning
when I first woke up? Did I miss the willow tree?
The white gravel road that goes up from the cemetery,
but to where? And the abandoned house on the hill, did it get
even a moment? Did I notice the small clouds so slowly
moving away? And did I think of the right hand
of God? What if it is a slow cloud descending
on earth as rain? As snow? As shade? Don't you think
I should move on to the mop? How it just sits there, too often
unused? And the stolen rose on its stem?
Why would I write a poem without one?
Wouldn't it be wrong not to mention joy? Sadness,
its sleepy-eyed twin? If I'd caught the boat
to Mykonos that time when I was nineteen
would the moon have risen out of the sea
and shone on my life so clearly
I would have loved it
just as it was? Is the boat
still in the harbor, pointing
in the direction of the open sea? Am I
still nineteen? Going in or going out,
can I let the tide make of me
what it must? Did I already ask that?

Song of the Day: History's Door - Husky

Husky

History's Door

I can't tell you how many times I've sung along with this song. Today, I actually heard it.

Life is like that. You search and search for the answer, and it's been in front of you all this time, but you refused to see it, until today.

Free your heart
That is the hardest part,
He says, “Your heart won't lie.”

Find your hope forget your home
Heed that feeling in your bones
For your heart knows you'll never win
Until you’re free from him

Don't look back
There is no use in wondering
Just how or why
If you leave now
You might just make it home
Before the morning light

Poem Therapy: Butter - Elizabeth Alexander

Butter
Elizabeth Alexander

My mother loves butter more than I do,

more than anyone. She pulls chunks off

the stick and eats it plain, explaining

cream spun around into butter! Growing up

we ate turkey cutlets sauteed in lemon

and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles,

butter melting in small pools in the hearts

of Yorkshire puddings, butter better

than gravy staining white rice yellow,

butter glazing corn in slipping squares,

butter the lava in white volcanoes

of hominy grits, butter softening

in a white bowl to be creamed with white

sugar, butter disappearing into

whipped sweet potatoes, with pineapple,

butter melted and curdy to pour

over pancakes, butter licked off the plate

with warm Alaga syrup. When I picture

the good old days I am grinning greasy

with my brother, having watched the tiger

chase his tail and turn to butter. We are

Mumbo and Jumbo’s children despite  

historical revision, despite

our parent’s efforts, glowing from the inside

out, one hundred megawatts of butter.

 

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When my daughter was a toddler, she would eat an entire stick of butter if I let her. She loved butter on absolutely everything. Now that she's older and more health conscious, she eats butter sparingly. All of the food I am preparing for dinner tomorrow require generous portions of butter.

 

Butter makes everything better.

 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, the United States day of thanks. I have so much that many times I take it for granted and forget to be grateful.

 

I am grateful for my daughter, my step children and grandbabies, my family and friends, my dogs, my imagination, my health, my too big home, my freedoms too numerous to count, my possessions that at times possess me, my work, my talents that I sometimes ignore until they rebel and demand attention, for second chances to remake the world according to me, for possibilities.

 

What are you grateful for?

 

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Song of the Day: Sugar Sand Stitched Lip & The Hale and The Hearty - Heyward Howkins

Heyward Howkins

Have a listen to both of these:
Sugar Sand Stitched Lip & The Hale & The Hearty

I haven't posted a song of the day for quite a while, but this weekend Heyward Howkins showed up in my inbox. I'm not sure how this happens, especially since my tiny blog is something of an online journal/ramble, but I'm very happy the singer and his music did.

I spent the day listening to Heyward, and watching his videos, most of them filmed by BITBY - bands in the backyard.

I watched the Sugar video first, which I assume is a reimaging of the selkie legend in a post-apocalyptic world, but it was the second video I watched, with Heyward playing his guitar on a deck in a Blues Brothers suit, lily pond as back drop, somewhere in New Jersey, that got my attention. He didn't skip a beat when the white noise of a passing plane overhead almost drowned him out around 1:20, but just leaned hard into the music. When he closed his eyes and stamped out a beat, then whistled a riff, well, that's when I kicked off my shoes and settled right in.

An interesting biographical note Howkins claims: his ancestor Thomas Howkins signed the Declaration of Independence.

Watch & Listen Play List: November 16-18

american gastronomy map  lucy stephens

Oh America! You are a steaming post-election hot mess.

All fifty states have petitions for secession now, talking heads are wallowing in lame excuse dredges up to their eyeballs. You know for certain you're a bowl of sour grapes if former First Lady Barbara Bush tells you to stop your whining and move on.

The five stages of grief are: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

I'm adding a sixth stage:The Blues.

How about we all agree, there's this last weekend to wallow and wail, and then come Monday, it's a new week? And it is the week of Thanks, (notice the capital "t"?)

I have a great play list all lined up for you. Go ahead, drown your sorrows, but leave the last glass half. Okay? Then, make a pot of black coffee, and sober up. And, remember that a spoonful of sugar will make the medicine go down sweeter.

Here's the thing: Everybody here in these United States, you are mine, and you don't get to go anywhere. We can slam doors, pull hair, spit on each other's laundry, give each other the silent treatment, mutter under our breath, scream and shout, but you need to know, you're still invited to Thanksgiving Dinner. And for drinks and dessert, later.

Statesboro Blues - Taj Mahal
All I Could Do Was Cry - Etta James
Sit & Cry the Blues - John Nemeth
You've Got to Hurt Before You Heal - Kenny Neal
You Can't Lose What You Ain't Never Had - Mud Morganfield
Doom & Gloom - Rolling Stones
Jumpin' at Shadows - Gary Moore
Sunrise Blues - Samuel James
Firewater - Django Django
Whiskey River - Willie Nelson
When I Get Drunk - Carey Bell
Black Coffee - Delta Moon
Medicine - Tad Benoit
My Story - Chuck Willis
Honolulu Blues - Craig Finn
Rave On - M Ward
Something for Nothing - Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band
Texas Flood - Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble
Crossroads - Cream
Grounds for Divorce - Elbow
Chain of Fools - Aretha Franklin
The Story - Brandie Carlile
Don't You Lie to Me - Junior Wells
I'm on to You - Joe Louis Walker
Don't Owe You a Thang - Gary Clark Jr.
You Gonna Need Me - Mark Butcher Band
Thankful and Thoughtful - Betty LaVette
Welcome to the Human Race - Walter Trout
Enough of the Blues - Gary Moore

Poetry & Music Mash Up: America (Try saying wren) - Joseph Lease + Mad World - Gary Jules

the world gone mad meganzii

Mad World

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America (Try saying wren)

                 Try saying wren.

It's midnight
in my body, 4 a.m. in my body, breading and olives and
cherries. Wait, it's all rotten. How am I ever. Oh notebook.
A clown explains the war. What start or color or kind of
grace. I have to teach. I have to run, eat less junk. Oh CNN.
What start or color. There's a fist of meat in my solar plexus
and green light in my mouth and little chips of dream flake
off my skin. Try saying wren. Try saying
mercy.
                          Try anything.

Artist of the Day: Grand Taxonomy of Rap Names - Ben Gibson

 

grand taxonomy of rap names ben gibson popchartlab

 

Do we need a grand taxonomy of rap names? Yes. Yes, we do.

 

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artist bio: Pop Chart Lab is a collaboration between a book editor and a graphic designer. From our lair in Brooklyn we aim to do nothing less than to bring order to a swirling chaos.That is, we seek to put the world in charts.