I got the feeling that you guys liked my first try at blogging a poem, so here’s another go. I wrote this more recently, so hopefully it’s a little wiser and refined. Since I wrote the poem about writing a poem while listening to music, I thought I’d share the song I was listening to when I wrote the poem about writing a poem while listening to music. I would recommend listing to some sort of song while reading this. The song below is great of course. But you could listen to this one as well. Or you could just pick your favorite song and see what happens.
Also, I realized recently that literary nods and allusions to other books and writers are the original, pre- internet hyperlink. Accordingly, I’ve decided to let you in on my little whispers with all my heroes and dead writer friends by actually hyperlinking allusions whenever possible.
Salty Coffee Mornings
A minute or two, no more than three
are the only things between this moment
and the time when the song I like so well will be wrapping up
my moment of writing these words to a lovely tune
a lyrical creation
to sweep all the lonely people onto their feet
stop their weeping bones, aching eyes
all swollen imagining the cost of being alive for
another sixty-two years, sixty-three, God forbid seventy years or so.
If this was a song, it would be for all my friends
gathering in some room to listen and snap
their fingers in appreciation-
not a soft whisper under my sheets long after
the last call for a phone call to just talk
and say there’s nothing wrong and nothing is ever wrong
do you have a minute to talk.
It’s the loudest people, sometimes, who are the saddest.
The gladdest people have the salty coffee
and red eyes in the evening;
red eyes in the morning, failures take warning
red eyes at night, failure is right.
I can only play the violin, moderately, everything
in moderation and half notes
and unless you can fly that just won’t fly
so this can’t be a song and it can’t be a love poem
because the loudest people don’t have love poems on hand
for long nights and salty coffee mornings-
ballads of burning desires and broken hopes
ditties of puppy love and fights like raccoons under the house
Loud people are too busy shouting away
the silly, brazen boys and girls who want to share the swing
so back and forth we go alone, even though we seem
ripe for sharing.
Violins can be lonely instruments if you can’t fiddle;
guitars are better- better for songs and singer songwriters
and community gardens in the heart of the city.
Thanks for reading. You’re fantastic. You give off this great vibe. I love the cut of your jib. Let me know what you think. Should I post more? Should I stick to being silly weird instead of serious weird? Or should I become a tandem base jumping instructor? Oh, by the way, side bar, this is a really cool song. So is this one: