Saturday, February 21, 2015

Poetry about Escape: Playlist for February 20, 2015


 
 

Prose Poem ("The morning coffee.")

By  Ron Padgett  

 

The morning coffee. I'm not sure why I drink it. Maybe it's the ritual

of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the little heap of

brown grit, the way they come together to form a nail I can hang the

day on. It's something to do between being asleep and being awake.

Surely there's something better to do, though, than to drink a cup of

instant coffee. Such as meditate? About what? About having a cup of

coffee. A cup of coffee whose first drink is too hot and whose last drink

is too cool, but whose many in-between drinks are, like Baby Bear's por-

ridge, just right. Papa Bear looks disgruntled. He removes his spectacles

and swivels his eyes onto the cup that sits before Baby Bear, and then,

after a discrete cough, reaches over and picks it up. Baby Bear doesn't

understand this disruption of the morning routine. Papa Bear brings

the cup close to his face and peers at it intently. The cup shatters in his

paw, explodes actually, sending fragments and brown liquid all over the

room. In a way it's good that Mama Bear isn't there. Better that she rest

in her grave beyond the garden, unaware of what has happened to the

world.
 
REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Coffee and Cakes by Charles Chaplin
 
 
 

 

  

Walking

By  Thomas Traherne  

 

 

To walk abroad is, not with eyes,

 

But thoughts, the fields to see and prize;

 

         Else may the silent feet,

 

                Like logs of wood,

 

Move up and down, and see no good

 

         Nor joy nor glory meet.

 

 

Ev’n carts and wheels their place do change,

 

But cannot see, though very strange

 

         The glory that is by;

 

                Dead puppets may

 

Move in the bright and glorious day,

 

         Yet not behold the sky.

 

 

And are not men than they more blind,

 

Who having eyes yet never find

 

         The bliss in which they move;

 

                Like statues dead

 

They up and down are carried

 

         Yet never see nor love.

 

 

To walk is by a thought to go;

 

To move in spirit to and fro;

 

         To mind the good we see;

 

                To taste the sweet;

 

Observing all the things we meet

 

         How choice and rich they be.

 

 

To note the beauty of the day,

 

And golden fields of corn survey;

 

         Admire each pretty flow’r

 

                With its sweet smell;

 

To praise their Maker, and to tell

 

         The marks of his great pow’r.

 

 

To fly abroad like active bees,

 

Among the hedges and the trees,

 

         To cull the dew that lies

 

                On ev’ry blade,

 

From ev’ry blossom; till we lade

 

         Our minds, as they their thighs.

 

 

Observe those rich and glorious things,

 

The rivers, meadows, woods, and springs,

 

         The fructifying sun;

 

                To note from far

 

The rising of each twinkling star

 

         For us his race to run.

 

 

A little child these well perceives,

 

Who, tumbling in green grass and leaves,

 

         May rich as kings be thought,

 

                But there’s a sight

 

Which perfect manhood may delight,

 

         To which we shall be brought.

 

 

While in those pleasant paths we talk,

 

’Tis that tow’rds which at last we walk;

 

         For we may by degrees

 

                Wisely proceed

 

Pleasures of love and praise to heed,

 

         From viewing herbs and trees.
 
 
REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Walking Tune by Percy Grainger
 
 
 
 
 

Ave Maria

 

By  Frank O'Hara  

 

 

Mothers of America

 

                                     let your kids go to the movies!

 

get them out of the house so they won’t know what you’re up to  

 

it’s true that fresh air is good for the body

 

                                                                             but what about the soul  

 

that grows in darkness, embossed by silvery images

 

and when you grow old as grow old you must

 

                                                                                they won’t hate you  

 

they won’t criticize you they won’t know

 

                                                                         they’ll be in some glamorous country  

 

they first saw on a Saturday afternoon or playing hookey

 

 

they may even be grateful to you

 

                                                            for their first sexual experience  

 

which only cost you a quarter

 

                                                       and didn’t upset the peaceful home  

 

they will know where candy bars come from

 

                                                                                 and gratuitous bags of popcorn  

 

as gratuitous as leaving the movie before it’s over

 

with a pleasant stranger whose apartment is in the Heaven on Earth Bldg  

 

near the Williamsburg Bridge

 

                                                       oh mothers you will have made the little tykes

 

so happy because if nobody does pick them up in the movies  

 

they won’t know the difference

 

                                                         and if somebody does it’ll be sheer gravy  

 

and they’ll have been truly entertained either way

 

instead of hanging around the yard

 

                                                                 or up in their room

 

                                                                                                     hating you

 

prematurely since you won’t have done anything horribly mean yet  

 

except keeping them from the darker joys

 

                                                                             it’s unforgivable the latter  

 

so don’t blame me if you won’t take this advice

 

                                                                                      and the family breaks up  

 

and your children grow old and blind in front of a TV set

 

                                                                                                      seeing  

 

movies you wouldn’t let them see when they were young
 
 
REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Music for Movies by Aaron Copland
 
 
 

 

 

The Kiss 

By  Kurt Brown  

 

 

That kiss I failed to give you.

 

How can you forgive me?

 

The kiss I would have spent on you is still

 

There, within me. It will probably die there.

 

But it will be the last of me to die.
 
 
REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Love Theme from "Cinema Paradiso" by Andrea Morricone
 
 
 
 

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