Blue Sky Carillon
Since you sang with me
O for such a short while
light of my heart,
the lemongrass is sweeter, the
birds fly as birds have
never flown
with each cunning feather
rimmed with the heart’s gold,
and if all I found there
was only an echo
was only an echo
of my own song, it still chimes sweetly
against every surface
June 2011
It's 102 here today, but not as hot as this band. Dickie Betts is on fire. Like one of the youtube comments says, if that doesn't get you movin, you're dead.
photo by joy ann jones, 2010
Yeah it do. Keep ringing those bells, dearie.
ReplyDeletesmiles. this is a very warm and loving write hedge...they echo in beauty...inspiration has struck you eh? 3 poems in 24 hours...sheesh...smiles.
ReplyDelete@FB Till I can't anymore,that's my plan.
ReplyDelete@brian--you remember the line from Little Big Man--sometimes the magic works, sometimes it doesn't. ;_)
Very uplifting. Makes me want to smile & dance.
ReplyDeleteThese are good days, aren't they? When the heart sings this way, with cunning feathers . . . what a great phrase. The title is quite wonderful. I'll be hearing chimes against blue sky here today.
ReplyDeleteNothing like a hippie backslide on the whiskey glide of Dickey Betts slide guitar (didn't he use a Coricidin bottle for a slide?--now that's some sweet physic...) How much immensity, intensity and eternity can crowd those singular moments whose color and dolor match the blue blue sky ... Maybe we're remembering the womb when the happiness of that color hues everything, free and limitless in absolute defiance of our prison of time and space, of separate selves. Love the poem (shortest yet sweetest, just like the moment), love the picture, love the song. Forgive the blabbering glossalalia, I'm coming off an ocular migraine sparked by 100-degree shrieking skies here in Florida; makes me half-blind and doubly verbal and horny at once, the rollicking tongue like the galloping dolphin of sex. (Not to worry, the former's my tribe, the latter my ex.) Didn't Emerson say that the poet is the one intoxicated by the nectar of nature? I am, by the nature of this poem. This one got me moving. Blue skies, nothing but ... Stay cool, friend, and keep slidin' these poems our way ... Brendan
ReplyDeleteAfreekinmen
ReplyDelete@Ruth Thanks for reading and enjoying. Yes, when you're young, you take these days in stride, age makes you realize what a true gift they are.
ReplyDelete@B: Glad you enjoyed. Nature is always the tonic that saves my hedgewitchian soul from the sickness unto death, but it never hurts to have a little help from some musical and poetic doctors. Hadn't heard that about the Coricidin bottle--ha--though it's Duane Allman playing the slide here. Unusual to get two twin solos like that in one song where both are superb, seemingly without any ego 'battle of the bands' elements. just two guitars singing the same song in two voices. I can't believe though, that that slide music was helpful to a head throbbing with migraine! Hope you are better today. Thanks for reading my friend.
"an echo of my own song, it still chimes sweetly".....so lovely and poignant a poem!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Joy. I love the idea of the birds flying as they have never flown-- when you get a minute if you could weigh in on my latest, I'd love it. best-- J
ReplyDeletethe clouds were amazing and extremely revealing the past four days.
ReplyDeletefrom the picture I know that the photographer saw the Seraphim's wings. During these last four days there was no way a person could have missed it, unless during these last four days, they didn't look up at all.
@who--no doubt, however the picture was taken last year, and that's a dragon to me, dude. If you want a seraphim, take your own picture.
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