Tag Archives: ekphrasis

After They Hatch

Never go out fishing
with a girl you met at Walmart.

Keep honey in a jar,
not cold beer in a sack.

Don’t go out to the bars
with your apples in a bag.

Never go out blind
if you don’t have the knack.

Spend your last dimes,
your red cents, on chickens.

You can count them
when you’re broke and bent.

 

 

 

After “Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch,” by Tommy Ray. I had a rough day today. I was going to do a sad song, but the phrase in this title popped into my head, so I went searching for a song we used to sing in elementary school music class that used that same saying. I didn’t find it, but I did find this—and for some reason, the part about the girl hanging out at Walmart cracked me up, and then life seemed better.

Have a request? Please let me know in the comments.

Standard

It’s a Simple Song

Sometimes, I sing out loud
on the telephone wire.
Sometimes, I clap my hands.

I had a place somewhere
among the bullfrogs once;
it was low there, and I sang

low. When I’m with the
little birds, I sing high. If you
need to know your place,

ask the porcupine. He knows
your name; he mutters it
to himself, just like mine.

 

 

After “A Place in the Choir” by Bill Staines. Another great request from my friend Jud! The song begins at 4:20, but the intro is pretty funny. His impression of a porcupine is not to be missed.

Also, if it’s still Tuesday p.m./wee hours of Wednesday, check out Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.

Standard

Somewhere Deep in the Woods

We were just having a party,
all of us in our costumes.
When the businessmen arrived,
we put clown-fox heads on their
real heads. I didn’t know my
grandfather was there, still alive,
or that I was, somehow, still
five years old. All of us made our
noises then. All of us called out,
into the woods. We told our
secrets, everything we were
hiding inside, under all that fur
and makeup. We told each other
what it is we say. When the sun
came up, I wanted to know if
we could ever be the same.
The birds sounded the same
as all birds ever, anywhere.

 

 

 

After “The Fox,” by Ylvis. What by whom? You owe it to yourself to check it out! This one wasn’t by request, but big thanks to my cousin Kristin for introducing me to this song. If there’s a song you’d like me to write about, please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

Standard

River of Flowers

Like jasmine, I tremble,
afraid of my father,
the swan of the village
covered in snow.

In the river of dreams,
I collect blue lotus
with a careless hand,
and I laugh like a bird.

We call together,
my friend and I,
we call the roses
and they come to us,

fleeing the current,
under the canopy of
my father, his white
and terrible wing.

 

 

 

After The Flower Duet, from the opera Lakmé, by Léo Delibes. Many thanks to my friend Jud for adding some class to this whole affair! If you’re like me, you won’t know this piece by its title, but you will recognize it starting at about 1:20. For one thing, it was used in a British Airways commercial, which inspired this great parody! (Really, you should watch it.) Back to the piece itself … It’s gorgeous, and I’m so glad I spent some time with it today. There are many, many other performances available, but if you need subtitles and studied French at some point, you might enjoy the one I chose.

Standard

Be on My Side

There is no reason for you to hide.
I shot my baby over the rainbow.
They dragged the river bottom,
but she was not there. I shot her
dead. I dragged her to the quarry;
I threw her in. I buried her under
gravel and clay. I worked all night.
I walked away from my baby; I
walked along the river, where the
weeds grow tall—tall enough to
cover everything. Tall enough for
us to hide. There’s still time for us
to get away. Are you on my side?
Are you on my side, or do you
need to take a rainbow ride?
I could drag you anywhere.

 

 

Today’s creepy request, Neil Young & Crazy Horse’s “Down by the River,” was from my friend and possible distant cousin-in-law, Tom Cavicchia. Nothing like a good murder ballad on a Saturday night … If you have a request, please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

 

Standard

Make Another Man Sing

Uncle Charlie is the one man who weeps
like a dove lapping at cream. Feel it:
the power of love in his wings,

the steel wings of his DMC-12.
“Tougher than diamonds,” he says.
“Tougher than diamonds, and hard as

a dream.” It’s like a train, the guitar solo—
to a time before credit cards, when he
was poor, but everything sufficed.

 

 

 

 

 

After “The Power of Love,” by Huey Lewis & The News, as requested by John Allen Richter.

My base was this one — because if you’re going to watch this video, you might as well watch it with the full intro. And then I watched this one because I’ve decided to allow myself to consult the lyrics of the songs I’m writing about. And then I finished with this one, which is just the song, minus lyrics and lengthy preamble.

Requests? Let me know in the comments. Thanks!

Standard

Differences in the Wind

Take a walk with me;
I will show you Chewbacca things,
how trees have rings.

Inside.
The inside of things.

Thump my chest.
It won’t hurt me.
I am a particular kind

 of melon.

These are leaves.
Kick them and they scatter

like railroad tracks when the train

is coming, rolls over, clicks off
clattering to somewhere.

This is the sun in the wind.
Sometimes you can’t tell
the difference, which one
is touching your face.

I wonder if you’ll remember me
more than you’ll remember the wine?

Its sharp taste, that sourness of sun
and time. That thunder of wind

and time.

I tap and release you;
you fly away.

Oh, the differences
in different times.

 

 

After “Dark Star” by the Grateful Dead, as requested by my friend Dan. I strongly preferred this performance, which is longer but prettier. In the last couple of stanzas, you might see influences from this one. Listening to the two very different versions probably gave me the “differences” theme.

All this month, I’m writing poems based on songs. Have a request? Great! Please mention it in the comments.

Standard

Lies in Your Eyeliner

Damn it, I’m the guy in shades,
and I will not have this masquerade,
these costumes and red lipstick,
these ladders of night.

This mattress brings no rest,
only steam from the radiator
that lives in my mind, fills
every moment with its heat.

Oh, no. You stamp my visa
again and again: DENIED.
Oh, no, you keep me here,
in a hallway of violins.

You deceive me; I wonder if
there are lies in your eyeliner,
lines of your story that you keep
inside your hat. I keep my lines

to myself, behind these bars.
I can’t hurt you; don’t be afraid.
Give me back my switchblade—
I want to show you my visions.

 

 

Inspired by Corey Hart’s “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night,” requested by my friend Malissa. Do you have a request? Let me know in the comments!

Standard

All Right for a Girl (after “Brand New Key,” by Melanie)

I roll around the world,
the lonely round world,
and I sing in a different key.
I jolt awake and see that  
I’ve been skating all night,
trying to reach your door.
My bicycle rides without me
sometimes. You’ll find it
under your window
one morning, when I am
least myself, and most,
when I am not driving,
but walking, not singing,
only talking—
talking to myself
about you, or how
everyone says
I’m doing all right,
for a girl.

 

 

If it’s Tuesday p.m., check out Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Also, I’ve started a month-long series in which I’ll write a poem based on a different  song each day. (Here’s the one that inspired today’s poem.) If you have a request (any style, any song, any artist), please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

Standard