He looked at me with rheumy eyes

Letty,

You never cease to amaze me how you can take a very simple every day occurence that most of us would just forget about and weave it into a beautiful tapestry.

Puts me in mind of Leonard Cohen's lyric:

A bunch of lonesome and very quarrelsome heroes
were smoking out along the open road;
the night was very dark and thick between them,
each man beneath his ordinary load.
'I'd like to tell my story,'
said one of them so young and bold,
'I'd like to tell my story,
before I turn into gold.'
But no one really could hear him,
the night so dark and thick and green;
well I guess that these heroes must always live there
where you and I have only been.
Put out your cigarette, my love,
you've been alone too long;
and some of us are very hungry now
to hear what it is you've done that was so wrong.

I sing this for the crickets,
I sing this for the army,
I sing this for your children
and for all who do not need me.
'I'd like to tell my story,'
said one of them so bold,
'Oh yes, I'd like to tell my story
'cause you know I feel I'm turning into gold.'

Thank you, Lady J. It's the small things in life that catch my eye. I couldn't get over that man, a WWII veteran and reduced to being ignored.

Poetry and music and art, all part of the same gold threads. I liked that song, edgar, but I have never heard it.

When I came home after doing some last minute shopping, I was suddenly a bit ashamed of all the food that filled my cupboard. The man bought a lottery ticket. Damn, I hope he wins, but he won't.

At one point, somebody's child, hopefully loved.

Lady J. Everything reminds me of a song. When I was a kid, we used to make fun of the obvious "hill billy" music. I've learned now to appreciate it all.








Hank Williams Lyrics - The Tramp on the Street

The Tramp on the Street Lyrics:
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writers: grady and hazel cole capo: 1st fret/key: eb/play: d

[d] only a tramp was lazarus sad [g] fate
He who lay do-[a7] wn at the rich man's [d] gate
He begged for the crumbs from the rich man to [g] eat
He was only a [d] tramp found [a7] dead on the [d] street. [d] he was some mother's darlin', he was some mother's [g] son
Once he was [a7] fair and once he was [d] young
And some mother rocked him, her darlin' to [g] sleep
But they left him to [d] die like a [a7] tramp on the [d] street. jesus, he died on calvary's tree
He shed his life's blood for you and for me
They pierced his side and then his feet
And they left him to die like a tramp on the street. he was mary's own darlin', he was god's chosen son
Once he was fair and once he was young
Mary, she rocked him, her darlin' to sleep
But they left him to die like a tramp on the street. if jesus should come and knock on your door
For a place to come in, or bread from your store
Would you welcome him in, or turn him away
Then the god's would deny you on the great judgement day.

Dear Hank. He died rather young himself. If you play guitar, you can do the chords. <smile>

Hey, I can play that on piano.

and, of course, Frost's poem that is so very ironic:

a poem by Robert Frost



NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.



If I could post a painting, it would NOT be Joan Miro.

I thought this was wonderfully penned Letty.

Hey, Cav. Many thanks. Saw your response on Kitchen Pete's thread. You know an awful lot of songs for such a young chef.

Looked out my kitchen window and saw a white heron standing in my ground cover.

I thought of Miss Otis Egrets.

Herons are beautiful birds. I once had the rare oppurtunity to see a Whooping Crane, live and in person when I was a lad.

and I understand that loons are endangered as well as the whooping crane. I have never seen either, but I did see two lovely pink flamingoes
in awkward but a graceful flight
Against the juxtaposed of night
Just over the rim of rising tide
And matching setting sun.

And just yesterday,
The geese of Canada
Flew South,
But they were not in V formation,
Wings akimbo
Radar rationed.

I have seen many loons. They are beautiful birds, and their call is absolutely haunting.

We Canajuns don't hold Canada Geese in such high esteem as 'Mericans though. They are mean creatures, and poo machines.

Wonderful piece, Ms Letty. I particularly enjoyed the subtle interplay of the lines :-)

Ah, Kelly, my Vapours friend. Thank you, honey. I have often wondered what it would be like to be a cast off, especially when one has given so much.

Sorta like hand me down clothes. Hope your sweet Kelly Ann never has to suffer that indignity.

Highly unlikely :-)