"I'd really love to see you tonight"

ASHES OF LIFE

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will, -- and would that night were here!
But ah! -- to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again! -- with twilight near!

Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through, --
There's little use in anything as far as I can see.

Love has gone and left me, -- and the neighbors knock and borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse, --
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There's this little street and this little house.


Edna St. Vincent Millay



The course of true love never did run smooth.
W. Shakespeare "A Midsummer's Night Dream"

Piffka

Blue Bayou is great. I'm a BIG ROY ORBISON FAN. Two weeks ago I finally got the DVD of "Roy Orbison, Black and White Night".
Have you seen it? They use it on PBS local affiliate fundraisers as donation bait. It was done in 1988 about six mos before he died.

'He does all his big songs and has a bunch of big names for accompaniment (ie. Jackson Browne, T Bone Burnett, Elvis Costello, k.d. lang, Bonnie Raitt, J.D.Souther, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Waits, and Jennifer Warnes.


Cav

Now you've done it! I grew up on Hank Williams SR. Even though I was just a pup my older sibs played his 'Moanin' The Blues' album constantly.
No one does LONGING like Hank W. except maybe my other fav, Ray Charles.

Here's another HW biggie:




MOANIN' THE BLUES
Hank Williams

When my baby moved out and the blues moved in
There wasn't nothin' I could do
But mosey around with my head in my hands
Lord what am I comin' to
I just keep Moanin'
Moa-oanin' the blues.

I wrote a nice, long letter
Sayin' mama please come home
Your dad-ad-dy is lo-o-onesome
And all I do is moan ...
I been lovin' that gal for so doggone long
I can't afford to lose her now
I thought I was right but I must of been wrong
'Cause my head is startin' to bow
And now I'm Moanin'
Moa-oanin' The Blues.

If you want a good gal to stay around
You gotta treat her nice and kind
If you do her wrong she'll leave this town
And you'll almost lose your mind
Then you'll moanin'; Moa-oanin' The Blues.

Aw! baby, baby, baby
Honey baby, please come home
Your dad-ad-dy is lon-one-some and all I do is moan
I promise you baby that I'll be good
And I'll never be bad no more
I'm sittin' here waitin' for you right now
To walk through that front door
Then I'll stop moanin'; Moa-oanin' The Blues.

Now you've done it...Tom Waits...a huge fave...

Invitation to the Blues

Well she's up against the register
with an apron and a spatula
with yesterday's deliveries,
and the tickets for the bachelors
she's a moving violation
from her conk down to her shoes
but it's just an invitation to the blues

and you feel just like Cagney
looks like Rita Hayworth
at the counter of the Schwab's drug store
you wonder if she might be single
she's a loner likes to mingle
got to be patient and pick up a clue

she says howyougonnalikem
over medium or scrambled
anyway's the only way
be careful not to gamble
on a guy with a suitcase
and a ticket gettin out of here
it's a tired bus station
and an old pair of shoes
but it ain't nothing but an
invitation to the blues

but you can't take your eyes off her
get another cup of joe
and it's just the way she pours it for you
joking with the customers
and it's mercy mercy Mr. Percy
there ain't nothin back in Jersey
but a broken-down jalopy of a
man I left behind
and a dream that I was chasin
and a battle with booze
and an open invitation to the blues

but she's had a sugar daddy
and a candy apple Caddy
and a bank account and everything
accustomed to the finer things
he probably left her for a socialite
and he didn't love her 'cept at night
and then he's drunk and never
even told her that he cared
so they took the registration
and the car-keys and her shoes
And left her with an invitation
to the blues

'Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving
local bus tonight, good evening
you can have my seat
I'm stickin round here for a while
get me a room at the Squire
the filling station's hiring
I can eat here every night
what the hell have I got to lose
got a crazy sensation,
go or stay and I've got to choose
and I'll accept your invitation to the blues

P.S. What the heck was that post about anyway where you quoted me, lol, perhaps I misunderstood? Actually, last I heard, the jury is still out on whether Swinburne was 'into girls' or bisexual...

Cav

Great Waits!

My other remark was just a throwaway line . . didn't mean anything, just kidding.

As far as Swinburne goes, you clearly know him better than I.
I've only read a few of his poems in various anthologies. I remember also one critic saying that he had somewhat wasted his talent.
He is certainly a virtuoso with words however.

Yeah, the academic jury is also in a conundrum about Swinburne. Problem is, he wrote far too much material....and much of it drivel. I suppose the critic you read was getting at that...thing is, what was brilliant was brilliant indeed, scholarly, perfectly crafted, and very emotional. Gives me man boobs the quivers sometimes, lol. No offence taken to your off-the-cuff remark, just didn't get it, I think. I am off to find more cool stuff for the thread

I loved this one from Dead Can Dance (think it was taken from a medieval poem):

I Am Stretched On Your Grave

I am stretched on your grave
And will lie there forever
With your hands held in mine
I'd be sure we'd not sever
My apple tree my brightness
'Tis time we were together
For I smell of the earth
And am stained by the weather
When my family thinks
That I'm safe in my bed
From night until morning
I am stretched at your head
Calling out to the air
With tears both hot and wild
Oh I grieve for the girl
That I loved as a child

The priests and the friars
Behold me in dread
Because I still love you
My love and you're dead
I would still be your shelter
From rain and from storm
And with you in your cold grave
I cannot sleep warm

#640 Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with You --
It would be Life --
And Life is over there --
Behind the Shelf

The Sexton keeps the Key to --
Putting up
Our Life -- His Porcelain --
Like a Cup --

Discarded of the Housewife --
Quaint -- or Broke --
A newer Sevres pleases --
Old Ones crack --

I could not die -- with You --
For One must wait
To shut the Other's Gaze down --
You -- could not --

And I -- Could I stand by
And see You -- freeze --
Without my Right of Frost --
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise -- with You --
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus' --
That New Grace

Glow plain -- and foreign
On my homesick Eye --
Except that You than He
Shone closer by --

They'd judge Us -- How --
For You -- served Heaven -- You know,
Or sought to --
I could not --

Because You saturated Sight --
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise

And were You lost, I would be --
Though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly fame --

And were You -- saved --
And I -- condemned to be
Where You were not --
That self -- were Hell to Me --

So We must meet apart --
You there -- I -- here --
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are -- and Prayer --
And that White Sustenance --
Despair --

Here are two songs by Irving Berlin which I've always thought are especially effective because the lyrics aren't "poetic" at all: apart from the fact that they rhyme, they sound almost conversational, like something a real person might say.

All Alone

All alone, I'm so all alone
There is no one else but you
All alone by the telephone
Waiting for a ring, a ting-a-ling

I'm all alone every evening
All alone, feeling blue
Wond'ring where you are and how you are
And if you are all alone too



Remember

One little kiss, a moment of bliss, then hours of deep regret
One little smile, and after a while, a longing to forget
One little heartache left as a token
One little plaything carelessly broken

Remember the night
The night you said, "I love you"
Remember?

Remember you vowed
By all the stars above you
Remember?

Remember we found a lonely spot
And after I learned to care a lot
You promised that you'd forget me not
But you forgot
To remember

Into my dreams you wandered it seems, and then there came a day
You loved me too, my dreams had come true, and all the world was May
But soon the Maytime turned to December
You had forgotten, do you remember?

Remember the night
The night you said, "I love you"
Remember?

Remember you vowed
By all the stars above you
Remember?

Remember we found a lonely spot
And after I learned to care a lot
You promised that you'd forget me not
But you forgot
To remember

Cav
'I Am Stretched On Your Grave' is very moving, very poignant



bree
very nice


All
There are so many touching poems and lyrics here. We're going to need some kleenex soon.
(not me, of course)

One more poem each from Dickinson and Millay:

If you were coming in the Fall
--Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the Fall,
I'd brush the Summer by
With half a smile, and half a spurn,
As Housewives do, a Fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls-
And put them each in separate Drawers,
For fear the numbers fuse-

If only Centuries, delayed,
I'd count them on my Hand,
Subtracting, till my fingers dropped
Into Van Dieman's Land.

If certain, when this life was out-
That yours and mine, should be
I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind,
And take Eternity-

But, now, uncertain of the length
Of this, that is between,
It goads me, like the Goblin Bee-
That will not state-its sting.


Sonnet II
--Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,--so with his memory they brim
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

'I Can't Stop Loving You'
Ray Charles

(I can't stop loving you)
I've made up my mind
To live in memory of the lonesome times
(I can't stop wanting you)
It's useless to say
So I'll just live my life in dreams of yesterday
(Dreams of yesterday)

Those happy hours that we once knew
Tho' long ago, they still make me blue
They say that time heals a broken heart
But time has stood still since we've been apart

(I can't stop loving you)
I've made up my mind
To live in memories of the lonesome times
(I can't stop wanting you)
It's useless to say
So I'll just live my life in dreams of yesterday

(Those happy hours)
Those happy hours
(That we once knew)
That we once knew
(Tho' long ago)
Tho' long ago
(Still make me blue)
Still ma-a-a-ake me blue
(They say that time)
They say that time
(Heals a broken heart)
Heals a broken heart
(But time has stood still)
Time has stood still
(Since we've been apart)
Since we've been apart

(I can't stop loving you)
I said I made up my mind
To live in memory of the lonesome times

(I can't stop wanting you)
It's useless to say
So I'll just live my life of dreams of yesterday
(Of yesterday)

Oh thank you Bree. "Remember" is the second song I was going to post. I love that song. I was never able to find a good recording of it. Now I'm trying to remember where and when I first heard it.

And the Millay poem posted by Piffka is beautiful.

And all these poignant lyrics are making me sad, but that's OK, I enjoy being sad.

Meeting Point
by Louis MacNeice
April 1939


Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs):
Time was away and somewhere else.


And they were neither up nor down;
The stream's music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.


The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise--
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calys of no noise;
The bell was silent in the air.


The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.


Time was away and somewhere else.
The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock;
Time was away and somewhere else.


Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in the tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.


God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body's peace
God or whatever means the Good.


Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.

Back in the days of my youth, playing Celtic and folk music around campus, this old song was a popular one in my repertoire:

The Lakes of Ponchetrain
(G D C G Em C G ~ Em D G- C- / / lst)

It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu
And took the road to Jackson Town my fortune to renew
I cursed all foreign money, no credit could I gain
Which filled my heart with longing for the Lakes of Ponchetrain

I stepped on board a railroad car beneath the morning sun
And I rode the rails til evening & I laid me down again
All strangers they're no friends to me til a dark girl towards me came
And I fell in love with a Creole girl on The Lakes of Ponchetrain

I said, "Me pretty Creole girl, my money here's no good
If it weren't for the alligators I'd sleep out in the wood."
"You're welcome here kind stranger, our house is very plain
But we never turn a stranger out on The Lakes of Ponchetrain

She took me into her mama's house & treated me right well
The hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell
To try to paint her beauty I'm sure t'would be in vain
So handsome was my Creole girl on The Lakes of Ponchetrain

I asked her would she marry me, she said that ne'er would be
For she had got a lover & he was far at sea
She said that she would wait for him & true she would remain
Til he returned to his Creole girl on The Lakes of Ponchetrain

So fair you well my bonnie old girl, I ne'er may see you no more
I'll ne'er forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore
And at every social gathering, a golden glass I'll drain
And I'll drink all health to the Creole girl on The Lakes of Ponchetrain

I know this thread was supposed to stick to longing of a love sort of thing, but I couldn't resist posting this Stan Rogers classic....not only a three-hanky song for sure, but beautifully sums up 'longing' as a concept:

FIRST CHRISTMAS
Stan Rogers

This day, a year ago, he was rolling in the snow
With a younger brother in his father's yard.
Christmas break - a time for touching home
The heart of all he'd known, and leaving was so hard -
Three thousand miles away, now he's working Christmas Day
Making double time for "the minding of the store"...
Well, he'd always said he'd make it on his own
He's spending Christmas Eve alone.
First Christmas away from home.

She's standing by the train station, panhandling for change
Four more dollars buys a decent meal and a room.
Looks like the Sally Ann place after all,
In a crowded sleeping hall that echoes like a tomb
But it's warm and clean and free and there are worse places to be,
And at least it means no beating from her Dad
And if she cries because it's Christmas Day
She hopes that it won't show...
First Christmas away from home.

In the apartment stands a tree, and it looks so small and bare
Not like it was meant to be
The Golden Angel on the top, it's not that same old silver star
You wanted for your own
First Christmas away from home.

In the morning, they get prayers, then it's Crafts and tea downstairs
Then another meal back in his little room
Hoping maybe that "the boys" will think to phone before the day is gone
Well, it's best they do it soon.
When the "old girl" passed away, he fell more apart each day
Each had always kept the other pretty well
But the kids all said the nursing home was best
'Cause he couldn't live alone...
First Christmas away from home.

In the Common Room they've got the biggest tree
And it's huge and cold and lifeless,
Not like it ought to be
And the lit-up flashing Santa Claus on top
It's not that same old silver star you once made for your own
First Christmas away from home.

'Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)'

Operator, oh, could you help me place this call
You see the number on the matchbook is old and faded
She's living in L.A.
With my best old ex-friend Ray
A guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated


Isn't that the way they say it goes
But lets forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So I can call just to tell her I'm fine and to show
I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels

Operator, oh, could you help me place this call
'Cause I can't read the number that you just gave me
There's something in my eyes
You know it happens every time
I think about the love that I thought would save me



...no no no no that's not the way it feels

Operator let's forget about this call
There's no one there I really wanted to talk to
Thank you for your time
'Cause you've been so much more than kind
And you can keep the dime
(Jim Croce)

This is one of my two favorite* poems:



'One Art'


The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
The art of losing's not too hard to master
Though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
(Elizabeth Bishop)



Bishop begins with what seems to be, in effect, a 'handbook' on dealing with progressively greater losses.
Initially the poem seems to be humorous, even as the losses become greater and greater.

In the last stanza however, the cover of humor and exaggeration are dropped just enough to give us a glimpse of the speaker's true anguish, and the poem is revealed to be a love poem.







* The other is 'In Memory of W.B. Yeats' by W.H. Auden

<sigh>

Is this longing or what?!!


You Don't Know Me
Ray Charles

You give your hand to me
And then you say hello
I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me

Oh you don't know the one
That thinks of you at night
Who longs to kiss your lips
And yearns to squeeze you tight
No I'm just a friend
That's all I've ever been
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love
Though my heart aches with love for you
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
You'll never, never know
The one who loves you so
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love
Though my heart aches with love for you
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
Who'll never, never know
The one who loves you so
You just don't know me

You'll never, ever know
mmmm, cause you just don't know me

< ... even bigger sigh ..>