To the Horizon
I believe in the future, we shall suffer no more
Maybe not in my lifetime, but in yours, I feel sure
These prayers, these prayers are the memory of God
Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears
Old man lying abed 17 years
Wasn’t old when he first crawled in
Then his blanket boasted threads of steel
White satin ribbon running on edge
His skin like a mustang’s, electric and lithe
Long ago, thought he knew the score
Now his fantasies are all under the sheets
He lies there alone in reverie
Stealing a peek at his neighbors next door
I believe in the future, we shall suffer no more
It’s an ancient art, this ballet of hearts
Rogers and Astaire, we sure ain’t
Anyway, I groove to my own beat
And though it isn’t proper, I hope you’ll follow
Just don’t go slip-slidin’ away
Sheets of rain swamp us, force a detour
But I love the pounding of the surf
How the ocean washes us, leaves us pure
Maybe not in my lifetime, but in yours, I feel sure
Wake up, Old Man, Wake up
Stretch out your hand and grab mine
Let’s see if there’s anything under the hood
Kick up dirt and shake the sheets
A May pole in the middle of Graceland
We swing around the lightning rod
Electrified and shouting, Hallelujah!
The glinting sun arcs to cover
My heart and yours, clasped, our hands applaud
These prayers, these prayers are the memory of god
Twenty-four years and we’re still in bed
Rolling around like pins
The sheets creased by the work of our hands
Paisley blue diamonds on the souls of our feet
I walk more swiftly than you, Old Man
But you stand now at the finish line free and clear
We un-hat our heads and unplug our ears
I’ll wait a while until you cross over, Old Man,
Wasn’t the last time our best souvenir?
Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears
Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears
These prayers are the memory of god
Maybe not in my lifetime, but in yours, I feel sure
I believe in the future, we shall suffer no more
Cabeza from --Paul Simon, Cool, Cool River
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Comments: 19
Thank you for sharing and submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
I haven't yet attempted a glossa. I might one day.
An exquisite piece of Budig
In the morning
She gives her heart, displayed by the arts
Her pleasurable treat
Ringing without warning
We should all say a prayer
That our lovely lady fair
Continues on so becalming
Thanks Susan!
Featured on The Triple Name Club.
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Personally, I'm still very unsatisfied with it. I think it's an improvement over the first one I wrote using this text, but it still needs quite a bit of work.
What I did was simply to chose some lines from one of Paul Simon's songs that appealed to me. They aren't even consecutive lines in the song (Cool Cool River), but I liked them.
Then I listened to the song on youtube and I listened to maybe three or four interviews of the musician talking about the song or his creative process. Then I tried to pull some words that I liked and that he used frequently and insert them into my glossa.
Like I said, I have a ways to go. I took this to my writers group this (Saturday) morning and they know my work well, they said I need to spend time on this bringing it into focus.
Mine is a gloss of a poem by Jack Prelutsky and it's...odd.
Thanks for sharing with Gather's Luminous Writers and Artists. Featured and tweeted.
I honestly wasn't sure what this was about. It was something, but unfocused to me. Now as I read it again, I think it's about marriage. In the first stanza, the marriage--an old man--is sort of washed up, not like it was in the beginning. Then the second stanza shows the woman wanting to return to a marrage of vitality, but recognizing the current reality.
The third stanza has the marriage cooking again, but the final stanza is a good-bye to the husband because of death and a parting comment that they didn't end on a sad note, but on one that became their "best souvenir."