Thursday, January 29, 2015

Rod McKuen , and a Winter's Storm

It was, the newspapers and television personalities hyped, THE STORM OF THE CENTURY. Supermarket shoppers were interviewed. “How do you think you’ll get through this?” one anchor asked a friend of mine. “We’re human,” he said. “We’re pretty resourceful.” Storing water was encouraged. Suits from every level of government appeared on television for hours. “Stay home,” they implored. As the hours went on, the request became more stringent. “If you’re out on the streets after 11,” the Mayor said sternly, “ you will be ticketed. It’s a misdemeanor. You’re breaking the law.” (in accordance with the President now, laws no longer have to go through the unnecessary process of being voted on. Any politician can simply SAY it’s a law and voila!). It was snow alright. And it teetered and crunched and did all the things that snow usually does, given the circumstances. Was it THE STORM OF THE CENTURY? Was it ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS?? No, and no sane person really thought it would be. The global folks say it’s a side effect of global warming (don’t ask). The weather folk – like politicians, famous for their half-truths and outright lies - say regardless of its final status, the east ‘certainly got a wallop in this storm.’ I’m not going to lie. I think we’re all tired of shoveling. But those in the know claim there’s another storm in the offing, maybe as soon as Friday. And this one – nevermind earlier in the week – this one is going to be a doozy. Time will tell. **************** i know its fashionable to denigrate popular poetry, and try to act lofty and snobbish but i like Rod McKuen and his poems. Sorry about the syntax, can't seem to get it right for this blog....Here's one from In Someone's Shadow (Cheval Books, 1969): We come into the world alone We go away the same. We're meant to spend the interlude between in closeness But its a long way from the morning to the evening. Here's another favorite from the same book.. Its called "Empty Is": Empty is the sky before the sun wakes up the morning, The eyes of animals in cages , The faces of women mourning when everything has been taken from them. Me? Don't ask me about empty. Rock star bestselling poet, author and singer of the beautiful song Jean (The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie), the first millionaire hippie poet who sold his self pubbed books door to door like vacuum cleaners, Wayne Dyer with a gift for meter, singer of sad love ballads, Sinatra colloborator (This Town , is a use you town), gentleman beatnik, rest in peace Rod . Listen to the Warm... ** Thanks for visiting. You can find this author's poems wherever fine ebooks are sold, including "Blackbird Drawn on a Charcoal Sky White Snow."

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