Archive for November, 2009

Turning Your Way

Sunday, November 8th, 2009
In Franco Zeffirelli’s movie Brother Sun Sister Moon about Saint Francis’ early life, the first song by Donovan is a beautiful accompaniment to the scene where Francis returns desperately ill from feudal battles and prison to his home town of Assisi.

Oh the drums are so mournful my dear oh my love
As my thoughts they are turning your way.
Where are the eyes I beheld with my own
On that long-ago lazy day.

Dead are the deeds on the stark battlefield.
The stench of the flesh sickens me.
I slept soaking wet and the worms ate my bread,
And the mourning of men filled the air.

Oh green are the leaves of the old apple tree,
Those sweet perfumed blossoms of spring.
Entwined in your hair, the smile in your eye,
A soft blade of grass for a ring.

Warm are the loaves that cool on the sill
To the song of the clear trickling stream.
The good clean smell of the rough woven sheets.
The song of the children at play.

Oh the drums are so mournful my dear oh my love
As my thoughts they are turning your way.
Where are the eyes I beheld with my own
On that long-ago lazy day.
On that long-ago lazy day.

Last Breaths

Sunday, November 8th, 2009

You wanted me to drown in conflict,
To resolve the unresolvable
With only a slim chance at success.
So be it;
I give the mind to your madness.

But my hand I keep with your defiant,
The ones who gasp for breath,
Who want to be loved
Even briefly
By what they see
And what they know.

Yes, maybe I let my mind
Linger too long on the hand I held.
Maybe I wanted a few last breaths
before i drown.

Yet, the stormy surface sorrows
To keep us here
In struggle and separateness.

I must go now, dearest friend
To love that is madness,
Your beginning and my end.

© 2009 Ron Herman

A few words from W.S. Merwin

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

“Poetry begins with hearing. It is more physical than prose.”

“Poetry is really about what can’t be said.”

“When you really get a poem, don’t you have a feeling that you discovered it yourself, that you remembered it?”

- W. S. Merwin, in an interview with Bill Moyers, 2009

Emergence of Language

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

“You see a silent photograph of an Iraqi woman whose husband or son or brother has just been killed by an explosion. You know that if you can hear, you’d hear one long vowel of grief, just senseless, meaningless vowel of grief.  That’s the beginning of language.  Inexpressible sound.  It’s antisocial, it’s destructive, it’s utterly painful beyond expression, and the consonants are the attempts to break it, control it, do something with it.  I think that’s how language emerges.”

- W. S. Merwin, in an interview with Bill Moyers 2009