Poetry

Does poetry still remain in our combined social consciousness? It’s alright, i’m just having a moment to contemplate! A thousand possible diary entries were conceived today, but my mind has filtered away the all consuming daily riot to find clarity in music, our poetry of modern life. It’s not the beat or the rhythm, but the words that are delivered. The children did a late night invasion, just as I was serving up John and my ‘rack of lamb with dauphinois potatoes, asparagus and green beans. After a late night yesterday, when they finally got to sleep at 9.30on, tonight at 9pm, they stormed down the stairs thinking that their ballistic behaviour was acceptable! Yes, they were marched back up the stairs and all is now quiet.

I always thought that, like Benny and Bjorn, of ABBA fame, that writing the lyrics were a much better option than merely singing them. Now, I have not written poetry since my school days, but what are the lyrics of a song, if not poetry to the ears?

Tara always seemed like our most likely candidate to be a writer of her thoughts, but they are still a few years away from producing rhythmic structures for words, wreaking of sentiment. Now, even I am finding that writing a mere diary entry and delivering it on a platter for you, hard enough going, but I’ve just listened to a country and western song, a chalice of what I imagine the poetry of the soul to be. I will enlighten you now!

There ain’t no stars in faded Gloryville. We’ve chased your dreams into the ground. If disillusioned  has some hope to kill. Here nobody wears a crown.

The road can break you coming down a hill, but going up is always fun. And here we are in faded Gloryville
The victory is never won. And I will not forget the good old days.
When I was driven by my will and I won’t give back all the dues I’ve paid – Here in faded glory Ville.

Lindi Ortega

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andiwebb

A Gay Dad reflecting on life in the Shires of England with my not so famous five and two rapscallion Dalmatian hounds

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