It's approaching dawn on ANZAC day here in Los Angeles. I'm thousands of miles from home, and in a country that spends nearly as much on war as every other nation in the world combined, so I really felt the need to write about the ANZACs, and the term "Lest We Forget". To save me getting on a rant about US Foreign Policy I'm going skip to the poem I wrote just a moment ago.
My 98-year-old great-aunt still cries while telling the story of riding down to the port on her older brother's shoulders, before saying goodbye to him for what would turn out to be the last time. She tells the story like it was yesterday, not over 90 years ago. I will keep her weak old voice and teary eyes in my mind forever, and will pass the story on. I'm not writing her story in this poem, but I will another ANZAC Day.
It's also a relevant day to read my World War II based poem, To Value a Crust of Bread.
"Lest We Forget"
It could be so easy to forget
When the threats not there on our doorstep
But once men offered their lives without pay
To fight so we'd be free this day
So hopefully none of us would would have to see
The evils they saw endlessly
For if they lived and made it back home
Their dreams would return them to The Somme
Or Crete, or Giza, or Gallipoli
Or their many days of torment spent at sea
But most would never speak a word
Of that hell made of blood, fear, fire and dirt
Where they saw their best friends injured and killed
And their hands had to render these same sorts of ills
On others who also had family and friends
While knowing any moment they may meet their ends
But yet pressing ahead with bravery and strength
As they face death with fists and reddening mud in each trench
Those images will never be etched in our brains
And most of us will live for thirty-five thousand days
So at least one of those days in each three-sixty-five
We should stop and be thankful that we're free and alive
For the day we forget will soon be followed by
The day when thousands more of our loved ones die
So I'll remember the ANZACs and so will my kids
And may each new generation not be remiss
To say those 3 words "Lest we forget"
And remember their meaning for the living and dead
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
The Butterfly
I mentioned in Wednesday's post about my frustration with losing ideas before I can capture them and make them real and complete.
I was thinking about that today ~ as I tried to chase my way back through moments of inspiration that had spawned something beautiful, but which I had lost ~ when this new idea landed in my mind. This time I sat down quietly and captured it.
The Butterfly
On the flower I saw it flitter
Spotted wings of colour flapping
Slowly down, then up to pause
Maybe eating... but by no means napping
For it saw or smelt or felt me watching
Then sprung with life and leapt to flight
With me scrambling after, like a clumsy giant
Desperate to keep the thing in sight
I lost it for a moment...
Then locked it again into my gaze
And saw that it was floating lower
Onto a crumbling bail of hay
So I slowed, hoping to get up close
To capture this unique, delicate thing
In a photo, so it would not be forgotten
As a feather disappearing with the wind
I was almost there
I could make out lines and spots - red, orange, brown
When suddenly with bark and huff
Bounded over a hapless hound
The butterfly took off again
And distracted by this bag of fleas
That wondrous little creature
Very soon could not be seen
So I sat, forlorn, with filth-licked face
Against the remaining bail of hay
and before me flowed the field and hills
With trees in peaceful sway
All around was endless beauty
Sun and skies - blue, yellow, green
And as I smiled and exhaled a long slow breath
A butterfly landed on my knee
I was thinking about that today ~ as I tried to chase my way back through moments of inspiration that had spawned something beautiful, but which I had lost ~ when this new idea landed in my mind. This time I sat down quietly and captured it.
The Butterfly
On the flower I saw it flitter
Spotted wings of colour flapping
Slowly down, then up to pause
Maybe eating... but by no means napping
For it saw or smelt or felt me watching
Then sprung with life and leapt to flight
With me scrambling after, like a clumsy giant
Desperate to keep the thing in sight
I lost it for a moment...
Then locked it again into my gaze
And saw that it was floating lower
Onto a crumbling bail of hay
So I slowed, hoping to get up close
To capture this unique, delicate thing
In a photo, so it would not be forgotten
As a feather disappearing with the wind
I was almost there
I could make out lines and spots - red, orange, brown
When suddenly with bark and huff
Bounded over a hapless hound
The butterfly took off again
And distracted by this bag of fleas
That wondrous little creature
Very soon could not be seen
So I sat, forlorn, with filth-licked face
Against the remaining bail of hay
and before me flowed the field and hills
With trees in peaceful sway
All around was endless beauty
Sun and skies - blue, yellow, green
And as I smiled and exhaled a long slow breath
A butterfly landed on my knee
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
My fight to write continues...
There's a very good reason this blog is called "My Fight To Write". And I've certainly been losing the fight lately.
But that's what this is about ~ the fight. Not the "success". As much as people always tell me I should only present confidence and strength as an artist, I think that this is hardly what everyone in the world experiences. We all fight towards our goals and the direction we strive for in our lives. This is reality, and this is what I'm here to present.
This digression back to my old ways has made me realise the true worth of this blog. I'm like a relapsed drug addict. I've been writing, or at least having ideas, but the demands of getting my song recordings done, released, promoted, performances and everything else that goes with that (which is ironically all a result of this blog) has seen less ideas completed and many more not brought to life before they slipped into the ether.
This is the main thing that really gets me down in life.
Not getting my ideas out.
Not expressing myself.
Watching inspired moments fly off like a kite with no string.
When I'm committed to writing regular blog posts then I feel an urgency to get the idea from my head onto the page, so it can be used in my next entry. I grab it while it's close, rather than chase after it the next day as it floats through the air, just beyond my reach.
This helps me get things completed, which is the only way they are truly useful ~ complete. I can't perform a song, then stop part way through and say to the crowd "oh, I haven't finished that one yet." That would leave everyone involved very unsatisfied, and I'd look stupid.
With all my motivational poetry and writing (and conversation) people often think I must really have it together. I tell them that it means quite the opposite. I really struggle with motivation and positive thinking, which is why I spend so much time writing/thinking about it ~ trying to get it through my own head!
So I refer you to a poem I posted on July 19th last year.
Turn, Turn, Turn
It is about what it really means to "turn over a new leaf". And this is what I'm going to do. I've been talking about it for a while. Now it must happen, for my own sanity if nothing else.
So come back and check my blog soon. If you don't see anything new then send me an e-mail at ~ myfighttowrite@gmail.com ~ and tell me "I want to see something new!"
That would inspire me like little else could!
But that's what this is about ~ the fight. Not the "success". As much as people always tell me I should only present confidence and strength as an artist, I think that this is hardly what everyone in the world experiences. We all fight towards our goals and the direction we strive for in our lives. This is reality, and this is what I'm here to present.
This digression back to my old ways has made me realise the true worth of this blog. I'm like a relapsed drug addict. I've been writing, or at least having ideas, but the demands of getting my song recordings done, released, promoted, performances and everything else that goes with that (which is ironically all a result of this blog) has seen less ideas completed and many more not brought to life before they slipped into the ether.
This is the main thing that really gets me down in life.
Not getting my ideas out.
Not expressing myself.
Watching inspired moments fly off like a kite with no string.
When I'm committed to writing regular blog posts then I feel an urgency to get the idea from my head onto the page, so it can be used in my next entry. I grab it while it's close, rather than chase after it the next day as it floats through the air, just beyond my reach.
This helps me get things completed, which is the only way they are truly useful ~ complete. I can't perform a song, then stop part way through and say to the crowd "oh, I haven't finished that one yet." That would leave everyone involved very unsatisfied, and I'd look stupid.
With all my motivational poetry and writing (and conversation) people often think I must really have it together. I tell them that it means quite the opposite. I really struggle with motivation and positive thinking, which is why I spend so much time writing/thinking about it ~ trying to get it through my own head!
So I refer you to a poem I posted on July 19th last year.
Turn, Turn, Turn
It is about what it really means to "turn over a new leaf". And this is what I'm going to do. I've been talking about it for a while. Now it must happen, for my own sanity if nothing else.
So come back and check my blog soon. If you don't see anything new then send me an e-mail at ~ myfighttowrite@gmail.com ~ and tell me "I want to see something new!"
That would inspire me like little else could!