If you are of a certain age, somewhere in your house or attic or basement is a box of vinyl records. Or at least a shoebox of cassettes. What are you going to do with them? Play them? Have a picnic and dance to them? Enjoy some memories or wonder who the hell bought them? Use the titles, or the memories, approach it how ever you like - but somehow make that old box of records into a poem.....
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Make a poem from box of old records
If you are of a certain age, somewhere in your house or attic or basement is a box of vinyl records. Or at least a shoebox of cassettes. What are you going to do with them? Play them? Have a picnic and dance to them? Enjoy some memories or wonder who the hell bought them? Use the titles, or the memories, approach it how ever you like - but somehow make that old box of records into a poem.....
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A BOX OF RECORDS
ReplyDeletea pantoum
I sort my mother’s boxes of pictures,
given to me after her funeral,
her mementos saved for posterity,
some in albums, some random in boxes,
given to me after her funeral.
Some are people I know. Some I do not,
some in albums, some random in boxes.
Who is this child? This man in uniform?
Some are people I know. Some I do not.
My grandfather, my mom’s graduation
Who is this child? This man in uniform?
It might be my uncle, maybe his friend.
My grandfather, my mom’s graduation,
too many I don’t know, or how to know.
It might be my uncle, maybe his friend.
Among them, I find a box of records.
Too many I don’t know or how to know,
my mom’s Lawrence Park high school diploma
among them. I find a box of records,
open Lydia’s birth certificate.
My mom’s Lawrence Park high school diploma
The photos delightful, these make me cry.
Open Lydia’s birth certificate,
Lydia who died at just three years old.
The photos delightful, these make me cry.
her mementos saved for posterity.
Lydia who died at just three years old.
I sort my mother’s boxes of pictures.
Ah the photo record! The music video of single moments, and all the relations that hang on them, our own personal interwebs. Nicely done
DeleteGreat pantoum! Soulful and full of imagery. I went through the box right with you...
DeleteMusical Travels
ReplyDelete(Alphabet form)
Alabama wants you, but won't you please come to
Boston for the springtime? Or we could be
California dreaming, but I really wanna go home and sleep in
Detroit City. Maybe we could have quarter drafts in
Erie, PA while listening to Johnny Cash sing
Folsom Prison Blues. Yeah, someday I want to head to
Galveston where we still hear the seas when the wind blows.
Houston calls me, reminds me I'm a face with no name. My thoughts turn to
Illinois by the rivers gently flowing. I dream of going to
Jackson and people gonna stoop and bow. My feet get itchin' so
Kansas City here I come or would you rather go to
Little Rock? We came all the way from
Memphis but ended up in a
New York state of mind. This summer I hear the drumming, four dead in
Ohio and I wonder are you going to leave me wasting away on the streets of
Philadelphia? Maybe we could write our own life's song in La
Quinta, CA. Perhaps you would let me take you to
Rio, fly over the ocean like an eagle or do you know the way to
San Jose I've been away so long. Still all I want is to watch the
Tokyo skyline with you tonight. But in my heart
Utah is the land we love! This is the place! Still the West
Virginia country roads take me home while the
Witchita lineman searches for another overload.
Xanadu is a place where no one dared to go yet
Yakima, WA will always be my home. Yet, wherever I roam from
Zanzibar to Barcley Square music will always carry me along.
This is awesome, a literal box of records. I'd like to see you tighten it up a bit, but otherwise, it's a cool concept and well executed.
DeleteWOW this is indeed awesome!
DeleteYet another kind of records. And yes, reads like poetry - disturbing, sad poetry - but poetry nonetheless. Of course some right wingers are blaming President Obama for Dallas because of this speech.
ReplyDeleteall that and timely too. It's bewildering that after all this time, things are worse not better.
ReplyDeleteBonnie, this is perfectly beautiful!!! It must
ReplyDeletehave
taken a lot of work and thought. Great job!!
I really don't know what to say to this poem. It's sad that we haven't progressed...
ReplyDeleteIt was a square box
ReplyDeletea foot by a foot
full of beautiful music
full of 45's
the box was grey and red
it snapped shut
but it didn't lock us out
we had it as children
"Oh Danny Boy", "The Gypsy Rover"
"Come Down From Your Ivory Tower"
"Bolero" and "The Teddy Bear's Picnic"
"Roses Are Red My Love,
Violets Are Blue"...
As we grew we added to
mom's collection od 45's
"I Wanna Hold Your Hand",
"Twist And Shout"
artists changed
from Wayne Newton and Dinah Shore
Bing Crosby and Dean Martin
to Sonny and Cher, the Beatles,
Rolling Stones...
The grey and red box
changed hands
it was discarded
became obsolete
but the songs still
roam through my head
and I hum in my garden...
Oh yes, I remember that box of records. I had forgotten until you posted this.
DeleteYou brought back a lot of great memories with this one. I had forgotten about that box! I still remember & sing a lot of the songs. Music has always been an important part of our lives & still gets me through tough times. Wonderful write! Thanks for the memories.
Delete