I remember:
The rice cakes at the Pudding Bowl cafe,
wrapped in winter wild of
freshly bittered coffee -
strung out upon the grind
running amok from cracked red
crock, those old stained
cups
danced mystery steam
in mushroom haze
and magic
and I remember:
that candle-glow from wicker sleeves
hanging halos round
the heavy knots
of table tops – stretching
tarnished, taught
and bare
flap-jack crumbs and
fallen flowers
caressing love light
everywhere
and I remember:
knowing glances
flicking out from in between
a row of woollen brave sage beards
and revolutionary berets
as the harrowed voice of Dylan
hawked strange howls throughout
our air:
~ May you build a ladder to the stars
and climb on every rung,
may you stay forever young ~
and then:
patchouli oil and herbal scents
came calling
home to me,
painting lazy careless
star filled hair
with sparkle dark
from Scarborough Fair
where coy smiles sneak
from under flopping brims
of hats and heartthrobs
floundering.
and I remember:
Leonard Cohen crooning throat laced love
about our hearts and crazy faces:
~ So long Marianne
It’s time that we began
to laugh and cry and cry
and laugh about it all again ~
Oh
how we all craved tea and oranges
in the dissonance of our days
spaced out about
that timelessness
in a Pudding Bowl
kind of way
we danced
like we were children
and of course,
we really were
taking walks out on the wild side
like Venuses in furs.
so tonight bold rebels
yell once more
your grateful death-bed
testament
to those Levi days of yore
and how does it feel
to be in my home
with the ricochets and
rice cakes
of that pregnant Pudding Bowl?
Just ...
~ close your eyes and think of me
and call my name out loud
and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah ~
In a list
A contest entry
- days of vinyl & flowers in your hair by Nicolette.
2200 points, ended October 12, 2008, 16 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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Not surprising I scroll down and find Nic gave you gold, this is a fine reminiscence...makes me wish I was back there too
C
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this rocks the pants off of me...hip hugger belled bottom pants....with giant flowers all over them. You have suck a knack for conguring up images from days long past and setting them right in the readers lap to talk with and get acquainted with....what a brillant talent to have. I loved this piece with such such strong imagery and magicaly powerful metaphors. You are a metahpor king.
Love ya,
Shelly
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This is brilliant, takes me back to all the best loved dreams of childhood when the air sparkled with possibilities and all we needed was love. Beautiful interweaving of well-loved lyrics with such gentle but detailed description. Very sensual. Congrats on the well-deserved gold.
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Kezz . . . I have been reading many of your postings from the past and although there are many riches contained in each and every one of them, I had to revisit this piece because of how it resonated within me. There is a freedom of language in this one that allowed me to really get a grasp on where your mind has been and perhaps, even more importantly, where it is going. Keep that pen of yours flowing wild and free . . . one never knows what riches may come forward.
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"those Levi days of yore" - yep, this poem has it all here. You've even mentioned two of my favourite singers of all time - Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen
I was never part of the "mushroom haze" - lolol was perhaps a bit too young and a very good student
. Your poem really brought back the good ole days. I liked this. My one suggestion would be to delete the repetition of "i remember" - i don't think you need it more than once but that is just my opinion. Other than that, a piece I thoroughly enjoyed - wonderful mood you've created here.
Thanks for your entry.
~ Nicolette
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Oh yes!!! I think I just found another fav to add to my list . . . You and I have met once before in the past, sitting on a worn out indian carpet with the huka pipe and "Electric Music For The Body And Mind" blasting into our eardrums . . .
Peace, Marc
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oooooh....had 'shrooms once...don't ever want to go there again. lol.
my one guilty sin is keeping a couple pairs of bellbottoms that look more like parchment now.
oh, and several tapes of bands i was once in.
the glory days...yes
thanks so much for entering this piece
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You are making me hungry for rice cakes just reading this. Good luck in the contest. WELL DONE EMERALD DOG!!
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ooooooooooooooooh.... I love this
I so should have read this before I entered, lol.
Well done, and good luck
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Thank you!
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LOL...this rocks!..what an absolute pleasure to read..
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You have conjoured memories of my youth and I thank you for that. Tea and oranges that come all the way from China... Patchouli oil...
Thanks so much for reading my words. I will be back to read more of yours later. xx
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WOW - this is excellent in images and emotion! Loved it! I especially liked,
'kind of way
we danced
like we were children
and of course,
we really were
taking walks out on the wild side
like Venuses in furs.'
Excellent! Those were the days......
best wishes in the contest.
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This is wonderful. I am completely in awe, and a little bit jealous of it.
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Wow! This is awesome. So resonant with images, tastes, scents and sounds of the times.
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Thank you so much. The Pudding Bowl cafe was a Bohemian island in the beautiful, but conservative with a capital 'R', city of Worcester, in England. It has a place in my heart and a heart in my mind.
It is no longer there; these days, people prefer to go to McDonuts.
L&P, Kx
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