Oh, to be young,
as spring's fresh, meadow flower;
Scott staring longing air,
across his San Francisco bridges,
golden beauty,
still waxing moon,
with thoughts of spin in quivering middle.
Is it laugh to curving home-spun vinyl,
those tunes of rushing, bluer saturation
catching butterfly;
brass bed
bursting coiled repose
in frozen sighs of thirst,
as always,
when night is newer,
distant flutter?
I did stutter,
when eyes were speechless surprise
to blossom glowing possibility;
adventure shy,
in songs sharing
silver, silence flying high,
where elicit lips were whispered cry,
knowing world’s faraway touch
of frosted fear.
So many tears were rainy weather,
spring, as storm to melt
our hormone mountain,
dripping drops of steaming time
to unchained melodies,
when rhyme stole innocent back-seat values,
bleating thought to hand held radio.
I was me inside this haunting,
sandy dunes, rocking car,
to pleasure sung,
so love might glow,
our beach front property,
not quite enough to grace
your lovely neck
in chain of rounder gain,
singing inspiration,
pain too quickly swallowed,
by lower infatuation;
until that wind-swept graduation,
when four breezes scattered heart held matter,
our childhood sneezes expelling,
what was innocent wisdom,
to earn our way in rancid proclamations,
until last autumn's burning wheeze,
brought new and promised
inoculations.
In a list
A contest entry
- days of vinyl & flowers in your hair by Nicolette.
2200 points, ended October 12, 2008, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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this piece is soft and beautiful...a poignant look back.
my youth, now, semed much more of a frantic rushing to and fro...what with the band schedules and parties to be partied.
my most treasured vinyl was an import copy of King Crimson's 'Earthbound'...sadly, the only album they didn't transfer to cd.
i would say that i rated potential girlfriends by how much they liked the album, but that was a lie.
eye-to-eye contact and a smile was always incentive enough
thanks so much for this wonderful, poetic, entry
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This poem begins with a sigh, a deep one...jaa "to be young again" - people our age can indeed say yes to that!
I think this poem suits your name perfectly, Rich, as it is indeed a rich and multi-layered collage of memories, of music and song, of emotion, visuals, metaphors, of yesterday, today and tomorrow. It is both abstract and real, which to me indeed captures the essence of "those times".
A very moving and poignant write, and of course, beautiful too. Thank you so much for this entry.
~ Nicolette
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And amazing portrait of time, but also of a whirlwind coming of age. You descriptions were both far reaching and tangible. I love the interplay between the abstract (such as time and inspiration) with the common (such as cars and radios). It works so well to portray the period of the prompt and of a generation. Loved this!
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"I was me inside this haunting"
Boy, do I know that feeling, dear Scribe. What a poignant penning this is. (I know; never enough superlatives, so I'm bound to repeat myself). Good luck in Nic's contest, Sweetie. Sorry I haven't been around lately - I've had a cluster migraine for the past 4 days; I'm just now back at work since last Wednesday. Your words have healing in them, you know. 
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I will always read & love your poetry=)
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Rich, I keep reading this and catching your phrases in phases of light and understanding. These lines really startled me:
"until that wind-swept graduation,
when four breezes scattered matter"
There are so many kinds of winds to deal with when we are young, and the sweep of their songs rocks us in the moment at hand. It seems to change, somehow, with experience and time, and it could read, "when four breezes scatter matter"
But despite inoculations, and "never agains", I don't think we'll ever become immune to the melodies of love, we just sing them a little more softly, yes?
~Karen
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