During the Hours – A wonderful review by the Poet Hound

 

Poet Hound

Poetry ideas, inspirational writers, and features of other valuable poetry resources.

 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Frances Livings’ During The Hours

This collection is actually on CD and set to wonderful jazz music. Three poems: Songs of the Soul, The Maliciousness of Words, and During the Hours are featured here. I will tell you that this CD was sent to me at just the right time as I was driving to a conference two hours away and I kept getting lost every single morning trying to find the hotel in downtown Jacksonville, FL. I played the CD when I was at my most frantic and it was soothing and beautiful. Frances Livings has a beautiful voice and the jazz accompaniment pairs perfectly with her words. Zane Musa on saxophone, Brandon Coleman on piano, and Paul Cartwright on violin join Ms. Livings in creating a beautiful CD that I would urge anyone to purchase. Her poems can be seen in their entirety on her website and you can also take a listen for yourself with links there to her work with live music.

Songs of the Soul is complex and lovely, I’ll admit that so many images came to mind listening to it that I have a difficult time explaining what the poem is about. It could be about lovers, musicians striving for depth, it could be about being in the spotlight, as I said, so many images you should listen for yourself.

The Maliciousness of Words is exactly that, how words have power over us and in what ways. This one has sections that made me grin, especially the line “super model boring.”

During the Hours is romantic, about two lovers and their hours together, gentle, soothing, beautiful.

Review of Frances Livings’ “During the Hours” by the Poethound

 

Donating = Loving

Please support the arts! You can purchase my music and spoken word – which I hope you will. If you find joy and inspiration in my words, and would like to provide additional support, please be lovely and consider a donation of your choosing – from anywhere between a coffee and a nice dinner. It will be deeply appreciated.

Funeral Blues…

Museums Paris, Contemporary art photography, black and white photo, clock

Another friend of mine recently died. He was far too young to leave life behind. We will always miss him. Now, after a few weeks I have started working on a new song called “White Angel’s Café” for my new and soon to be released album “The World I Am Livings In”. Writing about death is hard. It not only hurts but is one of these topics that can easily slip into clichés which end up meaning nothing. Especially since every person, every life and therefore every death is so individual.

The stages of mourning are however, universal when losing someone and summarized by psychologists as the five stages of grief. So while doing some research on the topic, I came across this poem by the English poet, playwright, critic, and librettist W. H. Auden who exerted a major influence on the poetry of the twentieth century.

His piece ‘Funeral Blues’ touched me a long time ago but it had slipped out of my mind. In my opinion, W. H. Auden deals with the depair and shock of the first phase of grieving. And like so often in his pieces, he paints versatile and inventive but also somewhat “anti-romantic” images which have even more impact on the reader because they are closer to these everyday circumstances, these banal seeming situations in which we often miss loved ones the most.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W. H. Auden

 

Another very touching short piece is by Henry Jackson van Dyke (November 10, 1852 – April 10, 1933), an American author, educator, and clergyman.

 

Time is Eternity

Time is too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love,
Time is Eternity.

Henry Van Dyke (1852 – 1933)