The breadcrumbs in my mind

This may be a long a tortuous post so you are forgiven for baling out at any stage. The inspiration of this post traces back to the repeated comments from my wife asking where on earth a particular thought came from? That and a radio programme with some Elton John music.

My thoughts are always connected, one sparking another, even if they are not always linear or obvious to others. This happened the other evening and I thought it might be interest to try and trace the path of connected memories. I will admit that I have been mentally drafting this blog as I did things like cut the lawn. These exercises spawned more connections which my complicate the retelling.

So let's start at the beginning #1 which was my wife and I driving home on Saturday evening when Paul Gambaccini announced that he was featuring Elton John and played "Don't let the sun go down on me." My wife commented that she remembered that song from listening to it when she and first met. Interesting fact: when my wife and I married we each brought over 100 LPs each and had only two duplicates- Elton John's "Greatest Hits" and Dexy's Midnight Runners' "Come On Eileen". Our musical taste remains just as diverse right up to this day.

So #2 I was thinking that while I didn't really recall that particular song, but I did recall listening to "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" with my two college flat mates one night in 1979.
I recalled writing a few lines of poetry that evening which I have kept ever since.
#3 had me thinking of other pieces of poetry I have written, a couple of which I will share at the end of this post.

The next step had me remembering two things so #4 was both my headmaster calling me an "intellectual philistine" (he was probably right back then!) and another friend telling me more recently that while I may put a few words down on paper that were not prose, that did not make me a poet. My mind started wondering about why one writes poetry and what one needs to do to qualify as a poet.

For me I write poetry to capture and express feelings and experiences that are difficult in other ways.
This had me recalling that one of my old flat mates is unfortunately dead, he died of a thrombosis, and the second suffered a serious head trauma shortly after leaving college. This erased his memories and I have subsequently lost contact with him. As result, my memories and those few lines are all that keep that evening alive.

So for #5 I thought of another poem I wrote that captured a regret I had looking back on a summer I spent working in Dounreay and living in Thurso in the north of Scotland. I was approaching my final year at university and had long enjoyed my beer and pubs in general, but I found drinking in Thurso was no fun. There were either places to get seriously drunk with no comfort, or hotel lounges populated with pensioners. As a result I didn't drink, but did a lot of walking and read a number of books by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn that I borrowed from the library. I recall reading "Cancer Ward", "The Gulag Archipelago" and "A Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich". I am sure it would have surprised my headmaster to see me reading those books.

The thoughts of my summer in Thurso then linked to #6 the previous year when I spent the summer at apprentice school in Warrington. That was my first working summer and I looked to fill my weekends. I was fortunate to have some friends I could visit, but at least one weekend I remember going into Warrington to a rock concert. I don't recall the headline band, but I do recall the support act, a punk poet called John Cooper Clark. So we are back to poetry. In fact John Cooper Clark's work has just become part of the GCSE curriculum!

Thinking about that concert started my mind exploring other acts I had seen, especially some of the less well known one such as Rockpile (Dave Edmonds, Nick Lowe, etc), Joe Jackson, The Tubes, Al Stewart who was supported by Ellen Foley. Now Ellen Foley was the female voice on Meatloaf's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light", but did not appear on the video we see these days. Ellen was blonde, but it was a dark haired lady who mimed to Ellen's vocal on the video.

I suppose that takes us pretty much full circle ie music to music.

Now could anyone follow the breadcrumbs? I wonder if others find their minds connecting ideas and memories in a similar way?

I will share (or maybe inflict) some of my poetry now.


Study Of A Bird
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I used to look at palaces
And see no further than old bricks and flaking paint!
I used to look at mountains
And only see muck and strain!
I used to see a girl, any girl
And find all the reasons for not marrying her!

Was it living?
Was it fun?
It seemed to be the way it was,
But then I knew no better.

I know when it changed.
A bird did it to me.
I never possessed her tho' I yearned to.
I have regretted it ever since.
She sat there elegant and proud.
I went back again and again.
I wanted her like none before,
But she was dear and I was poor.

I said goodbye to her that summer.
I had seen her many times.
Her imperfections meant little then.
They mean nothing now.
I started to live that summer.

I have seen Versailles and never seen a crack.
I have seen the Grand Canyon and not a speck of dirt
Sunsets and never a fly bite
The beauty of life in the chaos, confusion and uncertainty of a delivery room.
And I have known deep deep love.

The details remain,
But they have their place.
They don't crowd me
They don't chain me
Flaws and imperfections remain
In me
And all around me,
But now they add and not distract.

Though my walls have never been graced by her
My life has
I won't stop living
Nor can my eyes not see the beauty around me
She made me rich.

One World
=-=-=-=-=

One world, two views, no right or wrong

Are the stones beneath my feet
Evidence of destruction and decay
or the path to a better way?

Are the mountains I see
Warnings of destructive power
or monuments to a lasting hour?

Is that shoal I see, flashing and dancing
A single being
Or a thousand parts fleeing?

So often two people see the same thing, but don't!
Same world, two brains, no right or wrong.
Two hearts, one love, one life.

Dreaming Spires

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Oxford, city of dreams

For some, a lucky few
Fulfilled

But for most a period of
Anguish
Pain and
Tear-filled essays

From whose cocoon they will emerge as butterflies

Interestingly, though I can see it in my mind and I am sure I still have it somewhere I cannot locate the original piece of poetry in this breadcrumb trail. Maybe the memory alone has served its purpose?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad