East Nashville Vibe
Hello and welcome to this week’s Blog.
This week I was planting some Asters in my garden and it reminded me of a poem I had written some years ago on Asters, as a metaphor for a yearning to escape the urban and return to the country. Hence the poem of the week on the home page is Wild Asters, taken from my poetry collection of the same name (published 2000).
The picture to the left is the cover pic from the collection Steam Punk Madonna, poem from the collection included in this Blog.
Wild Asters
Bursting their colors against the grasses;
Wild Asters nestled in the hills gentle palms.
Bearing mutely the city lights and glow,
Of neon on glass, neon on steel.
Apart from the urban in their pastoral calm.
From my apartment I set out to the Asters.
There in sight yet always:
Round the corner, next street, at the end of the highway,
The next intersection.
Waving; they beckon into possible beauty.
Nodding; they summon me into a could be,
Better than what is now.
Distant Asters live beyond horizon’s sight,
Where I cannot tell.
Having chosen their illusion,
On me they weave their spell.
Wild Asters was my first published collection, so it seems right to come up to date and share two poems from my latest / forthcoming collections:-
Scattered
The particles are scattered, lost.
Sounds between the gaps and corners are what you hear.
Glimpsed images, uncertain, there or not?
Faster than beyond all love or fear.
Continuous continuo in music
Harmonies of all heavenly spheres.
Beyond - all time's a concept apart from measure,
Days or years.
Scattered then sowed, into courses passing orbits,
Measured moves along the void,
Stuck into seeming finality,
Perspectives we avoid.
All scattered lost is fused
In us
In love’s
In amiable ambling
Accepting
From Steam Punk Madonna (2016)
This next one reflects my interest in Americana music, it’s along the same lines and sentiment as “Murder on Music row”, written after watching a Bob Harris TV special on the East Nashville side of Country music.
East Nashville Vibe
You can hear the Dobro, forget your pedal steel
Get out your ukulele
East Nashville keeps it roots and real
I’m tired of big hats, rhinestones,
All those re-worked formulas,
Clichés, recycled hits.
East Nash sifts out hoopla marketing
Leaves just golden nuggets bits.
We’re panning sifting keeping time
Like they did in forty nine.
Simply re-discovering the spirit
New time pioneers.
Here it’s genu-wine!
Who killed Country Music? It wasn’t so long ago
Now the artist delivers product
And cross-over’s all the go.
We’ll add a touch of Vegas
Flames and see the singers fly.
For those who love Country music
We just stare and wonder why.
From East Nashville Vibe (in preparation)
Till my next Blog, keep safe.
Louis
P.S. A little something extra for my friend Helen Askey, who shared a picture of her pen on Facebook recently.
Lines Rebirthed
Then I wrap my gold pen up,
In tissue again to sleep and wait;
On muses to feed words or lines,
Through memories gate.
A silent pause before,
The wonder of the knock.
That says “wait”, then pen paused will unblock
The birth, and rise from its hidden home,
Those thoughts that lie between the dream and waking,
A poem.
From See You in the Big Time (2011)
This Blog and all contents, copyright Louis J. Casson 2016