Photo by Moses Pendleton
I came across this poem to accompany the lovely daffodil photo above – the Pendleton-Quinn backyard is a sea of daffodils at present – and I’m interested to see what you all think of it. The ending especially.
BULB PLANTING TIME
by Edgar Guest
Last night he said the dead were dead
And scoffed my faith to scorn;
I found him at a tulip bed
When I passed by at morn.
“O ho!” said I, “the frost is near
And mist is on the hills,
And yet I find you planting here
Tulips and daffodils.”
“‘Tis time to plant them now,” he said,
“If they shall bloom in Spring”;
“But every bulb,” said I, “seems dead,
And such an ugly thing.”
“The pulse of life I cannot feel,
The skin is dried and brown.
Now look!” a bulb beneath my heel
I crushed and trampled down.
In anger then he said to me:
“You’ve killed a lovely thing;
A scarlet blossom that would be
Some morning in the Spring.”
“Last night a greater sin was thine,”
To him I slowly said;
“You trampled on the dead of mine
And told me they are dead.”
I love the picture, but not sure how to interpret the poem, other than people will try to trample your dreams, but as long as you still believe, they can still bloom.
Being a gardening nut with many bulbs presently in bloom, I liked the poem. Please go over to MP’s yard and take some pics to post, would love to see in bloom. I am one of those all or nothing people, either totally into something or not at all.
Is the poem about the speakers faith in an afterlife? He is comparing the gardener’s faith that his bulbs will produce blooms in the spring, with his faith in a life after death. The end of the poem explains that the speaker has experienced a death, but has faith in afterlife. The gardener has figuratively trampled the speakers faith, expressed with this last line:
“You trampled on the dead of mine
And told me they are dead.”
I think…the guy who smushed the bulb…has issues.
At least the garden guy has some therapeutic planting to do.
I actually think they’re talking about ghosts, or spirits, or divine messages.
Another gorgeous photo by Moses. I thought we had daffodils blooming in our yard (no idea what the previous owners planted since it was winter when we moved) but it appears not, because they’re still not blooming yet. I actually think they are tulips coming up. Still waiting.
Meanwhile, my little seedling sunflowers are growing by the day and the leaves are getting fuzzy! I am so excited, and have Moses (and you, Ann!) to thank for inspiring me to try growing them.
Wow, really liked that poem, rather thought provoking. I see it as an analogy; the “dead” are never dead. They are kept alive in one’s heart, mind, and soul, blooming with works they have done in life. They will rise again in some way, as the dead bulb blooms each spring.
For centuries it was common to plant daffodils on graves and in cemeteries in many parts of Europe. That custom was brought here by the early settlers to this area (Middle Tennessee) by the English, Irish and Scottish. I work with our local historic society to identify, map, research and sometimes maintain and clean historic cemeteries. Our work is done mainly in the winter and early spring when the foliage and ticks are gone. One of our methods of finding “lost” cemeteries in the spring is to look for daffodils. If left undisturbed these bulbs can bloom for over a hundred years. We have found many cemeteries in deep woods by the daffodils and indentations in the ground. It’s not an exact science but it is certainly a piece of the puzzle when looking for these old burial grounds. Daffodils symbolize rebirth and hope. I think the last lines in the poem “you trampled on the dead of mine and told me they were dead” speaks to the “non believer” in this symbolism.
Beautiful photo! Oh, how I love daffodil time. I find them so wonderfully cheerful!
Amanda, what wonderful information about daffodils and cemeteries. I had no idea! I love that — that in searching for old or “lost” cemeteries, look for daffodils. How poetic! The work you do with the historic society sounds really interesting.
Great last stanza to the poem; a bit of a surprise and suddenly so changes the mood. I think Cynthia put it very well. As she said, to me it seems the speaker and the gardener in the poem had some sort of exchange the night before where he scoffed at and scorned her faith in an immortal spirit or soul existing beyond physical death. Here at the end she is pointing out what she sees as irony in his easy acceptance of a similar faith that the tulips in fact live on despite the appearance of death. He’s angry that she crushed the tulip bulb, but she did it to make the point that his scorn of her faith the night before was hurtful to her and a more significant affront (“a greater sin” ), as it was regarding more important things.
Buttercups! Mine (replanted in containers) did not bloom this year. But hope springs eternal — my freesias were beautiful, and I had completely forgotten about them. Goes to show you don’t always reap what you sow.
I probably should have spent a some time and made that last post a poem, but I’m just a little worn out from last weekend.
Dave, you coulda been a contenda with your puppy poem. Definitely has that “ick” factor.
Arliss has it exactly right. The last stanza brings us back to the affront of the first, and puts the ‘sins’ into the perspective of the stomper of bulbs.
We all hate to have our faith disparaged. I had a 14 year old kid in a Sunday School class I taught once who was determined to be an atheist. He told me he couldn’t generate any interest for something for which there was no evidence. I told him I thought there was a lot of evidence. He said he was thinking in terms of scientific evidence. I asked him what did interest him. His reply: dragonology.
I hate to say it now, but I immediately stomped on his bulbs. Yes I did. It was too great a temptation to resist.
We had a lovely little iris come up next to our front door last week. Picture here:
http://daysoflivingaimlessly.blogspot.com/2010/04/aimless-philosophy-101.html
Enjoy.
Arliss, you are so wonderfully articulate!
I will get to the poem in a sec… but first
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUeMgZrLO8s&feature=fvw
Just had to…
Thank you for that, Guadalupe. Sometimes you see flowers blooming unexpectedly by your front door, and sometimes you chance upon a serendipity so totally awesome that even after you discover you’ve been set up and busted on camera, it’s still worth it. The smiles are the best part. You just know that they are thanking Jesus.
I know that this is not specific to the poem for today, but I thought I would share.. April is actually National Poetry Month and April 29th is Poem in Your Pocket Day. It is a very simple idea. Find a poem that you particularly love and enjoy, copy it it and carry it in your pocket that day to share with family, friends and co-workers. My school is celebrating the day next week ( we have state testing the 29th) The students will create or find a poem, then they are encouraged to share the poem with their class or another class. We are then going to illustrate and display the work.
It is well known here that I am not a poetry afficionado, but I think it’s a terrific idea!! Being a Math teacher, I’m hoping to gently steer my students to be mathematically creative: a poem about Para”ll”el lines
R
I
ANGLES
H
T
(you get the idea !)
Anyway, Amanda your information was so interesting. I tend to agree with your assessment of the poem, relating to rebirth, hope and the trampling on on these beliefs by another.
I was so much better before it posted…..
R
I
ANGLES
H
T
Hope it works this time !
To me the speaker is saying “there’s no difference between my smashing your dead bulbs and you scoffing at my faith that the dead live on in beautiful ways.” Arliss said this much better, but I thought I’d give it a stab. It’s interesting because my parents have been married 49 years and my mom is very spiritual and my dad is an athiest. They’ve had lots of conversations in this “bulb smashing” vein.
And P.S. – if you’re a couple with kids and one of you is spiritual and the other is an athiest, save up now for therapy for your children later.
Catherine, you are way too kind, thank you. : ) Jonah, so funny about the 14-year-old and “stomping on his bulbs”! And what a beautiful photo of an iris you posted, love that.
And wow, Cat, the atheist-vs.-spiritual person dynamic can be challenging to be around (though certainly interesting), but it sure might not be easy for a child!
Barbara, I love the idea of “Poem in Your Pocket Day”! Thanks so much for sharing that info. That’s great! I’m definitely going to bring it up and see if we can have fun with it at my daughter’s school.
Lupe, wow … I was expecting an innocent video about flowers!
Barbara, for Poem in your Pocket Day:
i carry your heart with me( i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
by e.e. cummings That is only the first verse, but immediately thought of you and your class.
I have to say I was taken by surprise and sort of amused by the final stanza because the narrator had seemed like such an affable sort and then it turned out he was harboring this huge grudge from a conversation they had had the night before.
Amanda, that’s so interesting about the daffodils and the cemeteries. I’ve been riding in the woods a lot lately, and there’s no foliage yet, no ferns or leaves and you can see all sorts of stuff sprouting up that must have been planted when these woods were open fields.
Cat, I loved how you put it earlier, re the poem, “the dead live on in beautiful ways.”
And Jonah, I meant to offer an “LOL” to your “You just know that they are thanking Jesus”!
Barbara, love the right angles! That I get!
Amanda pretty interesting information about finding old burial grounds!
Ann, I only read the poem twice. I have learned to not over-read poetry. It seems the above poem was written in code and needs a little bit of translating. I think I need to be a student in Phil’s class. I still need help! Why couldn’t the poet just write:
The man says, “Please plant the bulb.”
The woman says, “It’s ugly.”
The man responds, “So what?!”
The woman accidentally steps on the bulb.
The man freaks out and says, “You klutz! Watch where your walking!!!!” OR “You did that on purpose!”
The woman responds, “You always hated my family and never planted a thing for them or me!”
They then go into counseling and never speak of flowers or bulbs again!
Now that I would understand.
OMG, I really need Phil!
Lupe, I’m with Arliss, I was expecting an innocent video about flowers! And really, what man wouldn’t have a little glance up – ha. Just too tempting.
Barbara, I liked your RIGHT ANGLES poem. Very clever! (Math was my favorite subject in school, I’m sure I’ve told you before.)
Jonah – dragonology – kids are priceless.
Amanda – you have a cool job and very befitting of today’s poem.
And Ann, I did sense a definite grudge-holding in the last stanza. I thought it was sort of funny. My mom doesn’t hold grudges with my dad, she just gives him the raspberry when he ticks her off in the area of theology. I think that’s how they’ve lasted 49 years. They both have great senses of humor!
This part:
The pulse of life I cannot feel,
The skin is dried and brown.
Now look!” a bulb beneath my heel
I crushed and trampled down.
brought to mind some tipsy aunties of mine commenting on the antics of sexy, young 20 somethings at a recent family gathering.
They had forgotten their own promises of youth it seemed and some of them did have dired, brown skin. : )
Lupe, too funny, loved it.
The poem gets ‘pissy’ at the end. Ann deciphered that the fellow was hanging to a grudge from the night before… what, he didn’t get any (attention)?. I would have thought he was a russian poem person, who lost his footing, in more way than one.
God I am terrible.
Just not in the mood for poems today…for some reason. I am excited to LEAVE here and I STILL have me FOUR finals and FIVE weeks. I wonder if I have ‘what it takes’.. or not?
A good thing to have choices, although, there is a price to pay. And by the way, this drier (the facility) takes money but does not dry and I am not looking forward to packing wet clothing or anything… so must go get some more quarters… so you ALL know….
And Mary Lynn, you lucked out with the flowers.. this time. Usually, albeit a miracle, if you as much as look at them the wrong way, they wilt… specially the ones you just purchased at the nursery store… if I remember correctly.
And in preparation for a paper I want to write, I have been doing drills on line and reading/listening documentaries of WWII, that precluded the also pissy mood of the film noir peoples, who really carried their sadness and disappointment with a vengance (onto the screen, that is). And it is an emotional thing and then some for me, since it reminds me of the way things were where I grew up. And then, I am IN LOVE with one of the people in the news. I certainly need a break. Suddenly, and not different than the way a mushroom sprouts after the rain, I just love this person or his persona, or my imagination or both. I need help:)
Notes from ‘the road’.
I am in this semi private room in this hostel place in Holly…land. I see a bottle of vozka, 1/2 gallon size AND another jug of water next to it. I think I am drunk just from the fumes. Youth…. The owner is a beautiful and young girl from switzerland, I believe.
I have no idea of what I was doing at her age, as I do not remember!, but it did not involve either item. More like coffee and cigs.. I recall. I am not saying it is bad, I am saying that it it.
Lots and lots of people, all younger for the most part, from all over the world. Nice to see. All kinds of languages, and a good feeling to understand some of what they are saying. Most of them are lovely young kids, doing their thing, exploring Los Angeles, caryrying humongous bacpacks and more bags, and wearing layers of clothing, NOT because it is cold, but because it no longer fits in the luggage. I smile for the parents (in my head, I do nto act out in public, guys).
One young one from Iceland, was on the phone with his parents, for two reasons (1) run out of money (2) to discuss the eruption of the volcano… crafty little critter, taller than a redwood tree and with spiked blond hair that makes him look soooo adorable, but I do not envy his mom
.
Another one, whose parents reside in Washington state growing apples and making beer, calling his mom because he got into a pickle selling stuff on Ebay and the lady he did the deals with was incarcerated as some 8,600.00 worth of goods did not get a darn thing. LAPD involved. He is fine… I think the mom sent him the missing funds… I donot miss his mom either. I am telling you. Glad mine are grown and glad I probably do not know what did the do.
All and all, this takes more energy that I have got. And now? I want to go explore Andalucia, Spain and practice my bolillos making (ancient lace making). Something IS wrong with my head.
And tomorrow, it is the coach-train combo up the length of the state for more bouncy bouncy picture taking episodes and some old fashion old train ride. It goes through small towns and really close to the ocean and I love that, but at the end I have to relearn how to walk, to my car this time.
More latter
Now that’s a great poem.
I think she’s angry with him for scoffing at her hopes of seeing her dead loved ones again, and of course, he’s mad at her for quashing his hopes of seeing his flowers come to life in the spring. I like the way she expressed her anger.
I just got home from Philly, where the cherry trees are in full bloom. It was absolutely beautiful. I didn’t even need a cheesesteak sandwich to brighten my day.
Amanda, that is fascinating! I love history and your job sounds marvelous. Really. Would love to know more. Do you find out who is buried in these lost cemeteries?
I do notice up here on back roads, there are a lot of small, family cemeteries on large farm properties. So interesting.
Barbara, Poem in Your Pocket Day sounds great! I really need to go find a favorite poem. And although I stink (no-really – I really stink) at math, I think you would have been one of those teachers that made me “get it.”
I also find it interesting that some of you thought it was a male/ female interaction…I assumed it was two men. So I imagined a heated argument in a pub the night before.
the tulip guy said bah they are dead and its all over look at them. Shes all like well look your stupid bulbs they are dead -means death is not the end just because your body is all shriveled up and dead looking.
KC, you raise an interesting point. I assumed it was a man and a woman…a married couple. Interesting. I wonder what that means. Must read it again to see if I missed something important about gender – ha.
Once again, today’s conversation totally pertains to my life. I was out perusing my gardens this morning and came upon a tiny shoot of scarlet, peeping up an inch from the mulch. Much to my surprise, it is a miraculous recovery of a tiny red peony I planted last year that was immediately scarfed down by bunnies. I was so sad when they ate my baby peony (my favorite flower!) that I had found on clearance for like $3 and bought despite its sad appearance. I remember looking at her, tiny plant in a big dry pot, and thinking, I must SAVE her!
Because oh, people! I am not only a sucker for homeless animals, I’m also a giant sucker for clearance perennials sitting alone, forlorn, and bone-dry on a dark shelf… As such, my gardens have no rhyme or reason and are filled with un-matching plants (so much for my grandiose plans of orderly beds).
I don’t even bother buying full-price plants anymore because I know a month later I’ll be putting the seats down in the Jeep and filling the back with half-dead plants. Such was the case with the baby peony, and I can’t tell you how excited and thankful I am that she decided to survive not only decimation by rabbits but a harsh Wisconsin winter.
Go, little red peony, go!
Lisa M,
Such a nice story!
Yay, red peony! I love that!
How neat that you rescue those forlorn plants. I always feel sorry for them too. : )
Lisa M., I love your little red peony story. What a survivor!
I love the poem, and I can totally picture two men like KC said — brothers maybe.
Amanda I just checked on an old cemetery on Murfreesboro Pike via Google maps, and it is gone — leveled — bulldozed. Maybe you know something about it, it featured a rather large monument — the approximate address is 2538 Murfreesboro Pike. I love Mt. Olivet, it has some amazing memorials — Adelicia Acklen’s angel with chalice and three pills in her hand is legendary, but my favorite is the bare torso male Egyptian angel — I’ve never seen anything quite like him. I used to eat lunch in Mt. Olivet quite often.
Lisa, I had a dollar bare root rose bush that I had in San Fran, and then relocated to my parents place in Sonoma County when I moved.
I wouldn’t produce many flowers, but the ones that it did were spectacular. One morning my mom looked out the window to see a deer eating a singular beautiful bloom that the bush had proudly produced (and my mother had admired). She ran Bambi off, but alas it was too late.
Deer lips seem so sweet and soft,
but damage they can do,
when tiptoeing through the garden,
in the soft morning dew.
Okay, no more poems for awhile . . . even though that one showed promise.
This talk of lone flowers being eaten by animals reminds me of one of my favorite stories of all time. In The Little Prince, the title character worried so much whether his much-loved single rose bush on his tiny planet was safe from being eaten by sheep … sigh. Such a sweet, sweet story.
Nice poem, Mary Lynn. : )
Amanda – your post was fascinating. I worked in a cemetery (burials went back to the 1600s) for almost 3 years burying/cremating the dead and I have heard a few tales but never that. Very interesting.
Did I hear Christine say she needed me? Can’t resist that. It’s like this. The worldly man denies the woman’s faith in the afterlife. She catches him planting bulbs the next morning (it’s fall, bulb planting time). She remarks how ugly and liefless the bulbs appear and (to teach him a lesson) squashes one on purpose. He protests, saying the bulb would have been a beautiful flower in the spring. She replies that he had done the same thing to her belief in life after death the night before. He said the dead were dead once and for all. He should have taken a hint from his flower bulbs, he had resurrection right there in his hand. Hope that helps, Christine!
Phil, Thank you. Stick around, please.
Kim, you worked in a cemetery? Now I know where the ex-husbands went.
Well, Phil says the poem’s characters are a man and a woman, and some of you have also thought the narrator was a woman. My take is similar to KCs. I pictured two men who got into a heated debate the night before in a pub. The narrator’s wounds are still pretty fresh the next morning, and he finds retribution. A pretty surprising end, for sure.
Kim, how cool you worked in a cemetery. Nobody to give you a hard time! I love old graveyards, they’re a part of local history and sacred ground that I believe should be preserved and cherished by communities. Unfortunately that’s not always the case. There are developers that will look the other way when they come across human remains or an old cemetery. I know an archaeologist who was restoring some gravestones at an old cemetery next door to where they were putting in a fast food joint. The day long sound of jackhammering suddenly stopped and he looked over to see a worker holding a human femur. When he approached the guy and told him what he thought it was the guy insisted it was an animal bone and they continued to work. Archaeologist had to call the police and they got a stop work order. Turns out the bones were from an unknown Union soldier (they found a button along with bones and nails from his boots) from the Civil War. Several months later the soldier was reburied with full military honors in a local cemetery.
The work we do is to document these cemeteries so it will be harder for them to fall to development and to help people find ancestors through genealogical research. Most information we have as to the location of these cemeteries is at least 30 years old. A document will say “…..go down the old farm road and turn left at the large grove of Elm trees….the cemetery is next to old man Smith’s house.” Well, Farmer Smith and his farmhouse are long gone now so it can be a challenge. We use GPS to record exact locations, take digital photos and transcribe what’s on the stones (if there are any). Sometime we come across family plots with markers that also have slave burials nearby (this is the south) but those were usually just marked with field stones and are lost forever.
You all are lucky there in the Northeast to have such old burial grounds. Our first settlers came here in 1799 but you have all those cool 1600′s grave stones with the beautiful iconography of angels and skulls and colorful epitaphs. If you’re ever in NYC check out the graveyard at Trinity Church downtown. It’s amazing it’s been there in the heart of the city and was basically untouched by the WTC collapse.
Mary Lynn, I will have to do some research to see what happened to the marker on Mufreesboro Rd. Nashville Cemetery downtown is a great place to walk also but the homeless think so too so you have to go with a buddy. Or a big dog.
Phil, thanks so much. I went back to the poem and read again, now I must say I really like it. Please don’t be a stranger, we can sure use your help. Curious, what is it you teach over there on the other side of the world? Lisa M., I love saving dried up plants too. Go behind the Home Depot at night or early in the morning, they simply threw away the plants when they start to look bad. Some good pickins back there. Amanda, I know I have a lot of family buried in Perry County, Tn on my moms’ side. My aunt has been searching old grave yards for graves of the family there.
I still believe the narrator of the poem is a man. What woman, even in Victorian times (will have to check date of poem but it feels Victorian) said things like “o ho!” And the trampling of the bulb with the heel. Seems so hostile and aggressive. On the other hand, my husband would argue that only a woman would still be angry about last night’s conversation the next day.
There’s no clue as to the sex of the narrator within the text unless you count the vengeful stomping of the ‘lovely thing’ as testosterone toxicity. The poet is a man, or so it would seem–not a boy named ‘Sue’ in any event–so I think it’s two men having a dispute. I have to confess that in my first reading I also thought the narrator was a woman, but realized after some reflection that was because initially I thought Ann was the author. I don’t know why.
I like this poem a little more with each reading. It seems such a simple thing at first, but then the last stanza stuns you a little with the realization that more is going on than you first thought. I like the way ‘morn’ in the first stanza and ‘morning’ in the next to last suggest ‘mourn’ and ‘mourning’ in context, and help point up the similarities between planting bulbs and burying the deceased, between dormant husks and dried up corpses.
I’d like to thank you all for this lively discussion. I’m new here so maybe you all are used to this kind of exchange, but the last conversation I had with any passion to it involved in-substance defeasance of advance-refunding bond issues…just not the same thing.
Jonah observed that “the last conversation I had with any passion to it involved in-substance defeasance of advance-refunding bond issues….”
Well, nothing quite beats a passionate conversation about in-substance defeasance of advance-refunding bond issues, but we try our best here anyway. Welcome aboard!
Phil, thank you! What you wrote makes perfect sense. My problem is I’m too mathematical. I’m glad that I did get one part right in my attempt to be funny – the part about the man accusing the woman of stepping on the bulb on purpose.
Phil you should have a helpline for people like me.
Jonah, I think you need a vacation.
Damn Jonah, you’re good.
Wish you were right, Aislinn, but I’ve been unemployed for 18 months and counting. Rather than a vacation I need an income before I’m numbered among the homeless guys frightening Amanda at the Mufreesboro Rd. Nashville Cemetery.
Alan, you always make me laugh and I love you for it. I am in a rough patch right now and it does feel so good to chuckle. Good night to all.
The poem was a moving one for me. I read a lot of poetry when I worked at a cemetery….not that I know a lot about poetry but it was almost therapeutical for me. On my lunch hour – I would sit on a bench at a grave……..any grave but I would find an area with a beautiful birch or Wisteria. When I was employed by this cemetery – I began by just answering phones. My interest increased and I befriended “THE” person that exclusively handled burials and cremations. She was a tough cooky and I adored her for her respect and “appropriateness” that she had for different religions and also for her, lack of a better word “open ness” in regards to the wishes of families. I mentioned this before in previous posts – I dealt with scrolls that were perhaps hundreds of years old. I had to – because nothing was electronic and you had to contend with them because you could not bury another body in the same place. Some bodies were head to head or foot to foot or 6 ft to 8 ft down. I also had to deal with families that wanted to exhume the bodies which were difficult because in my time there…..they were children. The ceremonies were fun. Most Hindu bring dead pigs and incense, lots of dancing……….but the crew had to clean up the mess. It was fascinating to me and even today – I am on a first name basis with most of the funeral directors locally around me. funny. I found it to be fascinating……….but they screwed me on overtime – so the labor board had to slap them silly.
Also……I just want to add which is important to me……Very. During the time I was working at the cemetery – I lost my White Shepherd. He was scheduled for surgery a day later and I received a phone call at work that it was not a ligament thing. He had bone cancer. I immediately fell apart. (It took me 5 years to get another dog). So…I had to put him down. It had metastized. When I was ready (after about 2 weeks) – I went back to work. At day end, I was getting into my car and this woman who worked there (I did not know her) approached me with a white stuffed animal with wings and said to me “This is for you and it is from Max”. Long story short……..she and I became very good friends. Max was buried at the cemetery and it was her son. He was 10 years old when he died from Spina Bifida. She told me that he was with “Gunnar” my white shepherd and Max wanted me to have the white stuffed animal. Of course, I lost it ………lost it totally…..for myself and for her – losing a child at that age (or any age for that matter). But it always got to me that a total stranger came into my face and felt what I was feeling at that time surrounded by graves. I don’t know. It was SO cathartic. Did not mean to be depressing for anyone but I guess I just had a “think back” moment. Right back to that place. My point is – you just find these incredible people that just show up when no one else necessarily does. Strangers. How great is that?
Kim, what great stories about your time working at the cemetery. I agree, sometimes people just show up in our life at just the right moment. Synchronicity.
Candy, I am sending you a gentle hug tonight.
And Jonah, I visited your blog, and really enjoyed your essays. You are one wicked good writer. Write a book!
Well – I will tell you this ——Ann – I know you said you were going to see the play but tomorrow for us……..its Christopher Walken day. “A Behanding in Spokane”. We see the play at 2 tomorrow. I heard the play sucks but he’s great. Can’t wait (its well deserved – what a hell week this was). Can’t wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sandra: thank you
………..and Jonah – I agree – you ARE a wicked writer!!!!
I was taken aback to see that some of you picture the ‘stomper on bulbs’ as a man, but of course you’re completely within your rights, as there’s no indication whatsoever of the sex of the “I” in the poem. We all project from our own experience. That the poet is a man offers no clue (think of Emily Dickinson writing, ” Yet when a boy…” in “A Narrow Fellow in the Grass”). To me the two seemed like a couple, like the one in Frost’s “West Running Brook.” But to each his (or her!) own.
Thanks Sandra, Kim, Catherine. You all are too kind. For the record, I am writing a book–now racing to finish before I come to the end of my meager wherewithal.
Kim, in the latest issue of The New Yorker, there’s a wonderful article about a recent visit by Christopher Walken to his boyhood neighborhood in Astoria, Queens. The article can be found online at: http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2010/04/19/100419ta_talk_stevenson
(“More cowbell!”)
Alan – thank you so much for the link – that article is hysterical. He’s a very very funny guy. I don’t think he trys to be at all.
Alan thanks for posting the link about Christopher Walken. I grew up in Queens, I didn’t know that he did. One of my favorite SNL skits was the one with ‘more cow bell…I got a fever….’ He was the only one in that skit that kept a straight face. I also loved the SNL skit on ‘sofa king great’ etc.
I liked the Chistopher Walken piece. I use Google street view to visit my old haunts. Most of them haven’t changed one bit. Maybe different paint, or a different business — it is a fun way to take a virtual walk down memory lane. My grandparents’ houses are still standing.
Kim, it is so fascinating that you worked in a Mortuary/Crematory. I think I’ve recommended “The Loved One” by Evelyn Waugh before, here is a marvelous scene from the movie with Liberace selling an interment package.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oymjPBjYLQ
Y’all should know better than to get me talking about funerals, or burial rituals, or cemeteries . . .
“The Loved One” is based on Forest Lawn in the Hollywood Hills (and Glendale), and I do so want to be laid to rest there. . . near my idols of course, who are near Bette Davis, and Liberace.
Here is a wonderful tribute video for the movie “The Loved One” –
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfLiD46KARw&feature=related
The book is great . . . and well, the movie is pretty great, too! Enjoy.
Jonah, I feel your pain brother. I was unemployed for about a year, and for last year or so I have been “under-employed”, and at times working but not being paid. Welcome to the Great Recession (like Las Vegas, we can’t wait until you leave.) People ask me how I get by, and I basically say “I don’t know”, or “I don’t” which pretty much sums it up.
I earn less than two-thirds of what my basic (and I mean really basic) living expenses are. I’ve begged, borrowed, and sold off most of my valued possessions to pay my bills. I’m worse than broke — I’m deep in debt, going deeper every day. I can’t find a job (13.4% unemployment in Nevada) that pays more, and the one I have could end any day.
To top it all off, after earning an amount so low last year I’m embarrassed to disclose it, I owe Uncle Sam $400 in taxes!!! Suffice it to say last Wednesday, I filed an extension. I can’t rub two nickels together for heat, and the IRS expects me to cough up 4 Benjamins???!!! Are they serious?
I am single, no children, and do not own a home — I am taxed to death, as I have no deductions. Aside from a few months of collecting unemployment in my life, I have never received any kind of government assistance.
Am I bitter? — well, yes, I am. . . but the sun is shining, and the birds are singing, and we just have to pull together and try to survive. Okay, cue the violins.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwKtnhO-gss&feature=PlayList&p=6422491535EA1359&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=30
Picture me picturing the money I had in good times. There were good times.
Gotta do a Ray Price twin spin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2UVs2OB9BI&NR=1
I just love these sad songs — this one is the best answer to “love conquers all” I’ve ever heard.
Yes Jonah, love your writing. Both sites. Hopefully everyone has seen the Christopher Walken film; Maiden heist. Totally cracks me up. With Marcia Gay Harden, William Macy and Morgan Freeman. It’s the go to movie for an enjoyable evening. If not, run right out and rent it. I just said ‘Maiden Heist with Christopher Walken’ to my husband and son. That’s all it took, they started cracking up. So fascinating about the tulips and old cemeteries. This has everybody steely eyed when we travel through countryside or forest. Hey an adult version of the eye-spy game.
Love Christopher Walken on SNL as ‘The Continental’…….”would you like some cham-pon-ya?”
http://video.yahoo.com/watch/148995?fr=yvmtf
Just couldn’t help but comment about this poem, it’s so relevant to these times…Here we have two humans, each with a faith in something, one in the regeneration of beauty in flowers, the other, a faith in the movement of souls to a hereafter, yet they enter into a conflict about their faiths that end in an act of violence. So appropriate, when our world is now in a conflict of faiths, mainly Islam versus Christianity, causing acts of terrorism and wars, and these old conflicting forces about faith go back many centuries. How strange we humans are, that we so readily abandon words and so often resort to violence to try to prove our point.
Thank you Phil for your poetic insights, and for you, Ann, for your beautiful idea to beckon us bad poets to explore such glorious and foreign terrain. Now that the contest is over, here’s my contribution to bad poetry:
Nature Understood, Mysterious Humans
Entranced by lightening in a springtime storm, I moved in
quaking footsteps through thunderous in-and-out darkness,
inspired, alone. I remember as a boy my first dawn spring rain, the symphony of birds singing rivaled Beethoven’s best. I wondered why these joyful sounds of nature? I
suddenly knew the birds were singing for the feast to come, the insects, especially worms, would get busy in the roots,
then drink and ascend to the topsoil, higher up in the blossoms, other insects would be gulping the nectar, only to be consumed by birds swooping and swooning in flight to devour their delicious and fattened prey, in a duel of mutual, blissful consumption. Such a simple thing, rain, to
enrapture my winged and scaly friends. What in this world could have impassioned me such? The new beautiful girl that just moved in next door? The cry of ‘Play Ball,” in the springtime of my youth? Auden’s poetry in every form? The haunting darkness of Poe? Shakespeare writing only three known letters to anyone? I’ll stay with the mysteries of
nature, they are less demanding for this old, almost quiet and gentle heart. Some perceive a gentle heart as a weakness. When once asked, “Whom in the world of the last century would I like to spend an entire day with?” I did not answer, Eliot, Shaw, O’Neil or Roosevelt, or any true creator, but answered, Hitler, for I knew why and how I must create to stay fully engaged and alive to enjoy this world. Yet maybe in one day, I could learn what creates destroyers like Hitler, probably not, the ultimate destroyers are the greatest mysteries, but just to be given a chance for such an encounter to probe the dankness of man, this gentle heart would risk all to even slightly discern the source of monsters. I do not fear the destroyers of this world, I rage against those who stay on the sidelines and think they can be innocent bystanders when all hell is breaking loose, and their answer is, “It’s not my problem.” When around 80% of all humans on our planet are living in a dangerous state of poverty, it is our problem, and none of us can claim innocence to this
overwhelmingly inhumane fact, for to do so would be unnatural…
Your mostly silent pal, Brent
Amanda – Love, love the “Continental”. How about Walken singing/talking “Poker Face” on SNL. That destroyed me. We saw the play yesterday and he was just fantastic and true to form………..bizzaro as only Walken can me with that tone and that deliverence of deliberate words. Hair long and straggly. His character “Mr. Carmichael” had one hand. The story centers on his search for the past 40 years for his other hand. You get my drift. A very very funny play. We ate at a lovely restaurant in Grand Central “Cipriani Dolce”. The food was to die for. Joe’s childhood friend is an executive at Cipriani’s so we got the royal treatment. It was a very lovely day.
Since many of you are Walken fans you must see Suicide Kings
one of the funniest movies ever and Ann’s husband, Denis is brilliant in it!!! I could watch it over and over the writing is superb.
Hang in there Mary Lynn times are tough for lots of folks. I am working at a Jewish Center at 7am on a Sunday morning and I’m not Jewish! Just make sure your cable bill is paid so you can watch TCM
Thanks Kathy,
I’m doing what I can, so far I am current on all my bills (except my taxes), and I do take pride in that. Gotta keep the lights, the computer, and the TV on!
I made the mistake of moving to Recession Central (Las Vegas), but if I can make it here . . . this town is all boom and bust, there is little inbetween — never a dull moment.
I’m going to go see Tony Curtis at the library this afternoon. I picked up “My Antonia” and I love it.
Last Monday, April the 12th, I had one of those strange encounters . . .
I was in the Supermarket picking up my favorite yogurt (which is often out of stock). There were three small containers left, and I could only reach the two in the front. I see a beautiful tall, older woman approaching. She has a lovely grey bob, blue eyes, and is very stylishly dressed with a pale blue smock, and a diaphanous white scarf delicately embroidered with silver around her neck. Her shoes are pointy toed heels with strappy accents.
I ask her for help reaching the yogurt, and we begin to talk. She is suffering from a sort of blocked esophagous and is looking for soft foods and liquids to keep her nourished until she can go in for a procedure on Wednesday. I recommend the yogurt, and I take note of her accent. We start talking about health in general — I tell her of my vertigo, and she tells me more about her situation. The conversation leans towards spirituality, and she tells me that she doesn’t specifically practice any one religion anymore, but does believe in a higher power, and eludes to angels. We then talk about near death experiences, which we both share.
I start to get that weird feeling that I know what she is going to tell me . . . I’m also feeling guilty for taking the last of the small containers of plain yogurt, after recommending it so highly (I gave her a large container, so she could read the label).
I ask her name. It is Renee, she is French. My nephew is named Rene (his mother is French), and I worked for a man named Rene from Amsterdam. She points out the differance between the one and two ees.
She looks at the yogurt, which is called “Lucerne” — the store brand I grew up with in Northern California, and then picks up the “Yoplait”. She tells me she doesn’t like “Yoplait” anymore, and studies the “Lucerne”.
I offer her one of my small containers, but she refuses.
I knew that April 12th was the 60th Anniversary of Eisenhowers’ trip to the concentration camps, and now I know she is going to tell me something very personal. She looks down and says under her breath “I am Jewish”. I tell her that my sister-in-law’s mother spent time in the camps and had a wrist tattoo. Renee tells me that she lost both her parents at that time, and that she survived — due to “her looks”. She was thirteen. I know exactly what she means. Tall, fair, blond haired, blue-eyed, with a dancer’s body and carriage, she was spared.
I told her that I would think of her, and mentally send her my best wishes on the day of her procedure. We parted.
Oh, and the daffodils inspired me to leave flowers and a note at Bobbie Nudie’s find-a-grave site. I didn’t mean to post it twice . . . got an error message the first time. A Bobbie fan left a heart-shaped diamond which touched me so, I copied and pasted it again. I was just writing scenes about Nudie giving Bobbie her diamond (it is pear-shaped, not heart-shaped), but I might take a little poetic license there. Anyway, here is the link.
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=14014293
Bobbie is proving more popular than her husband.
“I think of you always, especially in Spring.
When beauty lights on memories, and every living thing.”
I kinda like it.
http://open.salon.com/blog/velina/2009/02/06/so_funny_i_did_not_change_a_word
Just catching up, Kim I breezed thru Kenosha this weekend, went up to Delevan. I luv Wisc. Ann, I just read the post from Alan on C. Walken, does he live by you at all in CT? Back out for more yard work.
Kathy Close, thanks for mentioning Suicide Kings. I met Christopher Walken for the first time when they were shooting that film.
Should I delete the previous comment called “Another very funny blog post….”? I don’t think it’s that funny, but have never deleted anyone. You’re all so nice. You guys make the call. Meanwhile, I’ll cook up a new blog post ASAP.
Ann,
Yes, Delete! If someone wants to post, use a name. Not to be harsh, but why post that?
Ann, I don’t find the “funny post” funny, but it’s not too offensive. It’s actually an old story about a letter that an Austin, TX reporter wrote in to a website that was asking people to write letters that they “wish” they could send. It was never sent to Proctor & Gamble. It became an internet sensation in 2009, I believe. It’s just dumb.
Mary Lynn, I hope your employment situation improves. You’re such an intelligent, vivacious woman. I don’t understand.
That goes for you too, Jonah. Keep the faith, both of you. Better days ahead.
Ann, I just read your post, and I didn’t think it was that funny either, but I don’t think you need to delete it.
Ann, I have seen that ‘letter’ to Proctor and Gamble before in a joke email that gets sent around about once every year. Not funny anymore. Do you know this Velina? If not then it’s not a very nice way to promote her blog. Kind of sneaky. My vote-delete. (sorry Velina)
Cyn, I take it you weren’t the letter writer from Austin, Texas?
Signed
Aislinn (not her real name)
Ais, I’m from Dallas!! Not Austin.
Ann, if it’s work to delete, don’t worry about it, but I still
think someone went to the trouble to post without a real name, and what they did is rude!
Cyn, oopsy doodle.
Ais, or who ever you are,
You make me laugh! May I see your driver’s license young lady?
Sincerely,
Crazy Woman from Texas
Ann, I saw your Tweet about the Tim Burton exhibit at MOMA. I saw it two weeks ago. Tim Burton’s mind is like no other. Bizarre.
It’s not a huge exhibit, but worth seeing.
Ann, in my humble opinion, the Very Funny Blog Post You MIght Enjoy is neither particularly funny nor particularly enjoyable. I suggest its deletion, if it’s not too much trouble.
(On the other hand, if you deleted every comment here that one of your readers found unfunny and/or unenjoyable, the blog would probably be significantly shorter. Hmmm….)
Shorter, but not as interesting.
I think it is hilarious! Whoever left that blog post has a great sense of humor. It’s great that people voice their opinions and show what they love. It’s fascinating how sense of humors differ.. Keep on blogging!
I personally loved the post and just thought that it was amusing. I don’t think you should delete it first off it would be too much work and secondly it was great…it was just so ridiculous because no feels that way when they have your period.. thats why its funny to just laugh at that person! I thought it was great keep blogging! =]
I thought the writer had a rather quick wit. Just me but I found it amusing. Not over the top funny – just amusing. Why the big huff to delete it?
I agree with Alan, not particularly funny or amusing……. However there are SO many others that would merit that definition!
You’re all right, what was I thinking. It’s not offensive and everything doesn’t have to be funny to everyone.
I’m very swept up in these primates on the show LIFE right now on Discovery channel. Anybody watching?
Oh my—I feel such a chill in the air !! People suddenly making comments about past posts that they didn’t think were funny or amusing in their opinion; and with a real tone of unkindness. This has always been ( to me anyway) a place where everyone is free to express themselves. Not everyone else always agrees or enjoys everything that is said. But everyone has been accepted. I hope that doesn’t change.
Ann–I guess my concern is not the “letter” itself, but the fact that the sender didn’t give a name. No one here has ever hidden behind a nickname.
Barbara you’re right and I started it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was wrong to single it out and I don’t want people to feel judged or critiqued about what they post here. I did wonder if anyone felt it offensive and I don’t know why. One of the reasons I enjoy blogging so much is because this is such a great community and so supportive.
I’m too tired/inarticulate now, but in the morning I’ll post photos of Holly’s reunion with her littermates. Very, very cute.
Aislinn, thanks for the good wishes. Mary Lynn, sorry you are suffering and experiencing some bitterness. I am too, although if I really stop to consider my circumstances, I’m in a lot better place now than I was when I was working. I’m doing stuff I enjoy. I’m not dodging the slings and arrows of insufferable louts. My only problem is I’m not getting paid. Still, partly by design and partly by accident, I’m doing okay. Hope it turns out that way for you as well.
Loved your story about the woman in the supermarket. Connections like that are the stuff of real life. In the end nothing else matters except the ways we succeed or fail in relating to each other one-on-one in our daily circumstances. There is our meaning.
I’ve spent the week-end celebrating my wife’s birthday. Made her dinner tonight. It came out great–roast rack of lamb with mint pesto, potato and onion gratin, roasted asparagus with pine nuts and chives, chocolate mousse. I’m pretty proud of myself.
Ann, now there’s something we can all agree on! Even those of us who don’t have dogs or horses always love seeing what yours are up to. Time to ready the cute-meter for Holly’s latest appearance!
And to all, a good night.
Boy, this is a tough room! I thought it mildly amusing, until I got to the part about “Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong” – then I bust out laughing. You see, I still remember being on my period, and stopping at a stop sign. While a pedestrian was crossing in the cross walk in front of me, I had the urge to step on the gas, and run right over them. Scary — thank God I came to my senses.
So, I just got back from an afternoon with Tony Curtis and it was so wonderful. I laughed, I cried — he is such a great guy, and sure can spin a yarn. I’m sure I’ve posted a link to his wife Jill’s Horse Rescue before. So, I just went there and saw this cute new arrival to the ranch. I had to sponsor him, I just had to — you know how I love Buckskins!
http://shilohhorserescue.rescuegroups.org/animals/detail?AnimalID=2335669
I always say — even if I had money, I wouldn’t have any money — I’d spend some, and give the rest away.
Thanks for everyone’s well wishes, and putting up with my poor-mouthing. Tony Curtis seemed to put it all in perspective for me — if ever you get a chance to see him, by all means do so. He is turning 85 in June, and is sweeter, sharper, and funnier than ever.
He has an art show at the library, and with his wife Jill put together a great presentation with film clips, questions from the audience, and of course a signing that kept the staff there long after the library closed.
Tony uses a wheelchair (although he did get up to do a little dance around the table), and I heard him say to one of his fans who was also in a wheelchair “Wanna race?!”
Also, I just realized that I might be able to use a couple of Visa gift cards I have kicking around to help out Shiloh Horse Rescue and sponsor my new best friend, Banjo!
So anyways, I’ll be spending tonight watching “Paris When It Sizzles” on YouTube. William Holden once again plays a struggling screenwriter (as in “Sunset Boulevard”). Tony shows up around the 9 min mark in this segment.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mF6npJ0SI-Q&feature=related
So the Academy of Country Music Awards kick offs with what else? Rock ‘n Roll, of course. I’m related to the drummer of CCR, and still this offends me. Charlie Daniels is a nice touch, but still . . .
I will spare you all the fashion report. The “Country” stars are glammed up like Hollywood stars going to the Golden Globes (except of course Gretchen Wilson — it is her thing), and Nicole Kidman shows up in this –
http://justjared.buzznet.com/2010/04/18/nicole-kidman-acm-awards-with-keith-urban/
Reba as always is a great MC.
I agree that one of the reasons I love this blog is the uncensored comments (funny and not funny) from all the different and witty people who follow it. But when I saw the post from “Another funny blog post you may enjoy” I thought it was from you, Ann. So I followed the link and realized it was another blog. If the person would have just said “Hey I have a funny letter on my blog I want to share” and posted a name I’m sure everyone here would have welcomed it and not given it another thought. Just my 2 cents.
Mary Lynn, an afternoon with Tony Curtis? You lucky girl.
Toby Keith — “I’m Crying For Me” — great song. I think it is so true, that when people pass we cry not for them, but for ourselves. It is truly our loss, they are beyond pain.
Good job, Toby. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHZCAcSh7ls
Read some of the latest posts and felt compelled to chime in again. It’s always a joy to share films,books and poems really move us. Unfortunately what people love and what people makes them laugh is subjective.
Nobody delibrately tries to be unfunny so it doesn’t really
matter if we don’t like the post. They were just attempting to brighten our day so no real harm done. I keep a DVD of Suicide Kings and other favorites around in case I need a laugh. Sometimes that what’s needed to get me through a rough day. Trivia not from the commentary it says they only had Denis for a few days and he improvised his dialogue which is hysterical.
Special trivia note for you Mary Lynn … Tony Curtis’s first role was in the movie Criss Cross with Burt Lancaster and Yvonne DiCarlo (later to become Lilly Munster) He had only a bit extra part dancing in a bar for a few seconds uncredited. In those few seconds he was obviously a star and received so much fan mail the studio took note and his extra days were over. Of course later on Burt and Tony did movies together. My favorite Curtis movie is Some Like it Hot … really classic funny movie
So my point is all of us are talented at something and being funny is a rare and beautiful gift. Another rare gift is treating others with compassion so lets try to give each other the benefit of the doubt and be grateful to have such a wonderful blog to read. Who cares lets just agree to disagree sometimes. Sorry don’t mean to sound preachy.
Jonah meant to tell you keep smiling and its great you still have your sense of humor!
Best to All
Yes, yes Kathy — Tony showed the clip from Criss Cross, told the somewhat X-rated Yvonne DeCarlo story, and talked quite a bit about Burt.
Here is a link to some photos from today in my Facebook “Celebrity Skin” album. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=7498&id=100000690524133
A little Country music primer (for any neophytes), as I watch the ACMs — good country song — “The House That Built Me” written by Tom Douglas and Allen Shamblin (this harkens back to the Christopher Walken article about going back to check out the house you grew up in.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hA2NJKJBgow&feature=related
Miranda should go easy on the introduction and just sing the song, but she recorded it so I guess she can jabber on a little.
So, this is not a “bad” Country song — but it isn’t great (though it will appeal to a lot of people and probably earn a good chunk of change) either. Every Country songwriter worth their salt has written something similar — I call it the “cradle to the grave” song. This particular piece picks up a little after the cradle, but the message is the same.
I guess the point that I’m trying to make is that the best Country songs don’t reach too far — they stick with territory that is completely plausible, relatable, and limited in time and space.
So, let’s review — a daytrip to your old homestead (with details about handprints in cement) — GOOD — a couple of generations of musings about passing through and immortality — not so much.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LraOiHUltak
This is the song that should of won “Song” and “Single of the Year” — but, of course it didn’t. This song gets my Mary Lynn prestigious “Songs I Wish I Wrote” award.
“God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy” . . . oh, and yes, you can go to “Find a Grave” and leave beer and cigarettes on people’s virtual graves. Awesome.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKpQRjj_WbU
Oh, and I’m not Jewish, or Muslim, or Buddhist — ummm, maybe Agnostic leaning toward Atheist — but I really wonder — what do y’all think when “artists” accept an award and the first person they thank is Jesus Christ?
I mean really, is that necessary?? Or smart??? Do you really want to alienate two thirds of the world?
A silent prayer back in the hotel room would suffice . . . I’m certain your Lord would understand and appreciate the gesture.
Hello Everyone! LOVE the MP photo so much. The poem is really thought-provoking. I thought it was a conversation between a husband and wife, but I guess that’s just what I brought to it.
Had a wonderful weekend enjoying the spring weather. Also harvested 18 pounds of delicious honey from our 2 hives. The bees did a splendid job.
ML, I loved your encounter with Renee. Tonight I watched the film The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. Amazing.
Count me in as a Chris Walken fan. The Sicilian scene from True Romance between Chris and Dennis Hopper is classic. I usually abhor violent films but I love that one.
I’ve not yet seen Suicide Kings.
Here’s a poem for the pocket of horse lovers:
The Young Girl Dreams of Escape
Lyn Lifshin
of a wild mane her
own hair tangles
with, her thighs
opening for the
horse’s warmth.
She will elope
when the rest of
the house is sleeping,
carrots and apples
for her love.
Jane,
Excellent, I’m blushing. . . as I have a new love named “Banjo” and I am hoarding carrots and apples so that I may run my fingers through his thick, tousled locks –
http://shilohhorserescue.rescuegroups.org/animals/detail?AnimalID=2335669
He is very friendly. . . and thankfully, gelded. Gross, I know — I shouldn’t have gone there.
Ann – I’m a little late in posting but I have been watching “Life” also. Amazing footage – I was fascinating with the octupus who lays eggs and dies,the hippos and komodo dragons. Its just breathtaking. I flip around when it gets too buggy.
Suicide Kings – GREAT FLICK!!!!
oops fascinated.