Still Standing...
The following poem, "Streetcar" is one I posted before I accidentally erased my blog a number of months ago. I am posting it again because in the interim, and after my recent post on alcoholism, I have been able to understand it in ways that I did not when I wrote it. I think it also ties into the discussion with fellow bloggers that took place a while back regarding memory, journals and their significance. At that time I think my thoughts indicated that I felt less significance with looking back on things while the majority seemed to acknowledge a larger importance on it. I believe I emphasized the need for me to look forward and not put so much significance on the past. I was hopeful that my post on alcoholism would shed some light on my position as I tried further to express how alcoholism recovery helped shape that belief as the dialogue continued.
Upon further reflection, and rereading "Streetcar" I thought I would share it with you again. As my life moves forward in the areas of creativity I am constantly surprised at the revelations regarding the coexistence between art and life. In the case of �Streetcar,� which reflects an experience that took place in Chicago on February, 12th, 1951, Abraham Lincoln's birthday, it seems appropriate to my thoughts because of the distance between the time of the experience, when I wrote it (2004) and today.
I have no illusions as to whether I understand it better today then at any other period in time. I think what really interests me in presenting this is that not too long ago I argued with great conviction that art and life are two separate experiences. That I might be contradicting myself here is why I need to revisit my thoughts. Hopefully, it can add something relevant to our discussions on art and life. Especially, in the context of life in the present.
Streetcar
A current of lines with wheels honed
A city�s gondola on cobblestone
A melody sung in the wake of rain
A song in motion with no refrain
A rider in step with the hum of rhyme
An exit in space to the fate of time
A view of the heavens from underfoot
A blackened carriage was undertook
A lapse in memory as to speed
A crawl to safety was in need
A dampness cold he did behold
A wonder that he could grow old
A sense of wetness he will carry;
A symbol of fortune's corollary
Aware that water had a role
As baptism did upon his soul.
Upon further reflection, and rereading "Streetcar" I thought I would share it with you again. As my life moves forward in the areas of creativity I am constantly surprised at the revelations regarding the coexistence between art and life. In the case of �Streetcar,� which reflects an experience that took place in Chicago on February, 12th, 1951, Abraham Lincoln's birthday, it seems appropriate to my thoughts because of the distance between the time of the experience, when I wrote it (2004) and today.
I have no illusions as to whether I understand it better today then at any other period in time. I think what really interests me in presenting this is that not too long ago I argued with great conviction that art and life are two separate experiences. That I might be contradicting myself here is why I need to revisit my thoughts. Hopefully, it can add something relevant to our discussions on art and life. Especially, in the context of life in the present.
Streetcar
A current of lines with wheels honed
A city�s gondola on cobblestone
A melody sung in the wake of rain
A song in motion with no refrain
A rider in step with the hum of rhyme
An exit in space to the fate of time
A view of the heavens from underfoot
A blackened carriage was undertook
A lapse in memory as to speed
A crawl to safety was in need
A dampness cold he did behold
A wonder that he could grow old
A sense of wetness he will carry;
A symbol of fortune's corollary
Aware that water had a role
As baptism did upon his soul.
posted by Lhombre at 10:15 AM
1 Comments:
I find I often must wait a very long time to fully understand what I have written. I almost never post anything less than 4-5 weeks old with fewer than say, 50 readings. Best is when I don't look at it for a few days or a week. When the sometimes stormy waves of creation give way to the gentle swells of reflection, then I think the deeper meanings can float up to the surface for closer inspection.
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