Don't Let Bob Dylan Break Your Heart

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

Don't let the past tear you apart.

Our lives are framed,

Not made, by art.

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

It's not stepping stones alone

That call to you,

All the dead you've left

Still follow you.

Your stone was rolling from the start,

In changing times we play our part,

And all that come

Must soon depart.

Don't let Bob Dylan break your heart.

In posting this fresh-written poem I'd like to state that it is in no way a criticism of or a comment upon Bob Dylan himself. Its' inspiration was instead the impulse to melancholy nostalgia brought on by the hearing of emblematic songs of the "old days", AKA the Golden Age. And no one wrote more emblematic songs then than Bob Dylan! Some of you out there might quibble and bring up Lennon & McCartney, but this is my blog and that's my view. That's what the comment button below is for. How about it, what songs set off your nostalgia circuits, and how do you feel about that?

Muse

There is coffee in the morning,

And six pills that are all mine,

And a paper full of sorrow,

Without sense and without rhyme.

But I toss away my troubles,

And forget the world unkind,

When I hear her sweetly singing,

With my ordinary mind.

Ugly Dog

My best friend is an ugly dog.

He's been at my side night and day.

You'd have to agree, he's nothing to look at.

He chews my shoes and pees on my rug,

He keeps me up howling all night long.

I awoke this morning to find him gone,

My shoes intact and carpet unsoiled.

Can anyone help me find him?

He's an ugly dog, but he's all I've got!

Body/Mind

Body Mind/ Body Mind,

Home of all ills,

Doctors and dentists,

Potions and drills.

Body Mind/ Body Mind,

On couch and with pills,

A fence in a meadow,

One patient, two bills.

Beachcombing

Sifting, I, on seashore strand,

Solitary, seeking bliss.

Infinity in a grain of sand

Seeking eye and finding This.

A Pick Up from Cold Mountain

For a mud ball dropped in water

big plans make no sense

for a fragile dreamlike body

a hundred years are rare

unable to ponder deeply

and claiming they're immortal

people steal a ton of gold

then leave it all behind

I have featured the poems of Tang dynasty hermit Han Shan (Cold Mountain) several times on this blog, chosen from the translations of Burton Watson. This morning I was reading Red Pine's excellent collection, "The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain" and was struck by the timeless views of Han Shan's able sidekick, Shih-te (Pick Up). Red Pine's book includes 49 Shih-te verses along with over 300 attributed to Han Shan. Bonus! In print from Copper Canyon Press, this collection is a must have item for lovers of the "brush and ink" crowd.

Although I have used a traditional portrait of Shih-te with broom in hand, perhaps I should have illustrated this verse with a picture of ol' Kenny Boy, merely one of the vast crowd of potential poster-boys for the above verse. But then, why honor fools even with scorn?

Never Mind the Beard

Intimate?

Yes, I'd say so.

But sometimes it can be

So very hard to see,

I wish that old barbarian

Would trim his eyebrows!