When I'm 64

Guest poets again today!

When I'm Sixty Four

by J. Lennon, P. McCartney

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
Birthday greeting, bottle of wine.
If I'd been out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

You'll be older too,
Ah, and if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fire side,
Sunday mornings, go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

Ev'ry summer we can rent a cottage on the Isle of Wight
If it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save.
Ah, grandchildren on your knee,
Vera, Chuck and Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
You're sincerely wasting away.
Give me your answer, fill in a form,
Mine forever more,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty four?

***

I sang this to Matt (and a bunch of other people!) in the kareoke room at our senior party, held in the Elks Lodge and put on by seniors' parents. I think it was casino-themed. After a false start and a bit of a shaking voice, I did fairly well, I think. It's been one of "our songs" since then.

<3



From left to right, it's bass, "guitar" (which seems to be playing the clarinet, or whatever that wind instrument is), and drums, with the words for the singer going across the top. We're.... not quite that good at our Beatles Rock Band yet, but it's still fun!

Jan 24

Guest poet again!

***

Extraordinary Machine

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes
And
I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot, it's a slow climb,
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't stop changing all the time

I notice that my opponent is always on the go
And
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he came
But he's no good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't stop staying exactly the same

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play

I am the baby of the family, it happens, so
Everybody cares and wears the sheeps' clothes
While they chaperone
Curious, you looking down your nose at me, while you appease
Courteous, to try and help - but let me set your mind at ease

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

Do I so worry you, you need to hurry to my side?
It's very kind
But it's to no avail; I don't want the bail
I promise you, everything will be just fine

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

-Fiona Apple

***

This is actually a song (and a really great one), but is also poetry, I think.



Hope you enjoyed.

Jan. 15 Late

by e. e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

***

I made a Wordle out of this a while back. I love how this poem sounds. If you didn't read it out loud just now, go back and do it.

Today's poem coming later tonight.

Jan. 11 Late Poem plus The Dark Side

I forgot to write a poem yesterday until I was lying in bed at about 11:00, so instead, here is one of my favorites:

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Maybe I'll do this once a week or so, post a famous poem instead of writing one. It'd give me a little break, expand the literary horizons of my readership, and hopefully prove as some inspiration.

---------------------

In other news, I have gone to The Dark Side. Yes, it's true, alas. I feel like such a traitor.

I have learned....

to crochet.

Da-da-da-dada-DUM-dada-DUM.

Maybe it's not that drastic, but I've been a knitter for almost six years. I never really liked things made from crochet--just didn't like the texture of crocheted fabric. It looked like the 60's, and nasty acrylic yarn, and just tacky. Honestly, I was a little snobby about it, thinking knitting was much superior, and that crocheters were taking the easy way out (for lesser results, at that). But if the book I bought is any indication, I am now a Happy Hooker.

I've made 7 granny squares already (not counting the two practice ones) that I'm going to crochet together into something cool. You'll just have to wait for pictures. There are also several projects in the above book that I'd like to make. That purple skirt, and the pink shawl, and maybe one of the shrugs.

Oy, I'd better get to school. Look for another poem later today (unless I forget again!)