Poem of the day

Here's one:

The ripe grassheads bend in the the starlight
in the soft wind, beneath them the darkness
of the grass, fathomless, the long blades
rising out of the well of time.
Cars travel the valley roads below me, their lights
finding the dark, and racing on.
Above their roar is a silence I have suddenly heard,
and felt the country turn under the stars toward dawn.
I am wholly willing to be here
between the bright silent thousands of stars
and the life of the grass pouring out of the ground.
The hill has grown to me like a foot.
Until I lift the earth I cannot move.

Wendell Berry - On a Hill Late at Night

thanks for starting this.
...one more by WB.


Sowing the seed,
my hand is one with the earth.

Wanting the seed to grow,
my mind is one with the light.

Hoeing the crop,
my hands are one with the rain.

Having cared for the plants,
my mind is one with the air.

Hungry and trusting,
my mind is one with the earth.

Eating the fruit,
my body is one with the earth.

Wendell Berry

Three of my favorite poets are Mick Jagger, Bob Seeger and Bruce Springsteen. Here is something from each of them

Mick Jagger - Time Waits For No One
Yes, star crossed in pleasure the stream flows on by
Yes, as we're sated in leisure, we watch it fly
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
Time can tear down a building or destroy a woman's face
Hours are like diamonds, don't let them waste
Time waits for no one, no favours has he
Time waits for no one, and he won't wait for me
Men, they build towers to their passing yes, to their fame everlasting
Here he comes chopping and reaping, hear him laugh at their cheating
And time waits for no man, and it won't wait for me
Yes, time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
Drink in your summer, gather your corn
The dreams of the night time will vanish by dawn
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
No no no, not for me...


Bob Seeger - Main Street
I remember standing on the corner at midnight
Trying to get my courage up
There was this long lovely dancer in a little club downtown
I loved to watch her do her stuff
Through the long lonely nights she filled my sleep
Her body softly swaying to that smoky beat
Down on mainstreet
In the pool halls, the hustlers and the losers
I used to watch 'em through the glass
Well I'd stand outside at closing time
Just to watch her walk on past
Unlike all the other ladies, she looked so young and sweet
As she made her way alone down that empty street
Down on mainstreet

And sometimes even now, when I'm feeling lonely and beat
I drift back in time and I find my feet
Down on mainstreet
Down on mainstreet


Bruce Springsteen- The River
I come from down in the valley where mister when you're young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
Wed ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green

Wed go down to the river
And into the river wed dive
Oh down to the river wed ride

Then I got mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteen birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle
No flowers no wedding dress
That night we went down to the river
And into the river wed dive
On down to the river we did ride

I got a job working construction for the johnstown company
But lately there aint been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I don't remember, mary acts like she don't care
But I remember us riding in my brothers car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I'd lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse that sends me
Down to the river though I know the river is dry
Down to the river, my baby and i
Oh down to the river we ride

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever" Mahatma Gandhi

Even a blind hog finds acorns sometimes

Austin Max wrote:Even a blind hog finds acorns sometimes

I've heard this one used when a guy who has no game at all manages to get a date.

Three more by Mick, Bob and Bruce

Indian Girl - Mick Jagger --- For victims of the war in Nicaragua
Little Indian girl, where is your mama?
Little Indian girl, where is your papa?
He's fighting in the war in the streets of Masaya
All the children were dead, except for the girl who said
"Please Mister Gringo, please find my father"
Lesson number one that you learn while you're young
Life just goes on and on getting harder and harder
Little Indian girl, from Nueva Granada
Little Indian girl, from Nueva Granada
Yes, I saw them today. It's a sight I would say
They're shooting down planes with their M-16 and with laughter

Ma says there's no food, there's nothing left in the larder
Last piece of meat was eaten by the soldiers that raped her
All the children were dead, except for the girl who said
"Please Mister Gringo, please find my father"
Lesson number one that you learn while you're young
Life just goes on and on getting harder and harder
Life just goes on and on getting harder and harder
Little Indian girl, from Nueva Granada
Yes, I saw them today. It's a sight I would say
They're shooting down planes with their M-16 and with laughter

[spoken]
Mr. Gringo, my father he ain't no Che Guevara
And he's fighting the war on the streets of Masaya
Little Indian girl where is your father?
Little Indian girl where is your momma?
They're fighting for Mr. Castro in the streets of Angola

Bob Seeger - In Your Time --- For his son
In your time
The innocence will fall away
In your time
The mission bells will toll
All along
The corridors and river beds
There'll be sign
In your time

Towering waves
Will crash across your southern capes
Massive storms
Will reach your eastern shores
Fields of green
Will tumble through your summer days
By design
In your time

Feel the wind
And set yourself the bolder course
Keep your heart
As open as a shrine
You'll sail the perfect line

And after all
The dead ends and the lessons learned
After all
The stars have turned to stone
There'll be peace
Across the great unbroken void
All benign
In your time
You'll be fine
In your time

Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway american dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin out over the line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
Its a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while were young
`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run

Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims
And strap your hands across my engines
Together we could break this trap
Well run till we drop, baby well never go back
Will you walk with me out on the wire
`cause baby Im just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta find out how it feels
I want to know if love is wild, girl I want to know if love is real

Beyond the palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I wanna die with you wendy on the streets tonight
In an everlasting kiss

The highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive
Everybodys out on the run tonight but there's no place left to hide
Together wendy well live with the sadness
Ill love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when were gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go and well walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run

Another by Mick Jagger that I heard on the radio this week. This one is 45 years old.
No Expectations ---
Take me to the station
And put me on a train
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again

Once I was a rich man and
Now I am so poor
But never in my sweet short life
Have I felt like this before

You heart is like a diamond
You throw your pearls at swine
And as I watch you leaving me
You pack my peace of mind

Our love was like the water
That splashes on a stone
Our love is like our music
Its here, and then its gone

So take me to the airport
And put me on a plane
I got no expectations
To pass through here again

Gil Scott-Heron....

MONEY TIME

Supposedly, time is money:
money will buy you time
assuming you have money

to spend, as well as time
to wait while your money
grows. However, time

spent waiting can be like money
misspent---it's often time
wasted, even if money

is made, a kind of time
not worth spending, so money
isn't necessarily time.

Maybe time is money
if you make with your time
something else that makes money,

though most of the time
it's not your money
you've made with your time.

And money isn't even money,
necessarily, in a time
like this, when money

loses value and time
is misspent losing money.
And time isn't even time,

necessarily, if it's lost money
on which you're wasting time,
nor is money really money

if it's wasted on wasted time.
Still, sometimes, time is money,
but only if you have money and time.

Craig Morgan Teicher

Three different views of New York City , all released in 77 and 78

I was surprized to find that Billy Joel's tune came out first
New York State of Mind ...
Some folks like to get away
Take a holiday from the neighbourhood
Hop a flight to Miami Beach
Or to Hollywood
But I'm taking a Greyhound
On the Hudson River Line
I'm in a New York state of mind

I've seen all the movie stars
In their fancy cars and their limousines
Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens
But I know what I'm needing
And I don't want to waste more time
I'm in a New York state of mind

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times, The Daily News

It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide
Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons
I've left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times, The Daily News

It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide
Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons
I've left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

I'm just taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line
'Cause I'm in a New York state of mind

Shattered- Rolling Stones 1978...written in a NY taxi
Shattered, shattered
Love and hope and sex and dreams
Are still surviving on the street
Look at me, Im in tatters!
Im a shattered
Shattered

Friends are so alarming
My lovers never charming
Lifes just a cocktail party on the street
Big apple
People dressed in plastic bags
Directing traffic
Some kind of fashion
Shattered

Laughter, joy, and loneliness and sex and sex and sex and sex
Look at me, Im in tatters
Im a shattered
Shattered

All this chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter bout
Shmatta, shmatta, shmatta -- I can't give it away on 7th avenue
This towns been wearing tatters (shattered, shattered)
Work and work for love and sex
Aint you hungry for success, success, success, success
Does it matter? (shattered) does it matter?
Im shattered.
Shattered

Ahhh, look at me, Im a shattered
Im a shattered
Look at me- Im a shattered, yeah

Pride and joy and greed and sex
That's what makes our town the best
Pride and joy and dirty dreams and still surviving on the street
And look at me, Im in tatters, yeah
Ive been battered, what does it matter
Does it matter, uh-huh
Does it matter, uh-huh, Im a shattered

Don't you know the crime rate is going up, up, up, up, up
To live in this town you must be tough, tough, tough, tough, tough!
You got rats on the west side
Bed bugs uptown
What a mess this towns in tatters Ive been shattered
My brains been battered, splattered all over manhattan

Uh-huh, this towns full of money grabbers
Go ahead, bite the big apple, don't mind the maggots, huh
Shadoobie, my brains been battered
My friends they come around they
Flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter
Pile it up, pile it high on the platter


Sinatra sang , NewYork,NewYork in 1978 written by Fred Ebb, John Kander
Start spreading the news
I am leaving today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

These vagabond shoes
They are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I want to wake up in that city
That doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap

My little town blues
They are melting away
I gonna make a brand new start of it
In old New York

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you
New York, New York

New York, New York
I want to wake up in that city
That never sleeps
And find I'm king of the hill
Top of the list
Head of the heap
King of the hill

These are little town blues
They have all melted away
I am about to make a brand new start of it
Right there in old New York

And you bet [Incomprehensible] baby
If I can make it there
You know, I'm gonna make it just about anywhere
Come on, come through
New York, New York, New York

"Separating art from craft elevates money and status over life, beauty, and function."

Kiko Denzer

John Trudell - See The Woman

I was reading "Stalking the Wild Asparagus" by Euell Gibbons. In it he quotes a poem by Robert Frost called Blueberries

"Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live
just taking what Nature is willing to give
Not forcing her hand with a harrow and plow"

Blueberries by Robert Frost

You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!
And all ripe together, not some of them green
And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!"
"I don't know what part of the pasture you mean."
"You know where they cut off the woods--let me see--
It was two years ago--or no!--can it be
No longer than that?--and the following fall
The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall."
"Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow.
That's always the way with the blueberries, though:
There may not have been the ghost of a sign
Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine,
But get the pine out of the way, you may burn
The pasture all over until not a fern
Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick,
And presto, they're up all around you as thick
And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick."
"It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit.
I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot.
And after all really they're ebony skinned:
The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind,
A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand,
And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned."
"Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think?"
"He may and not care and so leave the chewink
To gather them for him--you know what he is.
He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his
An excuse for keeping us other folk out."
"I wonder you didn't see Loren about."
"The best of it was that I did. Do you know,
I was just getting through what the field had to show
And over the wall and into the road,
When who should come by, with a democrat-load
Of all the young chattering Lorens alive,
But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive."
"He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown?"
"He just kept nodding his head up and down.
You know how politely he always goes by.
But he thought a big thought--I could tell by his eye--
Which being expressed, might be this in effect:
'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect,
To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'"
"He's a thriftier person than some I could name."
"He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need,
With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed?
He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say,
Like birds. They store a great many away.
They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat
They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet."
"Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live,
Just taking what Nature is willing to give,
Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow."
"I wish you had seen his perpetual bow--
And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned,
And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned."
"I wish I knew half what the flock of them know
Of where all the berries and other things grow,
Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top
Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop.
I met them one day and each had a flower
Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower;
Some strange kind--they told me it hadn't a name."
"I've told you how once not long after we came,
I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth
By going to him of all people on earth
To ask if he knew any fruit to be had
For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad
To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad.
There had been some berries--but those were all gone.
He didn't say where they had been. He went on:
'I'm sure--I'm sure'--as polite as could be.
He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see,
Mame, we don't know any good berrying place?'
It was all he could do to keep a straight face.
"If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him,
He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim,
We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year.
We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear,
And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet.
It's so long since I picked I almost forget
How we used to pick berries: we took one look round,
Then sank out of sight like trolls underground,
And saw nothing more of each other, or heard,
Unless when you said I was keeping a bird
Away from its nest, and I said it was you.
'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew
Around and around us. And then for a while
We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile,
And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout
Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out,
For when you made answer, your voice was as low
As talking--you stood up beside me, you know."
"We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoy--
Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy.
They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night.
They won't be too friendly--they may be polite--
To people they look on as having no right
To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain.
You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain,
The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves,
Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves."

Shit fire, save matches.

"Coaxing food from land is a timeless activity. To tend a patch of land, putting hands in soil, planting, harvesting food and flowers, is to join an enduring human tradition and to carry forward common skills about how to live on Earth that precedes everything we label 'the economy'.

On hands and knees, digging in the dirt, a gardener leaves the frenzied pace of modern life behind. A different rhythm of sun, soil, water, and growth asserts itself, a seasonal pace indifferent to the frantic demands of the clock. Our society is gripped by an obsessive awareness of 'now' that reinforces a stunning amnesia for what happened last week, last year, or in the previous periods of history (let alone in other parts of the world). Gardening changes that relationship to time by slowing down the gardener, making her pay attention to natural cycles that only make sense in the full unfolding of seasons and years."

Chris Carlson

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” - E.B. White

"You are a treasure for the poor to find."

Besides "the Wizard of Oz" and Huckleberry Finn, my early influences.....

"If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite." William Blake

"...but the man who comes back through the Door in the wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less cocksure, happier but less self satisified, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable Mystery which it tries, forever vainly to comprehend."
from "Doors of Perception" by Aldous Huxley

"Never imagine yourself not to be
otherwise than what it might appear to others
that what you were or might have been was
not otherwise than what you had been would
have appeared to them to be otherwise."
...the Duchess in "Alice in Wonderland"

I like this quote because it applies to marketing craft as well as food.

.....it's a mistake to "try to sell a connected, holistic, ensouled product through a Western, reductionist, WallStreet sales scheme".
(Joel Salatin "No Bar Code" MotherJones article)

Lemon Andersen performs poetry by Reg E Gaines

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WT7VMrxTPPA&feature=em-uploademail

"No man raised his voice against the waste, only his nose against the smell."


Aldo Leopold - "A Sand County Almanac" - one that everyone should read.

"Farming is easy, if a pencil is your plow, and your desk is 1,000 miles from the corn field."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - Mark Twain

Welcome 2013.

I'm not normally a flag waving Canadian, but we've produced a few notable folk singers.

Joni Mitchell did this one in 1970
Woodstock ---I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, "Where are you going?"
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's Farm,
I'm gonna join in a rock and roll band.
I'm gonna camp out on the land.
I'm gonna get my soul free.

We are stardust.
We are golden.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

Then can I walk beside you?
I have come here to lose the smog,
And I feel to be a cog in something turning.

Well maybe it is just the time of year,
Or maybe it's the time of man.
I don't know who I am,
But you know life is for learning.

We are stardust.
We are golden.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

By the time we got to Woodstock,
We were half a million strong
And Everywhere there was song and celebration.

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky,
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation.

We are stardust.
Billion year old carbon.
We are golden..
Caught in the devil's bargain
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

-----------------------------------------------------------
Gordon lightfoot did this one in 1970
If you could read my mind

If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
'Bout a ghost from a wishin' well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take

I'd walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two
A movie queen to play the scene
Of bringing all the good things out in me
But for now love, let's be real
* I never thought I could ACT this way *
And I've got to say that I just don't get it
I don't know where we went wrong
But the feelin's gone
And I just can't get it back

If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
'Bout a ghost from a wishin' well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
But stories always end
And if you read between the lines
You'll know that I'm just tryin' to understand
The feelin's that you lack
I never thought I could feel this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it
I don't know where we went wrong
But the feelin's gone
And I just can't get it back
-------------------------------------------------
Neil Young did After the Gold Rush in 1970

Well, I dreamed I saw the knights
In armor coming,
Saying something about a queen.
There were peasants singing and
Drummers drumming
And the archer split the tree.
There was a fanfare blowing
To the sun
That was floating on the breeze.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.

I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes.
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst thru the sky.
There was a band playing in my head
And I felt like getting high.
I was thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.
Thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.

Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Space ships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun,
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones.
All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun.
They were flying Mother Nature's
Silver seed to a new home in the sun.
Flying Mother Nature's
Silver seed to a new home.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pete Seeger sang Little Boxes in 1963 --- This one was written by American song writer Malvina Reynolds. She was born in 1900 and I believe that makes her officially the world's oldest flower child.

Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes
Little boxes
Little boxes all the same
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

And the people in the houses all go to the university
And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same
And they all play on the golf course and drink their martini dry
And they all have pretty children and the children go to school
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university
And they all get put in boxes, and they all come out the same
And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family
And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same

There's a green one, and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same
----------------------------------------------------------
Leonard Cohen did In MY Secret Life

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.
-----------------------------------------------
In Flanders Fields is a war poem written during the First World War by Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae. Shortly after it's publication, the poppy became a popular symbol of rememberance of war dead. It was written in 1915. McCrae was a field doctor who worked to exhaustion and died in 1918 of pnemonia never returning home.
My grandmother lost her three brothers on the first day of the Battle of the Somme when over 90% of the Newfoundland regiment were killed within 45 minutes. She liked the poem.
They recite this poem on Rememberence Day, November 11 at 11 am. It is printed on Canadian $10 bills.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields

-------------------------------------------------------
The Cremation Of Sam McGee The Klondike gold rush saw about 100,000 men, mostly from the U.S. venture into the remote wilds of the Youkon where temperatures of -50 F killed many. The number will never be known, but thousands never made it back. I believe it to be North America's worst case of death by misadventure.

Robert Service made light of it in this popular poem.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell".

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows -- O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared -- such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.


Robert William Service
--------------------------------------------------- Robert Service used to live in Victoria. His desk was a prize from a demolition of the bank where he worked. I've called a couple museums with his name on them, trying to find a home for the desk which resides in my brother's garage. No one has returned my calls.

Dale, there is an album I like called "War, War, War" all Robert Service poems set to music by Country Joe Mc Donald (without the Fish) Good anti war record. I like your music choices. Haven't heard "Little Boxes" in years.

Hey Dale,

You're forgetting a great Canadian in your listing: Hank Snow

(While he was born in Brooklyn, it was Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, not NY)

John Polk wrote:Hey Dale,

You're forgetting a great Canadian in your listing: Hank Snow

(While he was born in Brooklyn, it was Brooklyn, Nova Scotia, not NY)

Not quite my style but he had some notable work. I've Been Everywhere Man is a real tounge twister test of endurance. I assume that he could slip in the name of whatever town he played. Jonny Cash and the Stones covered Hank Snow songs. Not only was he involved in this sort of vocal gymnastics, he also yodelled. Thankfully, that's been out of style for about 60 years.

I was totin' my pack
Along the dusty Winnemucca road
When along came a semi
With a high and canvas covered load
"If you're going to Winnemucca, Mack
With me you can ride."
So I climbed into the cab
And then I settled down inside
He asked me if I'd seen a road
With so much dust and sand
And I said,
"Listen, Bud I've traveled
Every road in this here land."

[Chorus]
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
'Cross the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel, I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere.

Been to Reno, Chicago, Fargo, Minnesota,
Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota,
Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma,
Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma,
Bangor, Baltimore, Salvador, Amarillo,
Tocopilla, Barranquilla, and Padilla, I'm a killer.
I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
'Cross the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel, I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere.

Boston, Charleston, Dayton, Louisiana,
Washington, Houston, Kingston, Texarkana,
Monterey, Ferriday, Santa Fe, Tallapoosa
Glen Rock, Black Rock, Little Rock, Oskaloosa,
Tennessee, Hennessey, Chicopee, Spirit Lake,
Grand Lake, Devil's Lake, Crater Lake, for Pete's sake;

I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
'Cross the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel, I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere.

Louisville, Nashville, Knoxville, Ombabika,
Shefferville, Jacksonville, Waterville, Costa Rica,
Pittsfield, Springfield, Bakersfield, Shreveport,
Hackensack, Cadillac, Fond do Lac, Davenport,
Idaho, Jellicoe, Argentina, Diamontina,
Pasadena, Catalina, see what I mean, sir;

I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
'Cross the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel, I've had my share, man
I've been everywhere.

Pittsburgh, Parkersburg, Gravellburg, Colorado,
Ellensburg, Rexburg, Vicksburg, Eldorado,
Larrimore, Atmore, Haverstraw, Chattanika,
Chaska, Nebraska, Alaska, Opelika,
Baraboo, Waterloo, Kalamazoo, Kansas City,
Sioux City, Cedar City, Dodge City, what a pity;

I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
'Cross the deserts bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel, I've had my share, man
"I know some place you haven't been."
I've been everywhere.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think Alanis Morissette was the best of her generation. Jagged Little Pill had no filler songs.

How about Tommy Chong (of Cheech & Chong fame).
From Edmonton, Alberta. (NOT "East L.A.")

Certainly had some quotable quotes.

John Polk wrote:How about Tommy Chong (of Cheech & Chong fame).
From Edmonton, Alberta. (NOT "East L.A.")

Certainly had some quotable quotes.

Before Mr. Chong joined Cheech( Cheech is the most amazing celebrity Jepordy player ever) he was in a band. He convinced his band mates that they could gain greater notoriety by billing themselves as "Four Niggers and a Chink". Objections from venues who refused to post the name caused them to choose something more tame.

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
BY JAMES WRIGHT

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.

"Music should strike fire from the heart of man, and bring tears from the eyes of woman.” - Beethoven

***
A man who doesn't read the newspaper is uninformed.
A man who does read the newspaper in misinformed.

Mark Twain

***
If dogs don't go to heaven, when I die, I want to go where all of the dogs went.

Will Rogers

***
If you want a friend in Washington [DC], get a dog.

President Harry S. Truman

"Language is a virus from outer space" -- William S. Burroughs

"Our intention is to affirm this life, not to bring order out of chaos or to suggest improvements in creation, but simply to wake up to the very life we're living, which is so excellent once one gets one's mind and one's desires out of its way and lets it act of its own accord."

John Cage, "Silence" (1961)

“Patience – A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue.”

Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

"Don't put a 5 dollar plant in a 5 cent hole" - The late, great Master Gardener Ralph Snodsmith of the 3 decade long running AM radio call-in show The Garden Hotline.

on my husband's t-shirt..."Outside of a dog a book is man's best friend...inside of a dog it's too dark to read." Groucho Marx

"Too often those who are quickest to assert their identity or loudest in proclaiming it have fastened on a single, supposedly fixed aspect of their nature or background to the detriment of the rest"

Robert Storr



Here's where I got this - http://www.art21.org/videos/episode-identity

Austin Max wrote:"Too often those who are quickest to assert their identity or loudest in proclaiming it have fastened on a single, supposedly fixed aspect of their nature or background to the detriment of the rest"

Robert Storr



Here's where I got this - http://www.art21.org/videos/episode-identity

>This is certainly true in politics where ethnicity or polarized opinion on one subject can close minds. >------------------------ There are a few examples though where there is nothing sinister about a loud group proclaiming their origins. You can go to a public gathering anywhere in the world and the Irish diaspora will proclaim their heritage loudly if the MC yells, "are there any Irish in the crowd tonight." They cheer for their team but it's not about exclusion. The "one drop rule" seems to work in reverse. If you can identify one Irish ancestor or a fondness for anything Irish, you're included. In Canada, Newfoundlanders have moved all over the country but still hold tight to their roots. Friends and acquaintances are invariably invited to visit the rock. Toronto host an annual Caribbean festival where revellers may be heard loudly celebrating the cultures of their home islands. Put on a Bob Marley shirt and you're Jamaican for a day.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”
― Mary Oliver

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean, if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty. - Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi