(happy poppies on the way to the library)
Lyrics from the song which I performed last week will suffice for Poetry Friday as it's beyond too hot to think/create. I'm still not sure that I like the meaning of this poem when I analyze it with any depth. The music was swoopy and emotional--perhaps some poems are meant to only be lyrics and not read separately.
In the quiet misty morning
when the moon has gone to bed,
when the sparrows stop their singing
and the sky is clear and red,
when the summer's ceased its gleaming
when the corn is past its prime,
when adventure's lost its meaning,
I'll be homeward bound in time.
Bind me not to the pasture;
chain me not to the plow,
set me free to find my calling
and I'll return to you somehow.
If you find it's me you're missing,
if you're hoping I'll return,
to your thoughts I'll soon be list'ning,
in the road I'll stop and turn
Then the wind will set me racing
as my journey nears its end,
and the path I'll soon be retracing
when I'm homeward bound again.
by Marta Keen
I still find I like neither the lyrics nor the music for that song -- far too emo for me, and weird for a church service -- but mainly because I hate the idea of someone listn'ning for my thoughts as the cue for them to return. Could they be any more passive-aggressive? If you want to come back, then COME BACK.
ReplyDelete:Sigh:
I learned a word from a medieval novel - "Come, now, be not spleeny!" I think I am very spleeny today.
I'm still stuck on the speaker's thoughts that they're going to dash about and have adventures and FUN and then whenever they're jolly ready, they'll commmmmme home. So sure the waiter is still there, still waiting. Bah.
ReplyDeleteI know I'm very spleeny today--it was in the high 90s yesterday and promises to be at least that today.