Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
Among the many problems which beset the novelist, not the least weighty is the choice of the moment at which to begin his novel.
~Vita Sackville-West

Sit down to write what you have thought, and not to think about what you shall write.
~William Cobbet

There are no signposts in the sea.
~Vita Sackville-West

~~

Posted from the Grove:

Requests from the Platform:
Three that run the gamut this week: from freaky Alice Cooper, to the tender melancholy of Sara Bareilles and the scrumptious harmonies of Dion and The Belmonts.

~Alice Cooper: I Love the Dead
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9v3VZ-kQn4s

~Sara Bareilles: Gravity
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEXhAMtbaec

~Dion and The Belmonts: Where or When
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2YI4lEK_wo

~

 

~~

Prewritten for Thurs (03.216) @6pm PT/9 ET is: pyramid, jinx

@Writers Platform

Prewritten: tithe, train, solemn

~Piffin: “Diesel”

This city is solemn
As the moon behind a cloud
When the night feeds the gutters
And the trains get loud
There are too many
Neon-littered shadows to roam
There are too many
Children calling sidewalks home
Where the crime rate is rampant
But you do what you can
And I’ve got me a buddy
With a black step van

I wear me an outfit
Made of friction tape
And nails and rubber
And taffeta and crepe
I slide through the alleys
Like a latte spill
I’m drawn to the violence
A coyote to a kill
Don’t own me a pistol
But you do what you can
Got a bat and a buddy
With a black step van

I rise with the streetlamps
And I jump to the cry
Of an urchin at the mercy
Of some savage psycho guy
Taking tax from her purity
A punch and a writhe
‘Til I show up with my slugger
And I tithe and I tithe
You can’t save all the angels
But you do what you can
Got a dozen dead rapists
In a black step van

~

~Greymane: Waiting

She stands on the platform
Alone in the rain
Waiting for him to arrive
Some say she’s enamored
Some say she’s insane
Some say she is barely alive

She waits for a promise to step off the train
A promise that never appears
He’d be back in the spring but then spring never came
… She’s waited for forty-three years

Forty-three years every mourning
is like going to church every day
The distance that hits without warning
depends how the shadows will play

I thought I might ask her a question
I whispered it soft in her ear
From where I had been I could see where she was and I told her there’s nothing to fear

I asked her to gather the moments
from now until never again
and I told her to put them all back in her heart
and don’t stand, ever, waiting for men

She then turned with a look of denial she’d not smiled for forty-three years
and said, “I do fine with my weed and my wine awaiting what never appears.”

With nodded supportive approval I turned and I floated away
From where I had been I could see where she was
but it’s further back home every day

My solemn intentions offending
Her loyalty feeding on needs
If you tithe with your heart in the church of despair
you will drown every time that it bleeds

~

~MissMerry: Song of Death and Joy

To be sung in the Gospel style with vocal harmonies, guitar and fiddle

Death is here
In every breath,
in every moment
He’s standing in our shadow
every minute of the day
He only knows
in the days and hours he’s counting
just when will come the moment
we must go with him some day.

Death is here,
Some days a close companion
as he’s standing by and watching
sending caution to our ways
All of us know
Times he offered kindly mercy
When we did some things
we shouldn’t , and
He did not make us pay.

A day comes for all
when we stand beside the fallen
a friend, a lover, or another-
Our hearts break with his pain.
His breath may be scarce
and his heartbeat barely gotten
all attempts to make him better
will sadly be in vain.

In the corner you’ll sense
just a rustling in a shadow
a subtle change of light and dark
as the hours tick away
Death is here
For it’s time for him to take him
to stand in light of glory
as he leaves us here today.

We must not despair
our lives on earth are fleeting
the few years our hearts are beating
we should fill with joy and song
We sing this refrain
and live life to be worthy
to ride that train to heaven
where you know your soul belongs

Death is here
In every breath,
in every moment
He’s standing in our shadow
every minute of the day
He only knows
in the days and hours he’s counting
just when will come the moment
we must go with him some day.

~

~BarTalk: Obit

~~

Impromptu: cruel, faucet

~Piffin: “Rental”

I need a cold drink
But this kitchen sink
Is rusted, its pipes all misshapen
This faucet is cruel
The plumber’s a tool
Throwing eyes at my ass in this apron

~

~Greymane: Grey Date

A log on the fire, the faucet still on,
a humm fading off in the night
Edwin and June unexplicably gone
Reports of mysterious lights
They called in the army and then the marines
but nothing of substance was found
except stories of peoples in flying machines
and circular burns on the ground
A newsworthy incident past comprehension
not something you see everyday
They encountered a wrinkle in other dimensions
or a cruel tete a tete with a Grey

~

~BarTalk: The Moor’s Lament

~ . ~