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A FLIGHT FROM
THE PAST
November 15, 1998
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Photo by Dan Chapman ©2001 Stanyan
Entertainment Group
A Thought for Today
Every woman is a Renoir waiting to be
unveiled.

SONGS
ON SUNDAY
Answering Johnny Bartlett’s letter on Friday got me to thinking about
songwriting versus poetry. You might have noticed that since this Flight
Plan series started I’ve never printed any of my songs. The reasons are
complicated, but boil down to the fact that as a poet, I never think of
songs as poetry. After all, unless you hear the music & the lyric to a
song together they are only words if said or music if just played.
There’s a frequently quoted story about Mrs. Oscar Hammerstein II and the
following overheard party conversation: One woman says to another "I’ve
just come back from the theatre where I heard Jerome Kern’s new song "Old
Man River." Hearing this Mrs. Hammerstein replied, "Excuse me, Mr. Kern
wrote "da-da-ddah, da, te-da-da-dah . . . my husband wrote "Old Man River,
that Old Man River."
My own songs, whether I write both words and music or am fortunate enough
to work with talented and inventive composers, are meant to be sung not
said. Nothing gets me crazier than seeing lyrics judged as poetry. It’s a
mistake that critics make or do deliberately. Had I listened to those
reviewers who judged me a mediocre poet because the lyrics to "If You Go
Away" or "Jean" don’t measure up to "The Truthful Lover" or "Now I Have
The Time" I’d have been crazier and more eccentric than I already am.
Of course I’ve been guilty of encouraging the confusion, by printing song
lyrics as final chapters in my books of poetry. Though I have always been
careful to label them as songs, I’ve still encountered reviews where a
writer cites "One more time around Piccadilly Circus, driver follow that
bus. It’s a shame the way the rich folks work us, Everybody’s Rich But
Us," or "How did I get from dark to daylight till you happened to pass by?
How did I find my way through life before you brightened up my sky?" as
proof that I’m a less than stellar poet. Those lines certainly are not
poetry, by any stretch of the imagination, And they should not be judged
as such, but as song lyrics within the context of "Everybody’s Rich But
Us" and "I Think of You" they do the job.
I love my songs. They are as much a part of me as anything else I do and
they are my children just as "Listen To The Warm" and "Fields of Wonder"
are members of the family. So too are "Seasons In The Sun", "Loves Been
Good To Me", "A Boy Named Charlie Brown" and "Jean" next of kin.
Writing a different flight plan every day means trying out lots of ideas
and I try out lots of different ideas. Sunday seems as good a time as any
to talk about and feature some of the words to some of my songs. Poetry
they ain’t, but judging from the success of some of them, they aren’t
orphans either. So, here without the music to amplify and push them along,
are words I’ve written to be sung.
Some Songs For Pet
Today is Petula Clark’s
birthday. Pet is not only one of the best-loved and most popular singers
the world over, she is a talented actress, a great mother and a highly
successful songwriter herself.
When Glenn Gould and I exchanged long phone calls in the middle-night, we
talked about everything . . . sex, pianistics, poetics, phobias, gossip –
you name it. Most often though we chatted about our mutual love and
admiration for Pet Clark. Ella Fitzgerald called her "One of a kind, with
the breath control of an angel." Sinatra said of her "There isn’t any
better or more polished singer anywhere, I could listen to her all night."
When I played "The Wind of Change" for Leonard Bernstein he commented, "My
God, the lady should be singing lieder. Her range is stratospheric."
Petula can sing the most banal lyric and because of her range, depth of
perception and understanding of how to turn a phrase and deliver a lyric,
make it sound like the finest work of Porter, Larry Hart or Mercer. When
she gets a great song, (like those tucked away in albums titled after her
hits), look out.
I’ve known Pet and loved her for a few decades and over the years been
lucky enough to work with her too – alas, never enough. I’ve sung her
songs and she’s sung mine and now and again we pop up on each others
albums in duets. Best of all for me, I’ve written material especially for
that gorgeous and otherworldly voice of hers to sing. For me, it doesn’t
get much better than hearing Pet Clark bend and shape and caress my words.
Again today is the birthday of Petula Clark, so near the end of this
Flight Plan instead of a poem, you’ll find the lyrics to a few songs I’ve
written for and dedicate to her.
- RM, Sunday Morning
11/15/98
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Edward Asner o
Howard Baker o
Daniel Barenboim o
Joanna Barnes o
Jorge Bolet o
Beverly D’Angelo o
Peter Dickenson o
Felix Frankfurter o
Bill “C.W. McCall” Fries o W.
Averill Harriman o
John Kerr o
Selma Kurtz o
Curtis Le May o
Frida Lyngstad o
Whitman Mayo o
Clyde McPhatter o
Bill Melendez o
Marianne Moore o
Georgia O’Keeffe o
Erwin Rommel o
Judge Joseph Wapner o
Sam Waterston . . . and of course a
very special birthday wish to Petula Clark. |
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You
win if you think you've won. 
Love cannot be said aloud too often or
spoken in silence too many times.

Habit is our worst enemy until we learn to
make it our friend.

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FIVE SONGS FOR PETULA
ON HER BIRTHDAY, 1998 |
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The Wind of Change
music: Jaquine Rodrigo • words: Rod McKuen
[Based on a theme from The Concerto de Arenjuez]
Quietly... like the breeze that blows the olive tree
the wind of change has come down from the hills
to lead me home again through the last mile of sunshine.
As easily as the moon makes patterns on the lifeless lake
man grinds the flowers of the fields beneath his heels
and you wonder if he feels... love... or even boredom.
And my friend... the wind of change is asking questions.
Suddenly there are now so many giants everywhere
so many men who think even God looks small
when they are walking tall.
And the wind of change is smiling.
Could it be... that his smile is just another kind of frown
because he knows the world is finally falling down
and going back to dust
and if we trust those men who trample on the grass
emptiness is all that we can ever hope to ask for.
Listen and hear the sound of the dying grass bleed
it’s bleeding for man
and the fool he just won’t understand.
Is it too late to change... the wind of change ?
I Think of You
Music: Francis Lai • Words: Rod McKuen
When I’m alone at night
and there’s no one to comfort me
I think of you
and suddenly my pillow
is your face and arms.
And when the winter wind
comes chasing after me
I think of you
and it’s as though I’ve crawled beneath
a blanket soft and warm.
How did I get
from dark to daylight
till you happened to pass by ?
How did I find my way through life
until you brightened up my sky ?
Was there a sky at all
till you painted it for me ?
How did I get on, till you came along ?
Who knows how many times
I pause in every day
to think of you
as often as the sun sails out
upon the silent sea
and if you’re wondering why it is
I only think of you
well it’s because I’d like to be
as close to you,
as you’ve become to me,
I think of you
I think of you.
A While More With You
Words & music: Rod McKuen
[Written for but not used in the film "Goodbye Mr. Chips"]
Let me stay a while more with you
There’s so much I have yet to learn
Do you like the colors green and blue
Let me stay a while more with you.
Let me walk a mile more with you
There’s so many back roads left to see
We can watch them open up anew
Let me walk a mile more with you.
So much of yourself you let no one see
When you’re beside me
I wonder how much of me is really me.
Let me share a smile more with you
There’s so many smiles I’ve yet to give
Before you came my smiles were very few
So let me share a smile, walk a mile
Let me stay a while more with you.
Kaleidoscope
Words & Music: Rod McKuen
Come with me, what wonders we’ll find,
The ducks on the millpond that swim in the mind.
Come with me, together we’ll go,
Where buttercups shoot through the roof of the snow.
And many the sights that we’ll see.
I’ll look in your eyes and see me.
K, I, Kaleidoscope
Love is another color for hope.
Pain is a separate color from joy,
How many colors there are to enjoy.
Come with me, through valleys of green
We’ll live like the mudlark deep down in a dream,
Come with me, take hold of my hand
I’ll walk you past panthers asleep in the sand,
How lucky some people will be
To look in our eyes and see we.
K, I, Kaleidoscope
Love is another color from hope.
Pain is a separate color from joy,
How many colors there are to enjoy.
Come with me, stay close by my side
The road is so rocky, the world is so wide,
Come with me, and we will go far
Far is forever, wherever we are
How wise is our world and how new,
You’ll look in my eyes and see you.
K, I, Kaleidoscope
Love is another color from hope.
Pain is a separate color from joy,
How many colors there are to enjoy.
Friendly Sounds
Music: Francis Lai • words: Rod McKuen
Hello my friend, my funny friend
why are you lookin’ so down
make me a laugh, well, maybe half
and I’ll show you all my friendly sounds.
Listen and hear, inside your ear
all kinds of pretty things talking to you.
Listen to the rain on the windowpane
listen to the cricket on the hearth
and if you should hear thunder in your ear
it’s just the friendly sounding of your heart.
I know you cry, well, so do I
but when I really get low
I think about the distance to doubt
and find it’s too far to go.
So dry your eyes, pick up your pride
oh, yes, my weepy friend, I’m talking to you.
Listen to the rain on the windowpane
listen to the cricket on the hearth
and if you should hear thunder in your ear
it’s just the friendly sounding of your heart.
Listen to the rain on the windowpane
listen to the cricket on the hearth
And if you should hear some thunder in your ear
it’s just the friendly sounding of your heart.
© 1977, 1984, 1999 by Stanyan Music
Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved |
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