21st & 22nd March, 2005

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rod in “The Best is Yet to Come” 11/6/04
Photo by Shira Greenburg ©2004 by Broadway.com. Used by Permission

A Thought for Today

Never use age as an excuse for not thinking young.

 

FROM the¨BOOKS

Two Poems from The Sound of Solitude.

THE FRONT-YARD SQUIRREL

The front-yard squirrel
is stealing oranges.
He crabs and chitchats
                    to himself,
then threading through and
into leaves and branches
he spies an orange
three times his head size.
Arching like an acrobat
and somersaulting like a tumbler,
his back toes wound around a limb,
he swings out toward
the would-be catch
as graceful as a gymnast in a tournament.

Aha! He grasps his heavy beachball
and steadies in a perfect arch.

Hanging for a moment
with his underside exposed
                    to street and sky,
then with a quick decisive snap
he twists the sphere from off the branch.
Dangling like deadfall
with his early morning catch,
he bends back up
with strain but no uncertainty
till finally he's walking on two legs
back through the green to safer limbs.

Thud. His morning feast
                         has fallen
and splashed upon the driveway,
it rocks a moment
then lies still.

Such a chattering
pervades the morning air--
a friend begins to chatter back.
The front-yard squirrel
does not engage in conversation.
Back to work.
He settles on a golden globe
            much higher up
and with a new determination
begins his high-wire act again.
An orange for breakfast
before the noon sun signals luncheon.


LIONS LOSS

Bingo blinks
and then rolls on his back
               flat out,
paws stretch up
        to meet the air
as if to push aside
great blocks of firmament.
A lazy dandy lion,
pausing in his prowl,
he senses something gone
(you used to carry him about
        from room to room,
he misses that).

I miss your breasts against me,
the arguments our eyes had after dark.
Every day a new void opens,
the old ones never close.

-from "The Sound of Solitude," 1983

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notable birthdays

Monday 21 March
Human Rights Day
Canberra Day (Australia)
Benito Jaurez’s Birthday (Mexico)

Johann Sebastian Bach o Matthew Broderick o Edgar Buchanan o Pat Chesley o James Coco o Timothy Dalton o Mark Hellinger o Mort Lindsey o Phyllis McGinley o Modest Mussorgsky o Rosie O'Donnell o Gary Oldman o Ayrton Senna da Silva o Kathleen Widdoes o Florenz Ziegfeld

Tuesday 22 March

George Benson o May Britt o Don Chaney o Bob Costas o Virginia Grey o Orrin Hatch o Werner Klemperer o Karl Malden o Marcel Marceau o Ross Martin o Chico Marx o J.P. McCarthy o Matthew Modine o Lena Olin o Joseph Schildkraut o William Shatner o Stephen Sondheim o Elvis Stojko o Sir Anthony Van Dyck o Andrew Lloyd Webber o Reese Witherspoon o Marvin Yagoda

Rod's random thoughts Brains take second place to will.

I'll take being needed over being successful any day, and being wanted trumps being rich every time.

Envy of one pocket for another pocket's goods is undesirable, especially if both are on the same pair of pants.

I NEVER SAW
SO MUCH OF SPRING
 

I never saw so much of spring
                  As I see now.
The tender willow turning amber.
The nightingale, the bat, the sparrow
                   In the heavens raving..
The moon behind the spider
                             Making web.
now blotted out by geese in trumpet,
home again, home again, home to spring.

The toad has found his roadside,
butterflies are jumping from cocoons,
ants and crickets share the bush
and every truth of this sweet season.
The moon is now a pearl
                         a cloud its shell
as in the tall bamboo and reed
cicadas sing in four-part harmony.
I think the older seasons envy spring.
                        and well they should.
The roses are not blood red
                              or purple in extreme.
a subtle pink, a lazy lavender
no single petal scorched by sun.
All things al dente, underdone.

How is it than in all the years
I never saw this much of spring?
To think I once thought tenderness
            lay underfoot of autumn.
I am the aging sparrow's twin
suffering from ill attention
when all souls concentrate
                             on April things.

-from Another Beautiful Day, 1985

 
© 1983, 1985, 1986, 1998, 2005 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Webmaster: Ken Blackie o Birthday research by Wade Alexander, coordinated by Melinda Smith
Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Sound & Fury: Dr. Eric Yeager o Editor at Large: Bruce Bellingham
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