The Kid and friends somewhere near Lenape, Chester County, Pennsylvania, 1950


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Sunday, April 7, 2013

A Reading of Besotted Ballads Volume One


Even More Poetry of youth, 1955-1959, age 14-18.

At the end of my Senior Year of High School, I fell into deep infatuation for the young lady in the picture with me. Her parents were immigrants from the old Soviet Union and her name was Sonja.  Since she had a lot of interest in music, i tried to impress her by writing a musical play a la Broadway, which I called Ya-Ha-Whoey!

Besotted Ballads Volume One contains the lyrics to the songs from that play.

Although most of these songs were written in 1959, some were written earlier than that such as "My Little White Lamb", "Ya-Ha-Whoey" and "It's Christmas Only Next Week".

The lyrics of the song "Ya-Ha-Whoey" were writen by Stuart Meisel and myself.

These were written in Downingtown and Bucktown, Pa.

My dedication was to the Jeannette S. (Who was another girlfriend of mine.)



If you watch the video, I suggest you scroll down to the bottom of my blog and turn off the music player.
Also, on the video trame, bottom right are a square of four corners. Click this to make it full screen for easier viewing.


“Yum Ye Ye Yum” and “Lonely Boy”
Were publicly performed as part of the production
Frantic Frank on Musick
Directed by Doris Hunter
Owen J. Roberts High School,
Bucktown, Pa. in May 1959 and at
Bethel Methodist Church,
Spring City, Pa. in June 1959
Copyright 1959, 2012
LEM Productions,
Bucktown, Pa.

“My Little White Lamb”
Published by Crown Publishing Co., New York, NY

Recorded by Ben Tate on Ronnie Records in 1961.
Copyright 1957, 2012
Larry E. Meredith,
Bucktown, Pa.







The remaining poems in this volume are the lyrics from the play
Ya-Ha-Whoey!,
Written by Larry Eugene Meredith.
All lyrics are by Larry Eugene Meredith
except “Ya-Ha-Whoey”, written by
Larry Eugene Meredith and Stuart R. G. Meisel.
Original Musical Score by Robert Condon.
Copyright 1956, 1957, 1959, 2004, 2012
Larry E. Meredith & Stuart R. Meisel
Bucktown & Valley Forge, Pa.

 

The model on both covers is my wife.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

A Reading of From A Further Room...

More Poetry of youth, 1958-1959, age 17-18.

Some of these poems are from a Poetry reading I did in 1959. Most of the verses here were published over the decades after I graduated high school.

These were written in Bucktown, Pa.

My dedication was to the Ladies of My Youth.



If you watch the video, I suggest you scroll down to the bottom of my blog and turn off the music player.
Also, on the video trame, bottom right are a square of four corners. Click this to make it full screen for easier viewing.


“Spider and the Fly”, “School is a Pain in the Neck”, “A Lesson is a Mess, Son”, “Molly’s Girdle”, “A Regret”, “Rainy Days”, “When I was Alone”, “This Year 1959”
From “Twenty-Six Poems: A Reading”
February 1959
Sponcered by Agnes C. Manser
Owen J. Roberts High School
Copyright 1958, 1959
Bucktown, Pa.
Copyright by Larry Eugene Meredith 2012


“Gatherings”, and “Optimyth”
Publicly read at the “17tth Annual Poetry Reading Against Nuclear Holocaust”
Displayed at the Ward Public Library
Ward, Colorado
July 1998
Published in the Anthology
A Poem to Save the World: Readings Against Nuclear War
1998

“Old Man’s Lament”
Second Saturday
Jo Allen, editor
Wilmington, Delaware
2005

“Leader’s Sonnet”, “Lonely Months”, “Lost in Love”, Out Upon the Bay”, and “Laughter and Loneliness”
Poetry Vortex
Dallas Kirk Gantt, editor
Wilmington, Delaware
2007

“Laughter and Lonliness”
One Stop Poetry
Pete Marshall, editor
February 2011

“Lost in Love”
Potluck Poetry
Jingle Poetry
Shashi, editor
August 2011


“A Group of Noisy People”
Voices & Friends
A Little Something
Nancy Rosback, editor
December 2011

“Waitin’ for Graduation”
Was written for the Class of ’59 Graduation Committee
Owen J. Roberts High School April 1959
Bucktown, Pa.
Copyright by Larry Eugene Meredith 2009

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

A Reading of Early in the Mourning

I had begun dabbling around with poetry in grade school. Most of my earliest scribbles long ago disappeared.

At age 12 I began to take writing a bit more seriously and started to collect and preserve what I wrote.

So this volume, Early in the Mourning, is my earliest childhood poetry still in existence. I have long ago committed it to print, then entered it into the digital world of the computer. Now I decided to read it as a video and so here below is my reading of Early in the Morning. The poems and parodies within were all written between early 1954 and early 1958, from an age 0f 12 to 16. Almost all these efforts were performed and/or published many years ago, although one written in 1956 was not published until 1998.

I suggest you stroll to the bottom of my Blog and turn off the music player before listening to the video.




by Larry Eugene Meredith



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“Rich Man$ $ixteen Ton$”, “Willie Ameere’s Drive”, “I Beg-g-g of You-u-u”, “Hot Rod Richard”, “A Teenage Girl At a Big Star Record Hop Dance in 1957”, “Frankenstein”, “Stranger”, “But Instead of Jazz…”, “On Main Street”, “Pennsylvania”, “Paul Anka, “Walking, Talking Sack Dress”, “Random Ideas Concerning certain Pages in My Grammar”, “Please!”, “A Cup of Tea”, “Hot Rod” and “Goodbye Tango”
From “Twenty-Six Poems: A Reading”
February 1959
Sponcered by Agnes C. Manser
Owen J. Roberts High School
Copyright 1955, 1956, 1957, 1958
Bucktown, Pa.
Copyright by Larry Eugene Meredith 2012

“I’m Gonna Drink that Blood Right Outta Her Neck”, “Older Than Egypt”, “A Wonderful Wolf” and “Some Enchanted Graveyard”
From “South Cemetary”
April 1958
NORCO High School
Copyright 1957, 1958
Bucktown, Pa.
Copyright by Larry Eugene Meredith 2012

“Cycle”
Publicly read at the “17tth Annual Poetry Reading Against Nuclear Holocaust”
Displayed at the Ward Public Library
Ward, Colorado
July 1998
Published in the Anthology
A Poem to Save the World: Readings Against Nuclear War
1998
Copyright by Larry Eugene Meredith 1957, 1998, 2012

Saturday, July 24, 2010

DAYS OF DESPONDENCY: Poetry by Larry Eugene Meredith


POETRY WRITTEN  1969-1976

Ode to My Grandmother Upon her 75th Birthday


She taught me reading of words upon her knee
At four twenty and four Washington Ave,
In the kitchen she made crust pies for me
I’ve never had better than those I’d have.
You know, in eighteen hundred ninety nine
This country was a dissimilar place,
Lacking conveniences from in our time!
Automobile excursion, not outer space.
States were not all states; borders not yet strung.
Through History she stayed forever young.


When somebody has been there all your life
They can be simply taken for granted.
Through the moments of joy, hard times and strife,
She was there with love given openhanded.
It’s art to be a grandmother; science too.
Some are artisans. Mine was a master.
How can you show what someone means to you?
Carve their statute in white alabaster?
I count it a blessing I’m her grandson.
I’ll survey her and stay forever young.


Eleventh, June, nineteen seventy four,
Happy Birthday, mam-mam, at seventy-five.
You gave the future to me, and much more,
You made the past glow vivid and alive.
Today ev’rybody sings you a song.
I want you to know in my heart will sing
Ev’ry visit where you took me along,
Each story told, ev’ry toy you would bring,
And this paean will forever be sung.
For being so hip and forever young!
















Written for my maternal; grandmother on her 75th birthday.


The photos are of her in her youth and on her last birthday celebrating with her great grand children.


Esther 1899-1978



SPRINGS

March Daze



Smoke lazily strays
In turns and dances.
It drifts
Throughout March daze. Seasons stubbornly stay.
Neither the snow nor the sun will lift.

Smoke lazily strays
To the west.
Warm rays cook the clouds.
The red glow sifts throughout the March daze.
Wind huffs spring our way
And bleak winter stirs to shift.

Smoke lazily strays,
Like high water ‘cross bays.
Pregnant trees adorn the cliffs
Throughout the March daze.
Progeny of May’s
Is conceived by airy whiffs
As smoke lazily strays throughout the March daze.

Companions






At the side of March
Steps April, dressed in green.
Collar stiff with starch.

Secret Girl


Shallow gal, deep-down girl,
M.A.D. eyes so tricky light.
Doors shut, windows up,
Secret day, open night.

Secret girl with morning
Frown; twilight laugh. Cute. Chic.
Be with me a secret;
Be indiscreet.

Secret girl whispering,
Philadelphia Street.
Dance, prance the barroom floor.
Yell and shout when we’re fleet.

Secret girl, deep-down girl,
Mystique. What other name?
Who are you? Blue? Purple?
Or are you both the same?

Stay cloaked; hid away.
Come out into my world.
Hide and seek. Be insane,
Sane girl, M.A.D. girl.

SIimple Song


A simple song
Of lyric true
To simply say
I love you.

No messages
Or mystery of
The way I feel.
You I love.

It is not art
That I strive for.
It’s your heart.

A simple song
Of melody
That captures the
Simple me.

Come sing with me
My simple song
That begs you to
Sing along.

It’s no hall
I wish to fill.
It’s my soul.

Two Josephs


Joseph came and took Him in hand.
Carefully he laid Jesus down.

Breath held, the earth gathered around
In worship. Silence held the land.
Side by side stood the low and grand
To touch the hem of the baby’s gown.

Joseph came and took Him in hand.
Carefully he laid Jesus down.

Stepping from his place he came to stand,
Risking his position and renown,
Under the cross. He reached a hand
To take the body of the Son of Man.

Joseph came and took Him in hand.
Carefully he laid Jesus down.

Walk by the White Watergate: [Same-old-same-old lessons from history] Part I


You could not see a plane, because
No plane was fueled to fly.
No cars were driving on the road,
There was no gas to buy.

The Walrus and the Carpenter,
The latter head of state;
They wept like anything to see,
The fruits of Watergate.
“I’ll not wallow in this mess,”
Said one. “Don’t,” said his mate.

“If senators with seven tapes
Searched for all the year,
Do you suppose,” asked Carpenter,
“That we could get off clear?”
“I doubt it, boss,” said the Walrus,
And shed a bitter tear.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile ahead
When inspiration came. “Sir,
There’s something you should know,”
The Walrus said, “I wish to stay,
But I think that I should go.”

The Carpenter was all alone
As the ocean roared,
And the timid, tiny oysters
Formed an inquiry board.
So he called a lobster to his side,
‘Twas the best he could afford.

O woeful, weeping Carpenter, your
Tears are all a sham.
Why don’t you do like Walrus did
And take it on the lam?
Too late to shut the Watergate
Or the bursting dam.

“The time has come,” said Carpenter,
“To talk of many things.
Of China and of income tax,
Of prisoners and kings,
And what detante is or is not,
And does Kissinger have wings?”

“But wait a bit,” the oysters cried,
“Before going on with that.
We think that’s just a cover-up,
Like your paper hat,
And if you don’t come clean,
We’re going to toss you out.”

“Toss me out,” said the Carpenter.
“Don’t you realize
The tales you’ve been told
Are only lobster lies
And exaggerations made up
By newspaper spies?

“First they kicked my dog about
And then my Walrus friend.
It’s a left wing conspiracy
To bring me to an end,
And if you don’t cease right now,
I shan’t speak to you again.”

Walk by the White Watergate: [Same-old-same-old lessons from history] Part II



Just when the water seems safe
Here came a strange new twosome.
Dancing in perfect harmony
Was Hilly-dee and Billy-dum.
They pranced about with deeds undone
And left behind words designed to numb.

“The time has come,” said Dee and Dum,
“To talk of many things.
Of China and of income tax,
Of councils and kings,
And what intercourse is or is not,
And does Monica have wings?”

“Starrs come out,” said Dum and Dee.
“But don’t you realize
The tales you’ve been told
Are only lobster lies
And exaggerations made up
By newspaper spies?

“We read your case, long gone Carpenter,
And we mean you no malice,
But it’s a right-wing conspiracy
That surrounds this palace.”

                          “Don’t tell the talking heads,
                          But I’ve been dating Alice.”

                                           “What’s that you say,” asked Hilly-dee
                                           “Would you risk us being jailed?”

                        “Now, never fret my faithful pet,
                        You know I’ve never failed.
                         I’ve blown smoke about adultery,
                        But I ne’er inhaled.”




Illustration: Novelty items of the Clintons


This poems was written 23 years after Part I and 22 years after this collection was originally put together, but this seemed the proper place to include it.

Friday, July 23, 2010

SUMMERS

Notice From a Member of the In-Crowd


If people
passing

Are
Peeking
 in,

They will find me
Peeking
out at
them.

Kisses

Kisses are the blossoms
Fallen to the river
Touching with calm softness
Yet strong as the tide can make them
Rippling in the currents
Of the rushing river

They are mine forever
Taken from their giver
Smooth to worldly roughness
Placid on the stormy lake then
Floating like a flower
On a rushing river

Kisses are the breezes
Blowing on the river
Brimming with refreshness
Touching early evening darkness
Given unto blossom
These blooms of the giver

Kisses are the blossoms
Fallen from the giver
Pressing gentle softness
On the lips pursing to take them
Burning on the surface
Of my rushing river

Behind the Rain


Behind tonight’s rain a
Coldness drops upon me.
The highway lights glisten;
Traffic’s wet symphony.

It reminds me of that one,
When the days were good.
One had unruly tresses,
When the days were good.
It reminds me of this one,
When the days were good.
It reminds me of one’s passion,
When the days were good,
When nights were caresses,
When the days were good.

Behind tonight’s moon,
Stars’ dark side to me.
Some corner hooker
Will pretend sympathy.
Behind tomorrow’s sun,
Roads ahead of me.
Highway surfaces flood,
With traffic like a sea.
Reminds me of another one
Once a summer long,
That one’s coolly flashing eyes,
Once a summer long.
Once a summer long
When the days were good.

Rhyme Royal to Jazz




Alone at evening dusk, myself and jazz,
Our chords both soft and sad. Alone we test
The scale for new expression. Our impasse?
Imagination fails. Our notes but jest.
The mind of man is not up to the test.
      How terrible are these limits of mind
      That at the end of thought our actions bind.

Joe



who went reluctant
protesting his draft

but fought well
was officially heroic
more times than once

became a leader
served honorably

winning
bronze star
three oak leaf clusters
battalion presidential citation
five air metals
vietnam national metals

purple heart

loves family
loves america
loves god

came back alive not loving unreason

To Lois


Old hills glow in soft eve light on leaf shine,
Where we step as we find our way to love.
The wind song in the trees sounded above
Our heads when we came close, when you were mine.
Sunlit spring noon ablaze that youthful time.
Middays each spent in walks with hand in tow,
Lingering morning dews gave grass a glow,
Then you up rose to touch this soul of mine.
The hour has come to see us home again,
Dark clouds are black and wet across the wood.
Let us go run between the time it could
And time it would pool its moisture and rain.
At length we laugh to see raindrops go by
Not hitting us, me and you, you and I.

Love Song Without Lyric


I love you,
Though I never say it.

In saying it,
You lose the substance.
Can you say “ocean”
And touch what you mean?
Does the word express
Sea depth and strength?
Does it crash like white wave
Or dart like a fish?
Do you feel the moon tug
In voicing the word?
Can you sift the sand
Or breathe the salt spray
In speaking the sound?
You lose the feel of life,
Of strength, of mystery.

To say “ocean”
Is to say nothing.

To say “I love you”
                                                 Is but little more

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