The Poet Of Today

     …is likely to write song lyrics rather than straight prose poetry. Today, “poets” who proclaim themselves to be such tend to be indifferent to the rules and traditions of poetry. Worse than that, the majority of them are no-talents whose “poetry” is more masturbatory than evocative. Eliot, Tennyson, and Goethe would cross the street to avoid them.

     I have a few favorite lyricists. I’ve mentioned a couple of them in these pages, and also at Liberty’s Torch V1.0. But lately, the one that stirs me most effectively is one whose works are often denigrated by the “literati,” despite his immense popularity and stunningly effective compositions. The song I have in mind just now is below. It’s the sort of thing that grabs me these days…but then, what else would you expect from an old man?

I was a little too tall
Could’ve used a few pounds
Tight pants points hardly renown
She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes
And points all her own sitting way up high
Way up firm and high

Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy
Out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy
Workin’ on mysteries without any clues
Workin’ on our night moves
Tryin’ to make some front page drive-in news
Workin’ on our night moves
In the summertime
In the sweet summertime

We weren’t in love, oh no, far from it
We weren’t searchin’ for some pie in the sky summit
We were just young and restless and bored
Livin’ by the sword
And we’d steal away every chance we could
To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods
I used her, she used me
But neither one cared
We were gettin’ our share
Workin’ on our night moves
Tryin’ to lose the awkward teenage blues
Workin’ on our night moves
And it was summertime
Sweet summertime summertime

And oh the wonder
We felt the lightning
And we waited on the thunder
Waited on the thunder

I awoke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered
Started humming a song from 1962
Ain’t it funny how the night moves
When you just don’t seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in

     Ain’t it funny how the night moves?


    • Steve Walton on June 4, 2022 at 6:50 PM

    I really like  that song, reminds me of all the things I might have done with my life (I got married at 19, we did these things but we were in love).

    • Howie Longfellow on June 5, 2022 at 4:12 AM

    Bob Seger is a construct of the white male patriarchy and that prose will be redistributed in the spirit of the egalitarian equity.

    • James Archer on June 5, 2022 at 12:46 PM

    There us a Finnish Symphonic Metal band that has been around for over 25 years and the songwriter for the group qualifies as a poet.  The lyrics are in English and the name of the band is Nightwish.

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