#dylan poems on Hello Poetry

Dylan Dec 2018

NEVER HAVE I SUFFERED MORE
NEVER HAVE I FELT SUCH PAIN
LOSS HAS STRUCK ME TO MY CORE
/
YET, I FEEL, I MUST REMAIN
DEMONS HAUNT ME IN MY SOUL
LIFE, I'LL GIVE, BUT NOT IN VAIN
/
WORTHY AM I OF NO DOLE
SHIP MY PITH TO DIGNITAS
TO DEAR CHARON, PAY THE TOLL
/
LORD ABOVE PLEASE GRANT ME PAUSE
YOU ALONE I WILL ADORE
TAKE MY LOVE AND GIVE ME CAUSE
/
NEVER HAVE I SUFFERED MORE
STILL, FOR LIFE, I AM A *****

#suicide #death #pain #suffering #love #charon #poetry #dylan #goodman

Oliver Philip Dec 2018

Do not go gentle into that good night....by Dylan Thomas.

A Villanelle poetic form
Is a Nineteen line poem
5 Stanzas of three lines
Followed by a single Stanza of four lines
Two refrains and two repeating rhymes
Rhyme patterns
A1 ,b A2.a,b ,A1.a,b,A2.a,b,A1.a,b,A2 ,a,b,A1,A2
Here is a famous Villanelle by Dylan Thomas.
1914-1953.
~~~~~~~~~
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rage at close of day
Rage ,rage , against the dying of the light

Though wise men at their end know dark is right.
Because their words had forked no lightening they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men the last wave by crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a Green Bay.
Rage,rage, against the dying of the light

Wild men who caught and sang the men in flight.
And learned too late ; they grieved it on its way
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men near death , who see with blinding sight.
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage,rage against the dying of the light

And you my father there on the sad height
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted by Philip as a Villanelle Exercise.
December 7th 2018.

An exercise in writing a Villanelle

#*** #villanelle #by #dylan #thomas #19141953

Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014

Letter from Bob Dylan and the 352 Blues

for Ali, Ali, Ali, a daughter by any other name
(April 2014)
Dear Nat,

your letter caught me up,
at the Village Vanguard bar,
so addressed and there saved,
knowing, believing it's a sign,
time to meet fleshed again,
my sometimes sub-let
neighborhood friend

doing a gig there
this weekend
finishing up the tour
where it all began,
nothing gonna change my mind,
in the city that's where I'm staying.

the road is calling out my name,
but I ain't walking out the door anytime soon,
they want too much body and soul,
but don't worry once or even twice,
got some cash, it's all right

early afternoon, bar empty,
got a few rainy minutes,
got me paper n' pen
and a beer, from the
bar man who also gets
me whatever else I need (haha)

sorry I missed you in Cleveland,
you, back in New York when
I'm finally out your way,
ain't just like fate,
to make us ache so all alone

read your lyrics,
made making some suggestions,
like a baby's new clothes,
lots of bows, a few lines fell
down onto the floor
can't be found
like broken pearls on a dance floor

J. sends regards,
told her what you wrote about
A Long Black Veil, she laughed,
promises she will wear one
when next we all three meet

touring was good and hard,
traveling time is writing time,
but sitting here thinking
how many years have passed and gone
since we first met,
so many roads different taken
by many a first friend,
each one I've never seen against,
let's not that happen to us

rail riding done for awhile,
see ya back on Bleecker Street,
if we're still "cool"
we'll have that fire burning!
Ok, we'll swap some lines, fine,
but I want, claiming dibs
on that ole easy chair

P.S. got the rent money covered till your return in the summer

Bobby
April 1968
~~~~~~~~~
Between 1968 and 1973,
split my time tween Cleveland and NYC,
before returning to ny full time in the summer of '71.

I lived at 352 Bleecker,
above the long gone
but now moved to Brooklyn,
Pink Teacup restaurant. The eyetalian bakery on the corner of Bleecker and Seventh Ave., long time gone...almost fifty freaking years ago...anyway...I think the stain glass window is still there, gonna have to check it out...shoot forgot about Google Earth!

The 352 Blues

this city treats the poor
with swift unkindness,
but if you peel your eyes,
you don't necessarily have to always
sing the ole 352 Bleecker Blues

the eyetalian storekeeper,
gives us morning java,
when we sing for him on the guitar,
The Star-Spangled Banner,
refills, if we add America the Beautiful

they say that heat rises,
but that don't seem true
in our third floor walk up
on rue 352 Bleecker Street,
the cold companion enters
thru the busted stain glass window

no matter, no cares,
we light the fireplace,
with wood and anything that'll burn,
we scavenged from the street,
pallets and newspapers,
yesterday's 352 truths

at two AM, the cops, in their cars
cooping, fast asleep, only just us,
the johns, the ****** and troubadours,
walking the streets looking for
free stuff to burn

pass the hat for tips
next to the arch,
enough for daily bread
but we get our ***** and ****
for free, just for singing the 352 blues

even when down and out
on the village streets,
bleak on Bleecker street,
you gotta sing the 352 blues,
especially when you're
riding high and living cool,
down on easy Bleecker Street
~~~~~~~
Before you ask me if this true,
save your breath,
the answer is
Which part?

#bob #dylan #352 #bleecker #street

Sharon Talbot Jul 2018

American Idiot Wind

Dylan got it first, as he often did,
That American youth were ignorant kids,
Betrayed by the things our parents hid.
And we were insulted just a little bit
But we listened and took the plunge,
Determined to expunge
The poison and let out the Id.

It was up to us not heed the call up
And as one voice we stood up,
Saying, shouting NO!

Twenty or so legendary years for some;
While others sold out, we beat the drum.
Our peers oddly died around us but….
Even as we ‘felt those cold hands’ touch our skin,
As The Capitalists were closing in—
& Some of them were us…
We sounded the drum.

Later on some hippie-punks or is it the other way(?)
Sang about extraordinary girls & then took a fall.
Sometimes begged for Novocain
Which wouldn’t relieve psychic pain,
Like being Ramonely sedated in a concert hall.
Nobody knew what to do with them.
Except to give them fame.

(It was just as bad for them as for the Clash)…
Hell, they almost invented the mash-up.
And too many anti-hippie punks
Loaded on cheap ****** or always drunk,
Claimed all those heroes had sold out.
But Ziggy would’ve known Ash from Ash.

Then came their Blood on the Tracks;
They finally saw what Dylan saw,
Or, if they saw it before,
They got some Real Emotion back.

Nothing has changed and everything has changed,
Said The Heathen…and he should know.

But how do we see, stuck here ‘so far below’,
Not remotely in the know;
They might be on an intergalactic trip
Or as in “A.I”, nothing more than a binary blip?
But encased in virtual ice, how can we live?
Until the end…and even then…
As John wrote, we only get the love we give.

This is my homage to a generation, and the ones after it, who rock and rebel, who never give up, with some cheeky references for fun. I imagine Green Day meeting Dylan in a darkened pub, as he did the Beatles so many years before...exchanging views and if we're lucky, collaborating on a song.

#greenday #dylan #rockroll #newwave #rebellion #sedation #ziggystardust #theclash #ramones #lennon

Sarah Langton Jun 2018

Dylan

i want you,
in every way there is to want a person.

from lazy rainy days
sitting around in underwear,
wrapped up in the covers
enveloped in each other.

to lustful late nights
high happy and in love,
too absorbed with each other
to focus on anything else.

i want you.
and i see so much in you
that counting all your perfections
would be like counting the stars,
there's too many to keep track of
and they just seem endless.

i am utterly in love
with every inch of your being,
every corner of your mind
and everything in between

i might not know what i believe
or where i'm going
or what i'm doing,
but i do hope
you'll hold my hand
and wander blindly with me.
because as long as i'm with you
i don't need a destination,
you are the journey.

i am simply enamored with your entity,
captivated by your character,
fascinated
infatuated
amorous
in love.

#love #dylan #boyfriend #happy #smiles

Megan H Feb 2018

Ramblings about the Social Construction of Time

I walk through these days
In a blur
I question reality.
Feeling timeless
Although I am a creature of time.

And sometimes-
I wish I were an animal
Because they truly live without worry.
And then they die
But death doesn't stop them from living.

And I want that.
I want to live without the thought of death.
I don't want to die in a hospital bed like those before me.
I want to rage against the dying of the light
As Thomas once said.

And I want to love
And love deeply
And together there will be no time,
Just us.
Just until we are no more.

Time is a social construction

#time #life #love #loss #death #happy #want #dylan #thomas #rage

Henry Koskoff Oct 2017

cashmere

his eyes wide and blue
bulging expressively
his sweater soft
it’s cashmere and it caresses tender surfaces
bundles of it gather over time at scattered oases
they are now mine
they are now my bundles
they smell of old clothing and mildew but he still is dressed by them
he is living in them
pointe shoes pound the surface of the stage
but look increasingly elegant
like my mother
their costumes glistening and frosted by a powdery film
of glitter and artificial snow
now Bob Dylan’s punctual strings resonate in my memory
he’s telling me to keep my head forward like Steve used to do
if I don’t look back
i don’t have to say goodbye

#cashmere #steve #bob #dylan #sweater #nutcracker #dance #pointe #clothing #mother

krm Jul 2017

The Days Of Dylan

The times they-are a-changin;
you ain't going nowhere.

Not dark yet,
rainy day women

subterranean homesick blues,
if not for you --
when the deal goes down,
lay, lady, lay.

I shall be released;
blowin' in the wind,
like a rolling stone

Down the highway.

Girl from the north county;
mr tambourine man,
jokerman,
ring them bells.

With god on our side,
to Ramona—
it takes a lot to laugh,
it takes a train to cry

#bob #dylan #dylans #greatest #hits #music #inspired #poem

brandon nagley Apr 2017

Ballad of a thin Man ( Bob Dylan lyrics)

You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

Ballad of a Thin Man" is a dirge song written and recorded by Bob Dylan, and released as the final track on Side One of his sixth album, Highway 61 Revisited, in 1965.
Dylan's song revolves around the mishaps of a Mr. Jones, who keeps blundering into strange situations, and the more questions he asks, the less the world makes sense to him. Critic Andy Gill called the song "one of Dylan's most unrelenting inquisitions, a furious, sneering, dressing-down of a hapless bourgeois intruder into the hipster world of freaks and weirdoes which Dylan now inhabited."[6]

In August 1965, soon after recording the song, when questioned by Nora Ephron and Susan Edmiston about the identity of Mr. Jones, Dylan was deadpan: "He's a real person. You know him, but not by that name... I saw him come into the room one night and he looked like a camel. He proceeded to put his eyes in his pocket. I asked this guy who he was and he said, 'That's Mr. Jones.' Then I asked this cat, 'Doesn't he do anything but put his eyes in his pocket?' And he told me, 'He puts his nose on the ground.' It's all there, it's a true story."[7] At a press conference in San Francisco in December 1965, Dylan supplied more information about Mr. Jones: "He's a pinboy. He also wears suspenders."[8]

In March 1986, Dylan told his audience in Japan: "This is a song I wrote a while back in response to people who ask me questions all the time. You just get tired of that every once in a while. You just don't want to answer no more questions. I figure a person’s life speaks for itself, right? So, every once in a while you got to do this kind of thing, you got to put somebody in their place... So this is my response to something that happened over in England. I think it was about '63, '64. [sic] Anyway the song still holds up. Seems to be people around still like that. So I still sing it. It's called 'Ballad Of A Thin Man'."[9]

There has been speculation whether Mr. Jones was based on a specific journalist.[6] In 1975, reporter Jeffrey Jones "outed" himself in a Rolling Stone article, describing how he had attempted to interview Dylan at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. When Dylan and his entourage later chanced on the hapless reporter in the hotel dining room, Dylan shouted mockingly, "Mr. Jones! Gettin' it all down, Mr. Jones?"[10] When Bill Flanagan asked Dylan, in 1990, whether one reporter could claim all the credit for Mr. Jones, Dylan replied: "There were a lot of Mister Joneses at that time. Obviously there must have been a tremendous amount of them for me to write that particular song. It was like, 'Oh man, here's the thousandth Mister Jones'."[11]

In the John Lennon-penned Beatles song "Yer Blues", Lennon describes the character as "suicidal", and that he feels "just like Dylan's Mr. Jones".

#dylan #bob