Blues OR Up the Down Escalator

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

This may not be one of my better poems (!) but one I enjoyed writing; a reader got in touch to say she was 'an emotional wreck'  (I know the feeling!) and asked for a poem to cheer her up. 

I played around with this poem one evening and sent it. Later, the reader said it had encouraged her to stop feeling sorry for herself and ‘go and find Somewhere Town’.

Years ago when I was struggling to recover from a severe nervous breakdown, an artist friend suggested I listen to some Blues. When I expressed scepticism, he simply said, Believe me. nothing is more uplifting than to know despair is universal and you're not alone.' Another friend (a musician) agreed, insisting that 'The sheer emotional intensity of Blues takes you where you where the mind needs must be to start over, way above and beyond where the heart is too scared of losing its safety net to even want to try.' 

That's all very well, I thought, but meaningless...until I spent an hour or so one day listening to some great Blues...

It worked, and I started to get my life back.

"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." 

- Ralph Waldo Emerson 

BLUES or UP THE DOWN ESCALATOR

I had the Blues,
was close to breaking down.
just kept rolling on
towards Nowhere Town,
heading north of the sun,
veering west at the moon;
be sure there’s a Nowhere Town
for everyone

I sang the Blues,
whole world egging me on,
nowhere else to run
but Nowhere Town;
folks laughed and cried,
didn’t take me for a clown;
be sure everyone  sings the Blues
in Nowhere Town

Through the Blues,
I saw a knowing wink declare,
it’s a dead loss here,
so try going somewhere
south of the sun,
a little east at the moon,
where there’s a Somewhere Town
for everyone

Blues, they don't ever let me down;
destination, Somewhere Town…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Ella Sings The Blues

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Someone very special to me once bought me an album of the late, great Ella Fitzgerald called Ella Sings the Blues. She was, of course, a great jazz singer. But, my, couldn't she sing Blues!  Mind you, Ella could sing anything and it would leave a lasting impression on the listener.

My late mother also loved Ella and I remember playing it some years after she died and thinking maybe she was listening to it, too, in that Great Unknown we call death. I didn't feel in the least bit sad. On the contrary, the experience transcended my sadness to an indescribable feeling approaching enlightenment, and my tears confirmed rather than contradicted it. Moreover, I was in the early stages of recovery from a nervous breakdown at the time and like to think Mum was looking out for me as she always did.

Whimsical, yes, of course, but...don’t we all do whimsy sometimes?

Photo: Ella Fitzgerald (taken from the Internet)

ELLA SINGS THE BLUES

How will it be when I’m dead?

Will I hear music playing in my head,

see doves fly by in a clear blue sky,

hear a newborn baby’s very first cry,

and Ella singing?

How will it be when I die?

Will I wing with doves, oh, so high

that I can look down and see

those I’ve loved crying rivers for me,

or rivers run dry?

How will it be when I’m gone?

World keeps turning and life goes on.

so where does that leave me,

courtesy (hopefully) of a spirituality

come clean?

How will it be when I’m dead?

will I still compose poems in my head,

grieve a sorry world lost its way

for listening to what its ‘betters’ say

who haven’t a clue?

I’ll never know until I’m dying

but when I am, be sure I’ll be flying high

among doves with you, listening

out for every newborn baby’s crying,

and Ella singing

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2010

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]